Fic: The Devil You Know (13/25)
Feb. 2nd, 2014 02:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
citrinesunsetTitle: The Devil You Know
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 5160 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
On Saturday morning, he heard Peter and Elizabeth arguing in the kitchen. He stopped by the stairs and listened. They rarely argued, so when they did, it was worth listening in.
"You've used him for work," Elizabeth was saying. "Why can't I?"
"That's different," Peter said with a scoff. "Hughes asked me. What was I supposed to say?"
"Look, Neal is bored and lonely. This thing with Kate affected him a lot more than he's letting on, and it's got to be hard, not having anyone to talk to."
"He has us! We talk to him."
"That's different. It's not like he's going to feel comfortable venting or complaining—"
"Oh, I think Neal is very comfortable complaining."
"My point is, he needs to meet some people on his level."
"You mean criminals."
"I mean other slaves."
"It's the same thing, El. Besides—if you make him do this, he'll just make a fuss. He's going to think it's degrading. The last thing you need tonight is him acting up."
Now Neal's interest was piqued. What could Elizabeth suggest that Peter would find degrading?
"Well, if Neal thinks it's so degrading, I won't take him. I'll let him decide."
"Okay, fine. But he's not going to do it."
Neal chose that point to enter the kitchen. "I'm not going to do what?"
Elizabeth's eyes brightened and she smiled. "Oh, Neal, you're up! Good! I have a favor to ask you. I have an important party tonight, and one of the slaves who was going to be a waiter is sick. How would you like to come along and serve hors d'oeuvres?"
Neal smiled, but he glanced at Peter as he said, "I'm sure I'd be delighted."
Peter narrowed his eyes.
Did Peter think him so proud that the prospect of working as a waiter would keep him from attending a party? True, it wasn't ideal, but it wasn't like Neal had any better opportunities at the moment.
"Hold on a sec," Peter said, "she hasn't told you about the theme. Or the costumes."
"Theme?" Neal asked, turning to Elizabeth.
She kept smiling, but the muscles around her mouth tensed. "The party is a benefit to raise money for an exhibition of ancient Greek pottery. My client wants the servers to dress up as nymphs and satyrs. I know it's a little ridiculous, but I think it's going to be very tasteful."
Neal glanced at Peter, who was barely containing a smirk. Evidently, this was what Peter had meant when he said "degrading."
Were the costumes that bad, or was Peter simply not a fan of Greek mythology?
Elizabeth walked over toward the back door and picked up a large shopping bag. "Here," she said. "I brought home a costume to see how it fits."
She pulled out a mass of cloth that was covered in synthetic brown fur. At first, it looked like an oversized version of the fake animal pelt that Satchmo played with, but when Elizabeth held it up, Neal saw that it was, in fact, a pair of pants. The thighs were wider and padded, as though to mimic the appearance of goat legs. She handed them to Neal.
"Go on—take off your pants and try those on."
Evidently, she meant for him to do it right there, in the middle of the kitchen. Slowly, Neal slipped out of his jeans and pulled on the strange goat pants. They were heavy and thick, and the inside material was a little rough against his skin. He was tempted to ask if they were new or if they'd been worn before, but decided he didn't want to know the answer. They were very low-cut; the sides hugged the lines of his hip bones, the back barely concealed his ass, and the front dipped even lower.
Elizabeth pulled a pair of shoes out of the bag. The fronts were decorated to look like hooves. She set them on the floor and stood back, appraising Neal with a critical look in her eye.
"Not a bad fit...." She walked over and tugged at the waist of Neal's boxers, which protruded from the top of the pants. "This won't do. You'll need to wear something lower-cut. Didn't we get you some thongs?"
They had, and they were still buried in the bottom of the dresser drawer, never worn. Neal had never intended to wear them.
"Yeah...." he said, quietly.
"Then wear one tonight."
"Does this costume have a shirt?" he asked.
"No, just the pants and the shoes. Oh! And there are horns and a tail." She returned to the bag and pulled out the aforementioned items.
