Chapter 13
Charlie
Chopping potatoes always seemed to relax me, at least a little. With each knick of the knife against the cutting board, each piece was nearly the same size. Perfect for bites that would soak up the goodness of the juice once they were added to the stew.
The store had been…a lot. It was brighter than I expected, and nothing like the pantry we had at the boarding house. There were too many options, too many brands, to choose from.
I had chosen the cheaper items, unsure if Alpha Harris wanted to spend more money than he needed to on something. He obviously had money; his house spoke of it despite the lack of décor. But that didn’t mean he wanted to waste money on something that I talked about.
It was probably bad enough that he was feeding me.
The kitchen sink overlooked the back yard and wooden porch. The yard was lined with a few row of trees, far enough apart to see a field beyond it. But, there were no flowers.
I briefly wondered what it’d look like if there was a row of sunflowers and other wild flowers out by the trees. Not enough to block the view, but to bring some sort of color to the yard.
It was green, as though Alpha Harris had automatic sprinklers that kept it nice and neat. I bet he even had someone come out and mow it weekly, because it looked too perfect.
Everything felt too clean, too curated, here. Like the house had been staged for someone else’s life.
The fridge barely held any leftovers. The freezer was sparse—just a few frozen meals. The pantry wasn’t much better. Shelf-stable snacks. Cans. Nothing that suggested someone cooked here, lived here, lingered here.
It was the kind of space that looked lived-in from a distance but fell apart under close inspection. And I couldn’t shake the question pressing against my ribs. Why was I here? I didn’t belong in this kind of quiet. Didn’t match the polished surfaces or the untouched corners.
Alpha Harris’s life felt too smooth, too intentional. And I was anything but that.
I was used to cleanliness and order, but this place took that to an entirely new level. Everything had a place, but it was as though it were ready for a picture perfect scene.
Slipping the potatoes into the crock pot with the au jus and other veggies, I turned back to the meat. It was almost ready to be added, cooked to crispy perfection on the outside.
I made sure to clean up the counters while the pork finished, making sure that there was no trace of crumb or spill left in my wake.
Minutes later, I added the meat to the pot, gave it all a stir, then washed the pan. I made sure not to make more noise than I needed, since being invisible was better than being heard.
Seen but not heard, a rule that all Omegas had to learn at an early age.
Be ready to serve, was another. There were so many, and any same person who didn’t grow up at Lockswells House wouldn’t understand half of them. But for me, and those that lived there, knew better. We learned, or we were dealt with the consequences of not obeying.
And certainly that would happen here, even if Alpha Harris gave me space like he was right now.
The pain would come.
It was only a matter of time before I’d end up stepping over a rule that I didn’t know about and he’d strike me as though it was second nature.
Today’s outing was just another layer of the man. Another way to watch him, to learn what he wanted of me.
I was no closer to figuring that out as I had been yesterday.
I couldn’t figure out if he wanted my body or my mind at this point.
No one wanted my mind, and that scared me more than any act he’d request of my body.
My mind wasn’t my own anyways, my thoughts were all tucked away under a heavy lock and key. I forced myself to keep my thoughts unreadable on the surface, because there was no other way to live the life I had otherwise.
My desires would never matter.
It wouldn’t matter if Alpha Harris wanted to hear them. They’d be brushed aside moments after they were spoken or dealt with.
Clients hated talking, yet that seemed to be all this man wanted. To talk, for me to talk.
And I wasn’t sure that would be possible. I didn’t have words to wrap around my thoughts.
Wiping a lone tear that slid down my cheek, I gave the outside world one last look. I wouldn’t want something that I never had, my desires and comfort were two of those things.
If the man wanted to mess with my mind, he already achieved that.
I’d have to try harder to learn him; I’d have to work harder to read his wants. He wasn’t like Alphas before, and I had no option but to be up to the challenge.
***
I found Alpha Harris in his office, the door left open. He was on the phone, voice low and clipped, fingers moving steadily across the keyboard.
Working.
