Chapter Sixteen

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When we arrived at the hotel, I gawked at its glory. It looked like some place out of a movie set in Beverly Hills, at least compared to the hotels we had back home. They weren't anything fancy, never advertised free breakfast, and hardly said if wifi was available. The rooms weren't terrible, just small and filled with slightly sketchy and uncomfortable mattresses. Some rooms made you question if a murder had occurred there, or if drugs were being pushed from said room, but it could be worse, I guess. I was lucky that I had a decent home, either my own, my parents', or Kalob's.

Mallory drove the SUV to the front doors, quickly exiting and handing the keys to the valet manager. I followed suit, leaving my bags as she had, and tried to keep up with her when she walked inside. The lobby was modern with taupes and blacks adorning the furniture and walls. The front desk was even a slick black with beige accents on the desk portion. This only made me wonder what my room would look like; the room, the bed, and oh my lanta the shower. If this lobby was any indication, the shower would be heavenly.

*insert hearts into my eyes because wow*

"Morgan, please" my Mistress spoke to the receptionist. "Mallory. And please inform Governor Morgan of my presence."

God, the boy looked terrified. His face went from casual to strained in the time that it took for him to look up from his computer and gaze upon the dark haired woman in front of him. I felt sorry for him, but then again, he didn't receive punishments from her. He didn't have to deal with the dragon of a woman in the mornings when she hadn't gotten her coffee and hardly rested for six hours the night prior, only to have an equally cranky woman, aka me, in her office all day because nine o' clock was still ridiculously early to be awake.

He typed away furiously on his computer, handed Mallory two key cards, and made sure to include the room number, when complimentary breakfast would be served, and an assured statement that Ted Morgan would receive her message. Mallory rushed past me with the key cards toward the elevator, pushing the button before I could even get on and causing me to shove my arm in between the slowly shutting doors.

Thanks, you're a peach, echoed in my head, but I knew if I said anything remotely smart, though funny as it may be, I'd be practically murdered by the older woman I called Miss.

Sadly, no one got on the elevator behind us. Mallory tapped her foot impatiently. I glanced at my phone and began typing up a quick message to Kalob, assuring him of my arrival and giving him a time at which I'd call him tonight. Mid-text message, my phone was snatched from my hand by my favorite human on the planet. I avoided giving her the 'oh my god how could you?' response in preference for a simple, "why did you take my phone?", laced heavily with annoyance and aggravation.

"Because I can," she stated, shoving the device in her pocket.

Wow. She was definitely acting like my mom had when I was a teenager, except my mom was cool, and she isn't.

"Kay."

"Watch yourself, Miss Holland," Mallory hissed. "Or this will be a long week for you."

It already is.

But that went unsaid.

The elevator opened and I followed Mallory as she, yet again, brushed past me and hurried to our room. She had failed to tell me we were sharing a room until we had gotten to the door. She had also forgotten to mention that we were sharing a bed, unless she expected me to sleep on the crumby-looking loveseat that looked as uncomfortable as a cardboard box. Bubble wrap had to be more comfortable than that piece of furniture.

Mallory immediately ran to the bathroom, leaving me to fall backwards onto the bed like a girl out of a cliché romance movie. I felt like I was being engulfed in warm, fuzzy sheep; the comforter was that soft. My comfort didn't last too long, as the bellboy, who was actually a girl, knocked on the door with our luggage. Grateful, I pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to her before taking both mine and Mallory's bags.

I threw both bags onto the bed, immediately getting into my own to change my shirt. I needed a sweatshirt, something to make me warmer because I was feeling chilly with the constant cold-shoulder Mallory was giving me.

The bathroom door opened when I was in the midst of pulling my tee shirt over my head. My body stiffened, slightly afraid as to what Mal would do. I kept my sweatshirt at my stomach, the fabric twitching ever so slightly in correspondence with my hands.

Cold fingers grazed over the bruises around my back, then trailed up to my shoulder blades. They were so delicate, careful, how you would caress a child's cheek with your knuckles. Gasping dreamily, I tilted my head up slightly, my lip curling upward.

"You bruised."

"It's nothing," I murmured. "Please don't stop touching me like that."

The smooth caresses stopped. "It's not nothing, Esme. You have to communicate with me; I need to know everything that happens with you, especially when I do something to you." Mallory turned me around, facing me with a stern expression lining her every feature. "Do you understand?"

"Yes mom."

"What did you call me?"

Oh. I didn't keep that inside. Oh no.

Pulling the sweatshirt over my head, I turned myself away slightly, enough to distance myself, but not too much to seem disrespectful. "Well," I muttered, scratching the back of my head, "I-um..-"

A loud burst of laughter fell from sinful lips. "I suggest you correct yourself before I force you to call me mommy from now on, since you seem so keen on comparing me to your mother."

"Yes Miss," I responded immediately. I didn't want another mother, I didn't need one, and I certainly wasn't interested in calling Mallory mommy for the rest of my days. That wasn't my choice of title. Her Royal Bitchiness was for sure, but mommy was a no.

"Good." The dark-haired woman mentally fixed her attention back onto my bruises. "Do they cause you any pain? Discomfort?"

I shook my head, seating in the loveseat. "Only when my bra rubs against them, but I bruise easily, so it's no big deal, honestly."

Mallory hummed and started rummaging through her luggage. She pulled out a pair of wedged boots, tights, and an exaggeratedly long shirt. I mean, it could pass a nightgown if you really wanted. The coat she wore was discarded as well as the rest of her clothes, and I found myself just sitting-- gawking at the creature before me. There was something about her, whether it be her smooth skin or toned arms and legs, but I wasn't complaining. Anyone would be lucky to have the ability to witness Mallory Morgan in all her glory, and I'm not talking about her ego.

Ha. I made a joke.

"Are you planning on staring at me while I change," Mallory questioned, only turning her head to look at me. Her lips were curved into a smirk, and that told me she was joking--sometimes you couldn't tell if she was serious or not. "Or are you going to get ready so we can get dinner?"

I nodded my head, a dribble of droll peeking out of the corner of my lips. Wiping it away with the back of my hand, I got back into my bag and pulled out one of the many outfits Mallory had requested that I bring. I walked into the bathroom to change. I needed to be away from her and her naked figure, muscular thighs, pert breasts...

Stop it. Get control of yourself. She's just an intimidatingly attractive woman, nothing too big. Just get ready, and get through dinner. Take it one step at a time.

And that's exactly what I planned on doing.

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