"Horns," Neal said.
"Satyrs are part goat or something," Peter said, looking pleased with himself.
"Yeah, thanks. I know my Greek mythology."
He was beginning to understand why Peter thought he wouldn't like this. Still, now that he'd agreed to help, he wasn't going to prove Peter right. Besides, Elizabeth would be impressed if he did this.
Next, he tried on the shoes. Satisfied that everything fit okay, Elizabeth then gave him permission to change back into his own clothes.
"The party starts at eight," she said, "and we'll need to be there by six so Naomi can do your makeup."
There was makeup, too? He didn't even bother asking about that, or about who Naomi was.
Putting on his best smile, he said, "Sounds great!"
* * *
Elizabeth left for the venue much earlier, and came home at five to change into a black cocktail dress and take Neal back with her.
During the drive over, she told him, "Honestly, this is a huge help. The situation with the servers is a mess. The caterer wouldn't go along with the costume idea, and my client didn't want to 'waste' more money on servers, so she insisted on using her friends' slaves. And we need to have three men and three women because she wants an equal number of nymphs and satyrs. I don't know if any of the slaves have served at a party this big before. But at least I know I can rely on you." She looked over at him and smiled.
When they got there, the catering crew was bustling around and someone was testing the sound system. Neal carried the bag containing his costume, and Elizabeth held his leash.
A short woman with white hair walked over to them as they entered. She was wearing a beaded red dress and was followed closely by a younger woman in a slave collar. The slave was wearing a suit. She had light brown hair that was pulled back in a bun, and she kept reaching up to tuck a few loose, frizzy strands behind her ears.
Elizabeth put a hand on Neal's shoulder. To the older woman, she said, "Mimi, this is my slave, Neal. Neal, this is my client, Ms. Gallagher."
Neal bowed his head like he knew he was supposed to. "Ma'am."
Mimi Gallagher clasped her hands in front of her. "Oh, wonderful timing." She turned to her slave and said, "Naomi, why don't you take him back?"
Elizabeth unhooked Neal's leash and folded it up in her purse.
With a look at Neal over her shoulder, Naomi started in the direction of a door on the other side of the room. Neal caught up and walked beside her.
"Naomi, right?" he asked with a smile. "You're doing makeup?"
They reached the door and she paused with her hand on the handle.
"That's right. Among other things. Come on—I'll introduce you to the others."
She opened the door and led Neal into some sort of storeroom that had been converted into a makeshift dressing room.
There were five other slaves inside already, three women and two men.
"Everyone," Naomi said, "this is Neal, with the event planner. Neal, this is Alyssa, Stephen, Liam, Rachel, and Susan."
"Hey," Neal said with a smile.
The others returned the greeting with more curiosity than enthusiasm. Stephen and Alyssa looked him up and down before returning to their previous conversation. Everyone was still dressed in their street clothes. Neal took a seat on a folding metal chair and took everything in.
Liam was the youngest. Neal guessed he couldn't have been older than twenty-one. He stood off by himself, and would occasionally reach back and rub his ass, probably subconsciously. Rachel and Susan were off by themselves, and after a few minutes of overheard conversation, he got the impression that they were both owned by the same family on the Upper East Side. Rachel, apparently, was the nanny. The family must have been infinitely more trusting than Peter was.
Stephen and Alyssa were sitting at a folding table, talking.
"I wouldn't believe him," Stephen was telling her.
"No, he really wants me to stick around when I'm freed." She brushed her long dark hair back from her face.
"Maybe he thinks he can get you to stay. Doesn't mean he's genuine."
"No, he's the real narcissistic savior type. He thinks he's 'saved' me. I've already convinced him to give me some money. Anyway, what's it matter? It's not like I'd really stay."
"I'm just saying...."
Alyssa reached out and ran a finger down Stephen's arm. "Aw, you're worried," she said with a grin. "I know what I'm doing."
