Chapter Five
Torin
Torin stepped out of the truck and took in the sight of Garett’s house. It seemed to have been plucked from the pages of a catalog—a sprawling ranch house on acres of well-kept land. White fencing stretched as far as the eye could see, enclosing pastures dotted with grazing horses. The lawn was meticulously mowed, bordered by flowerbeds blooming with vibrant colors. Even the gravel driveway was raked clean of leaves or stray stones, as though chaos had been banished from this corner of the world.
The house itself was a picture of rustic elegance, built from warm-toned wood and stone. A wide porch wrapped around the front, complete with rocking chairs and a bench swing that swung in the breeze. Torin could see the edge of a barn in the distance and a few workers attending to chores, their movements efficient and practiced.
“Leave your suitcases here in the hallway,” Garett instructed as he opened the front door.
“Yes, Sir.”
The entryway was just as orderly as the exterior, with polished wooden floors and a rack for boots neatly arranged by color. A woven rug lay perfectly centered beneath a sturdy bench. Torin hesitated for a moment, then set his bags down where Garett had instructed.
“Take off your shoes and put them beside mine. Then hang your jacket on the hook,” Garett said.
“Yes, Sir.” Torin followed his direction, not wanting to get on Garett’s wrong side.
“We’ll take your suitcases to your room later,” Garett said, already moving toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
Torin followed him through the house and into the kitchen. The floor was terracotta tiles, and the cabinets were rich, honey-colored wood. Stainless steel appliances gleamed. He didn’t know if the sunlight made everything shine or if it was cleaned well. A long farmhouse table sat in the center of the room. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack above the island, and the faint scent of a pine cleaning agent lingered in the air. Torin bent over the sink and looked out the window at the view of the backyard and the rolling hills beyond.
Garett opened a cabinet and pulled down two mugs. “Do you drink coffee?” he asked, setting the mugs on the counter.
Torin nodded. “Yeah. With milk and sugar, if you’ve got it.”
“We’ve got it.” Garett poured two cups from the pot on the counter and added a splash of milk and a heaping teaspoon of sugar to Torin’s before preparing his own black. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing to the table.
Torin sat cradling the warm mug in his hands as Garett leaned against the counter, his eyes steady and assessing. “I’m already wishing I didn’t agree to this. I miss New York.”
Garett moved to sit on the other side of the table, facing Torin. “It’s going to take some time to get used to it. But I’ll keep you so busy you won’t have time to think.”
“So, working me to death is your answer?”
“If you behave and follow my orders, you’ll have time for fun. I have no idea what you think is fun.”
“Clubbing and dancing are what I like to do.” Torin didn’t understand why this man was using words like behave and follow his orders. It was too soon to tell if the cowboy would turn into a bully, although he was nothing like Byron. Was that a good thing? He didn’t know yet.
“Do you smoke or drink alcohol?”
“I drink when I go clubbing.” Torin heard country people still smoked while young city people didn’t. He didn’t know if that was true or not.
“Besides dancing, what else do you like to do for fun?”
“My last boyfriend used to take me to dinner a lot. We’d go to the theater, and art exhibits.”
“Are you talking about Bishop Bellucci?” Garett’s question made it seem like he was trying to connect with him on some weird level.
Torin was taken aback at hearing the name Bishop. Only mobsters called him Bishop. He told Torin he was never to call him Bishop, only by his rightful name, Byron. This cowboy claiming to be above mobsters was referring to Byron as Bishop and he works for Dante. “Bishop is reserved for his mobster friends. Are you a mobster?”
“I can assure you, I’m not involved in any criminal activities, nor will you be while you are under my protection.”
“Why did you call him Bishop then?”
“I read his name in your file.”
“You have a file on me?” Torin’s eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat.
“Of course. I’m responsible for you.”
“I loved him, and he fucked me over.”
“I heard. That’s what happens when you mess with mobsters.”
“You work for one.”
“I do, but I don’t commit crimes for him, nor would he ask me to. I manage the guest house for Dante.”
“I hope he doesn’t fuck you over.” Torin didn’t think Garett looked like a mobster, but then he had no idea what this man was involved in.
