Chapter 2 - Eden Serviteurs #2
“Yes! I completed my training last week. I was delighted when they told me they found me a home. I was worried it would take much longer, but life was kind to me. I’m grateful!”
William’s vision narrowed. A home.
“It appears to be your first time too, William?” Adathan remarked as he put his hand on the table and once again not-so-subtly slid it toward the manual.
Right. The company name.
“It is,” William admitted as he grabbed the damn thing.
It was heavy, like it had at least a hundred pages.
“Eden Serviteurs” was printed on the cover in sleek letters that reminded William of every single luxury brand logo he could think of.
He leafed through the manual, almost immediately putting it back down as he remembered the mini-bar. “Hey, can you drink?”
“I can do anything you want.”
William had never needed a drink so badly in his life.
Wait. Was Adathan even of legal drinking age? He looked so young—fuck, was he a teenager? “How old are you?”
“I turned eighteen last week.”1
“You look really young.”
Adathan’s smile wavered. “I’m sorry.”
“What? No! Don’t apologize!” William bit the inside of his cheek and changed the subject with the subtlety of a drunk moose. “So, it was your birthday last week, huh? Did you have fun?”
“Fun?”
“Y—never mind, it was a stupid question.” William cursed himself for being such an idiot. If Adathan wasn’t considered a person, surely he didn’t celebrate his birthday.
Screw this. He needed a drink.
William sent Oliver the company name as he headed to the small fridge. He opened it, gratefully finding it filled to the brim with various alcoholic beverages. He took out the business card Martin had given him earlier and sent them a text.
? William: Hey, this is William Mitchell. Is the mini bar included with the room or is it extra?
The reply was instant.
? FIS Poker: Good evening, Mr. Mitchell. The mini-bar and room service are indeed included in your package. You are welcome to use them to your heart’s content.
A wicked smile grew on William’s lips.
? FIS Poker: May I assist you further, Mr. Mitchell?
? William: No
? FIS Poker: Please do not hesitate to reach out to us if you need anything. On behalf of Freedom in Spades Poker, I wish you a wonderful night.
William didn’t bother studying his options. He grabbed five bottles at random, figuring he could dump their contents in the sink and pick something else if they sucked.
All on FIS Poker’s tab.
“What do you say we celebrate?” William suggested as he put the bottles on the table. “You successfully completed your training, right? It’s quite the accomplishment. It can’t go unrewarded.”
Adathan beamed. “Thank you, William. You’re very kind. I already got the best reward, though.”
“Oh?” William uttered as he looked through the kitchenette’s drawers. “What was it?”
“You!”
William let out a nervous chuckle as he headed back to the table, clutching the bottle opener he’d just found. “You barely know me.”
“Then tell me about you,” Adathan said, resting his chin in his palm. He cocked his head and gave William an inviting smile, looking like the textbook definition of active listening.
William frowned as he sat back down. There wasn’t much to say about him—he liked poker, which was obvious, but what else might Adathan want to know?
“What’s your favorite color?” Adathan asked.
“Uh, blue, I think. What’s yours?”
“I like them all, but blue is also my favorite!”
Of course.
William opened all five bottles, placing the caps into a neat pile. He grabbed a craft beer with a beaver wielding wooden nunchucks on the label and gestured at the other bottles. “Pick whichever you like.”
Adathan took the bottle closest to him, which appeared to be some sort of cranberry-flavored cocktail. “What do you like to do to relax?”
William certainly wouldn’t be asking Adathan the same question in return. “Guess I like going to the gym.”
Adathan gasped softly. “You’re an athlete!”
“Nah.” William took a swig of his beer—it was good. Adathan took a swig of his cocktail—no way to tell whether he liked it. “I just want to stay in shape.”
Adathan’s eyes crinkled. “I’m sure you’re impressive. You look very strong.”
William drank some more, needing to wash down the lump of annoyance forming in his throat. Did filthy rich people really enjoy receiving empty praise like that?
Adathan took a drink of his own beverage and set the bottle down without a sound, like it was made of paper instead of glass. “Is there something else you like to do to relax?” he asked.
William tried to answer his question, but he lost his ability to think as the insane reality set in.
How could such an incredible day end this way? After his win, he’d been hoping to relax, perhaps get drunk, and go back home triumphant—ideally with a big pile of cash. Instead, he was stuck in his hotel room trying to make small talk with a slave who believed William was his savior.
Disgust rose in William’s chest as those thoughts crossed his mind—what the hell was wrong with him?
He wasn’t stuck with Adathan; Adathan was stuck with him. Literally.
William owned him.