Naomi was standing by the door, playing a game on a surprisingly nice cellphone. Looking up, she said, "Guys, it's almost six. I should get started on your makeup so you can get dressed."
"How come you don't have to wear one of those stupid costumes?" Alyssa asked.
"Because I made myself useful," Naomi snapped.
Naomi walked over to a large bag in the corner and started to pull out makeup and cotton balls. Stephen turned to Neal.
"So, you belong to the event planner?" he asked. "You done this before?"
"You could say that." He'd been to plenty of parties, and he'd posed as a butler or waiter a couple times, but the others didn't need to know how much experience he had.
"Hm," Stephen said. "My mistress throws a lot of parties. I've never done anything like this, though."
Naomi did the women's makeup first. As soon as she had finished Alyssa's, Alyssa picked up a hand-held mirror that was on the table and looked at herself.
When Naomi got to Neal, she brushed his hair out of his face with a gentle touch. She spread some glittery makeup on his cheeks, and then applied eyeshadow.
"You're good at this," he said.
Smiling, she said, "Thank you. My mistress has me do her makeup all the time."
When she finished, she rubbed some hair gel on her palms and slicked back Neal's hair. Her hands lingered a moment longer than they needed to, and Neal grinned at her. She wiped the gel off her hands and put the horns in Neal's hair. As she leaned over him, Neal caught the scent of sandalwood.
When everyone's hair makeup was done, they changed into their costumes. There was no privacy, but the only one who looked uncomfortable about that was Liam. Neal followed the others' lead.
There was no full-length mirror in the room, but looking at Stephen and Liam, Neal got a pretty good idea of how he must look. The costumes didn't look half bad. They weren't realistic, exactly, but they looked better when they were put together. The women had gauzy, toga-like dresses with short skirts.
"This is stupid," Liam muttered. "I can't believe my master is making me do this."
"What are you talking about?" Stephen said. "Parties are great. How long have you been at this, anyway?"
"What?" Liam asked. "Slavery? A couple months."
"Be glad for the change of pace," Stephen said. "I am."
Naomi huffed. "You haven't had to help with this thing for the past month."
"You're the one who decided to make yourself useful," Alyssa said.
Neal sensed that commiserating would help him fit in. "I never realized how much work went into these things," he said. "At least this time, I didn't have to correct mistakes on four-hundred menus."
"Tell me about it," Naomi said. "Mimi is always hosting these things, and I get all the tedious work. Still, I can't complain. At least I'm trusted." She looked at Alyssa.
The conversation lulled for a minute, and Neal wished he'd been allowed to wear his watch. He didn't know how long they would have to wait, and with his tail attached, sitting down was impossible.
Rachel, who had only talked to Susan since Neal arrived, looked at Stephen and said, "I heard about your owners. It must be stressful."
Stephen shrugged. "Not really. It's about time they broke up. Actually...." He looked around the room with mock hesitation. "I may have had something to do with it."
Alyssa smiled. "I thought you might."
Again, Stephen hesitated, but Neal could tell it was just for show. He was dying to tell everyone.
"Yeah," he said. "See, Donna and Roger haven't had sex in over six months, and—"
"You shouldn't talk about your owners like that," Naomi said. "What if your mistress found out?"
"Then I guess someone in this room would be a snitch, huh? Anyway, Donna didn't know he was making me suck him off every time she left the damn apartment for more than five minutes. I knew she wouldn't approve, but what was I going to do? Even if I could prove it, that's no guarantee she'd do anything. But Roger's also been having an affair with some woman from work. A couple weeks ago, he brought her home and afterward, he told me that his girlfriend hadn't been able to find her bra, and if I found it, I had to give it to him right away. I was changing the sheets, and sure enough, the bra was under the bed. So I washed it and stuck it in the drawer with Donna's things. When Donna found it, I just told her the truth—it'd been on the floor in the bedroom. They got in a big fight and sent me out for a while, and when I came home, he was packing his bags. It's an improvement, I'll tell you that."