Not that it mattered to me—his attention was locked on whatever conversation he was having, and I wasn’t part of it. Which gave me a chance to really look closer. The office, like the rest of the house, was pristine. Minimal. No framed photos. No clutter. Just clean lines and quiet surfaces.
The window behind him faced the manicured front yard.
And as I stood there, watching him speak into the phone without once looking up, I wondered if any part of this house had ever been meant to hold someone like me.
My gaze drifted to the desk. There, half-tucked beneath a leather folio, was a notebook.
Plain. Black. Not decorative. The edges were worn, like it’d been opened a hundred times.
I didn’t move toward it. Just watched it.
I had learned to pay attention to what people left visible. It told you what they wanted you to see. Which meant the real story was always somewhere else.
And maybe, just maybe, Vincent Harris was more than the quiet man with perfect posture and a spotless kitchen. Maybe he was someone who didn’t leave fingerprints—only patterns.
Maybe to some, this man was simple and kind, but there was more to him. It made sense on why he was so difficult to read while others had been easy.
Turning, my feet made their way, soundless like always, to a nearby bookshelf. There wasn’t much, just books about budgeting and a few odd history books. A couple of bookmarks stood out just so from one of the books, like Alpha Harris was working his way through reading it.
There was no speck of dust, no book with a broken spine.
Moving to the next shelf, there were books about psychology. Just the Basics looked to be a bit more worn than the others, but otherwise everything was in a neat order.
On the second shelf were books with terms I didn’t understand. Bondage, the Benefits. Submission isn’t given, it’s earned. Dominance and Demisexual.
Alright, then.
Submission I understood. It was serving my master, my Alpha, to the best of my ability. It was to give it my all, and to not expect anything in return. It was exactly what I’ve been trained to do.
But the other titles confused me.
“Which book are you looking at?” I jerked, forgetting for a single second that I wasn’t alone.
What had I been thinking? How could I forget my place? I shouldn’t be looking at these, especially when they didn’t even pertain to me.
Alpha Harris repeated his question at the same time as the sound of his chair sliding backwards reached my ears.
“Just looking, Sir.” A lie, one I hoped he’d let me get away with. Well, technically it was a lie hidden in a truth.
I wasn’t the best liar, but I was able to get away with it a few times before.
“Exactly, Charles. You are looking. So which shelf?”
My heart sank. Not because I was called out, but because I was going to lie. Again.
I pointed to the shelf that contained the physic books. They could be interesting, at least.
“Hmm.” Alpha Harris looked at the shelf closer.
“The way people react always intrigued me. As my profession, it’s important to read others, to know what they expect and how to answer.
” He paused. I could feel his eyes on me, and I did everything I could to not meet his look head on.
My heart beat in my chest too quickly for my liking.
“But I think you know that. How to read other and the room as though it’s second nature. ”
It was my job.
“Those book aren’t even the best ones to learn from.
They’re more for decoration than anything, since I have clients that come here to seek my ability to help them.
It’s amazing how many people don’t know how to manage their money.
” He stepped closer to me. “You’re welcome to read them, if you’d like.
Any of the books in this room, this house, can be read. ”
“Oh, no thank you, Sir.” I had a book to read, which I had started on last night.
The bounded leather felt like it would break against my skin, and I was extremely careful not to tear a single page or corner.
“The offer stands while you stay here, Charles.”
I dipped my head.
“You are free to roam, to go to your room, or whatever. I have a couple of hours’ work that I have to get done. Even though I was clear it was my vacation time.” He huffed, backing away.
I stood there, frozen, unsure on what to do.
“Is there anything you’d like me to do, Sir?” Having something to do was better. It didn’t make me overthink on options. Like at the grocery store when he handed me the basket, when he told me which items to grab. It had the same quiet structure. Not forceful, but clear.
“Go get the book I lent you,” he said, voice calm. “And bring a pillow or blanket. You can keep me company while I finish up some work.”
No room for indecision. And I was grateful for that. The choice had already been made, and my mind settled into the simplicity of it.
I used the bathroom, grabbed a drink, then returned to his office with the book and a pillow tucked under my arm.
He glanced up from his desk, offering a small, encouraging smile. “Sit wherever.”
That was easy.