“So, let’s talk about your job,” Garett began. “The guest house isn’t just a place for people to crash. It’s part of the experience we offer here. Cleanliness, hospitality, and privacy—those are the rules.”
Torin nodded, taking a sip of coffee. It was smooth and rich; he was not expecting this cowboy to have a superior blend.
“You’ll meet the other workers tomorrow,” Garett continued.
Torin met his gaze, sensing the unspoken weight behind the words. “I’ll do my best for you.” He wanted to please Garett in every way.
“Good.” Garett’s tone softened slightly. “I don’t mind giving you some freedom around here, but you’re going to have to earn my trust first. Do you want to hang out with any new friends you meet or go into town? Fine. But prove to me you’re reliable. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
A faint smile flickered across Garett’s face. “All right. Finish your coffee, and I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
“Will I get paid?” Torin asked.
“Of course you will. But that doesn’t mean you need to blow it in one place. Learn to save money.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re lucky tonight.”
“Lucky?”
“I work weekends at Cowpokes.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a gay BDSM club. It’s off the compound and in town. Of course, you’ll be watching me and never leaving my side.”
“Really? I always wanted to check one out.” Torin’s interest peaked.
“I don’t want anyone thinking you’re available and looking for a Dom, so I have a black leather collar for you to wear. It will protect you from others touching you. Just say I’m your Dom.”
“But you’re not yet.” Torin emphasized the word ‘yet’.
“Yet?” Garett laughed. “You don’t know what a Dom or sub is, do you?”
“Not really, but it sounds fun if we get out of the compound.”
“You’re not here a day and you’re looking for a Dom?”
“No, Sir. Just you if you’re a Dom.” The more Torin said, the more he dug a hole for himself. All he wanted was Garett’s approval; the feeling of acceptance was his driving force. He needed him as an ally, someone to stand beside him.
“Drink your coffee. Then I’m going to take you to your room and explain some things.”
“I thought Dante said I have to be with you all the time.”
“You will be with me, but not in my bed.”
“So, you trust me not to leave the house?” Torin shot his playful grin, almost mischievously, as he looked at him.
Garett remained quiet, then said, “I can deal with this in two ways. Lock you in your bedroom or…”
“Dante said I wasn’t a prisoner.” Torin planted his hands on the table, his knuckles white, and glared into the other man’s eyes. Then he wished he hadn’t said a damn word. His anger about leaving New York clouded his thoughts and responses.
“I’ll deal with you the other way, then. You’re going to pull the mattress from your room and carry it to my room. You’ll sleep there until I can trust you in your own room.”
A slow smile stretched across Torin’s face, the kind that spoke of a quiet victory.
Garett stood and picked up his mug, then rinsed it and placed it in the dishwasher. “As you can see, I like my home orderly and clean. You can eat or drink anything you want but clean up after yourself. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” Torin got up and rinsed his mug and put it into the dishwasher the same way Garett had.
“Thank you, Torin. Now let’s bring your suitcases upstairs.”
Torin followed Garett upstairs with his suitcases, then Garett took one from him, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house. He watched as Garett opened the door to his room and gestured towards the bed. Without a word, Torin moved to the bed, gripping the mattress firmly and lifting it with a grunt. Garett grabbed the other end and helped him carry it Garett’s bedroom, his mind racing with thoughts of what this meant.
As he set the mattress down beside the king size bed, Garett turned to him with a serious expression. “Torin, I need you to understand something,” Garett began, his voice calm but firm. “I need to trust you. If you want to do things on your own, show me you can be responsible.”
Torin nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and determination. “I get it, Garett. But it’s difficult. I just want to prove myself.”
Garett placed a hand on Torin’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know you do. And you will. But for now, we need to take these steps to ensure your safety. Trust is earned, and I believe you can earn it.”
Torin looked into Garett’s eyes, seeing the sincerity there. He took a deep breath and nodded again. “Alright. I’ll do my best.”
Garett smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “That’s all I ask, Torin. Let’s get this mattress set up, and then we can talk more about what you can do to build that trust.”
Together, they worked in silence, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air, but a newfound understanding began to form between them.