Neal recalled what he'd overheard Elizabeth say about wanting him to have a chance to complain. He wondered if she had any idea what type of conversations actually went on.
He knew Elizabeth had brought him here tonight for one reason: so he could meet other slaves. Maybe part of her hoped it would help him understand his place better. But he sensed that, with the possible exception of Liam, these slaves all had owners who were much more trusting and easier to manipulate than Peter and Elizabeth were. And with the exception of Naomi, none of them seemed very respectful toward their owners. They were rich people's pets and servants—what Neal had hoped to be when he realized slavery was inevitable.
Stephen continued to brag about his problem-solving until, finally, the door opened and Elizabeth came in. She quickly looked them over.
"Oh, you look great." She smiled at Naomi. "You did a wonderful job." Addressing the group, she said, "It's almost time to start, so I need you all out on the floor. You're going to walk around and offer the guests hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The caterer will explain everything to you." With a smile, she added, "If you all work hard, we'll let you guys eat the leftovers."
The others began to file out of the room. Elizabeth put a hand on Neal's arm, stopping him.
When they were alone, she said, "Everything going okay?"
"Great. Can't complain."
"Good. I hope you had a chance to chat with everyone." She looked at her watch. "Go on and join the others. I have to check on the band."
Neal followed the others to the kitchen, where a man from the caterer explained the job to them. It was simple enough: walk around the room with a tray and serve people, and collect champagne glasses when the guests were done.
Guests began to arrive, and the ballroom slowly filled with people. Neal and the other slaves circulated around the room, carrying trays.
For all the fuss about costumes and makeup, only a few guests gave Neal more than a passing glance. The ones who did were mostly women, whose eyes lingered on his bare chest as he walked by.
Soft music played above the din of conversation. Neal carried a tray of champagne glasses. It was soon empty, and he started to make his way back toward the kitchen.
The other slaves were following their orders with varying degrees of success. Rachel and Susan were focused on their work, but Stephen was sticking to the less-populated parts of the room. Alyssa was chatting with a couple guests. He caught sight of Liam just in time to see him stick some bruschetta in his mouth.
Neal thought it best to stay on track. He was, after all, doing this to impress Elizabeth and prove Peter wrong.
In front of him, a young woman in a pink dress was making her way through the crowd. Neal heard something fall and, looking down, saw a bracelet on the floor where she had just walked. No one else had noticed. Neal crouched down and quickly picked it up.
He stepped over by the wall. He set his empty tray on a table and examined his find. It was a sapphire and diamond tennis bracelet. His perfunctory study told him that the gems were high-quality. The bracelet would be worth several thousand, at least.
His chest pounded as he thought about how easy it would be to take it. The girl hadn't noticed it missing yet. No one, as far as he could tell, had seen him pick it up. Even these ridiculous pants had small side pockets that he could stash it in. It was ridiculously easy. He now saw why Peter didn't like the thought of him spending time around Elizabeth's clients.
Neal preferred to play the roles of men who were at home in high society. Men like Steve Tabernackle and Nick Halden. But Neal had also pulled some cons by pretending to be a waiter. It was perfect—so many people overlooked the servers, and events like these were chances for the rich to let their guard down and display their wealth. Surprisingly few people remembered that slaves were criminals.
Yet, if he was caught, it would mean time added to his sentence. It might even be enough for Peter to send him away and doom him to being government property. A small theft of opportunity didn't seem worth all that. And then he looked at the young woman, his potential mark. She was young, early twenties, maybe, and he doubted she was old enough to afford the bracelet on her own. He made his way over to where she was standing with a glass of water, and held out the bracelet.
"Excuse me," he said, "is this yours?"
Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, it is! Thank you so much! That clasp is getting loose."
"You'll have to watch that," Neal said. "It's very beautiful. It'd be a shame to lose it. May I?"
She nodded and held out her wrist. Neal put the bracelet around it and made sure the clasp was secure.
"There," he said with a smile.
The girl beamed at him. There was a barely-noticeable flush to her cheeks. She looked like she was going to say something, but then someone called out "Cecilia!" and she whipped around and hurried off in the direction of the voice.
"Why'd you give that back?"
Neal looked over his shoulder and saw Liam. His tray was empty, and Neal wondered how much of the bruschetta had ended up in his stomach.
"You could've taken it," Liam continued. "Bet it was worth a ton."
"Wasn't worth the trouble," Neal said.
Liam snorted. "Yeah, right. It was more trouble giving it back."
Neal narrowed his eyes. "What'd they get you for, anyway?"
"Stole some cars," Liam said, grinning. "Never met a car I couldn't break into."
"I can see it's working out great for you so far."
His smile faded. "Whatever. You got caught, too."
Someone grabbed Neal's shoulders. Neal turned his head and saw Elizabeth behind him.
"Enough conversation. People need champagne." She pointed at Liam. "And you—there are more appetizers in the kitchen."
Neal turned toward the kitchen, but Elizabeth stopped him.
"Oh, and if you see Stephen and Alyssa, let them know they're needed on the floor, okay? I haven't seen them in a while."
Neal went into the kitchen, followed closely by Liam. The catering crew was still at work, but everything was comparatively quiet compared to the other room. The sound of the party was muted. There was no sign of Stephen or Alyssa. Neal reloaded his tray with champagne and ventured back out into the din.
Soon, he'd given out half his glasses. He made his way around the perimeter of the room. When he was near the door to the storage room where he'd gotten changed, he heard a woman laugh. For a moment, he questioned whether the sound was coming from inside the room or from the crowd in front of him. No, it was definitely coming from inside the room.
There was a table nearby. He set down his tray and slowly opened the storage room door an inch. The room was dark, but he was able to see two familiar figures inside.
Alyssa had her arms wrapped around Stephen's waist. He was kissing her neck and had one hand up her skirt. She moaned and pressed her head against his shoulder.
Neal shut the door as quietly as he could. He looked around to make sure that he hadn't been seen, but, as usual, it was like he was invisible to the partiers. He picked up his tray and began to circulate in the crowd again.
He ran into Elizabeth again a minute later.
"I still haven't seen Stephen and Alyssa," she said. "They weren't in the kitchen?"
"Oh, right," Neal said, feigning a realization. "I think Alyssa went to the restroom. And I'm pretty sure Stephen went outside to have a cigarette."
Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. "Unbelievable!" She threw up her hands and stormed off.
Stephen might get in some trouble for smoking...but not as much as he would for screwing around with another slave, probably.
Alyssa emerged from the storage room first. A few minutes later, Stephen came out. Alyssa gave him a smile from across the room, but otherwise, they didn't acknowledge each other. Stephen looked at Neal, but didn't say anything.
The rest of the night was dull but mercifully quick.
As the crowd began to thin out, there was less and less to do. Even Elizabeth seemed to slow down and catch her breath.
Neal was trying to look busy when he noticed the girl whose bracelet he'd found, Cecilia, eyeing him from a few feet away. He flashed a smile and she took it as an invitation, coming over to him.
"I wanted to thank you again for earlier," she said.
"It was my pleasure. It's been a while since I've seen sapphires with such gorgeous transparency."
She leaned against the wall. She held her evening bag in front of her and fiddled with the clasp. "You've seen a lot of gemstones?"
"You could say it's a hobby."
"Would it be really rude if I asked what happened?"
He blinked and touched his collar. "You mean this?"
She nodded and then looked away. "I'm sorry. I'm being rude...."
"No, no. I don't mind talking about it. I was falsely accused of bond forgery."
"Oh, wow."
"Yeah. I'm keeping a good attitude about it, though."
Elizabeth, who had been talking to her client on the other side the room, walked over.
"Neal," she said, "you're needed in the kitchen. Come on."
Neal gave Cecilia an apologetic shrug and followed Elizabeth. Once they were out of earshot, Elizabeth lowered her voice and said, "No flirting with the guests."
"She started it. And I wasn't even flirting. I'm being friendly."
"You were enjoying the attention. Now go." She gave him a gentle pat on the ass to propel him forward.
Neal walked off in a huff. He wasn't even that interested in the girl, really. Not like that. She was a couple years too young for him. But it was nice to get some attention from someone other than Peter or Elizabeth for a change. And there was no harm indulging her interest.
A half hour later, most of the guests were gone. Neal and the other slaves changed back into their street clothes. Elizabeth had the caterer leave a few plates of leftover appetizers in the kitchen. Neal hadn't eaten in hours, and now that the party was over, he realized how hungry he was. The others must have felt the same way.
When they gathered in the kitchen, Neal chose to listen more than talk. He wanted to hear about the other slaves' lives, but he didn't want to share too much about his.
Liam was complaining that he had to share a bed with another slave.
"You're lucky," Stephen said. "I just get a mat on the floor. After four years, you'd think I'd get more recognition."
Neal got the sense that Rachel and Susan were too shrewd to complain so openly, but they seemed weary of the work they would need to do when guests came for Christmas.
"My consolation," Naomi said, "is that if I was free and doing the work I do, I'd probably make shit. At least this way, I have a generous mistress."
Alyssa shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fortunate, really. My master's gone all the time, so I have the apartment to myself a lot."
Gradually, the others were collected by their owners, until it was just Neal, Naomi, and Stephen who were left.
Stephen's mistress, Donna, was monopolizing Elizabeth and Mimi outside the kitchen, and Neal could make out Elizabeth saying things like, "In your own bedroom?" and "You're better off without him."
Naomi excused herself to use the restroom. As they finished off a plate of stuffed crab shells, Stephen leaned in closer to Neal and lowered his voice.
"Look, I know you saw me with Alyssa earlier."
"It's none of my business. I didn't say anything."
"Thanks. Listen, if Alyssa's master knew, it could ruin things for her. He's in love with her, and she's been running a con on him for a year now."
"No, I understand. It's good you're looking out for her."
"I owe you one. Hey, my mistress doesn't like to micromanage me, so I get out of the apartment a lot. Sometimes I do favors for people. I've delivered letters for Alyssa sometimes. If you ever want something, you can give me a call. We'll work something out."
Neal raised his eyebrows. "Just call?"
"I'm the only one who answers the landline."
He picked up a pen and notepad that was on the counter and scribbled down a phone number. He tore off the sheet, folded it up into a small square, and handed it to Neal.
Neal silently stashed it in his pocket.
Within an hour, Neal and Elizabeth were on their way home. After the music and the pervasive din of conversation, the drive was peacefully quiet. Elizabeth didn't even turn the radio on.
They were on the Brooklyn Bridge when she said, "You did a good job. I knew you'd make a natural server."
"I worked as a waiter for a while when I was sixteen."
He didn't mention the cons he'd run. The last thing he needed was to give them another reason to think he couldn't be trusted with a job like this.
"Well, you're very good at it. And I think it was good for you to get out of the house for a while. I'll have to use you the next time I need help."
"I'd be glad to help." Thinking of something, he said, "Don't servers usually wear uniforms?"
Elizabeth smiled. "You're right, they do. We'd have to pick you up some dress shoes, and maybe a white shirt." She glanced at him. "Don't look so excited. We can't get you anything too fancy. It all needs to be tax deductible."
Neal barely paid attention to her warning. All he cared about was the prospect of getting new clothes. And, better yet, shoes.
"So, did you like meeting other slaves?"
He could tell she was trying to hide her interest, but it was obvious nonetheless.
"Sure," he said, making sure to keep his tone nonchalant.
He wondered what she expected. Did she want him to make friends? Learn how to be a good slave? Learn his place?
"Mimi was telling me that she's looking for a boyfriend for Naomi. She thought you might be a good candidate." She chuckled, but gave Neal a curious glance.
Neal raised his eyebrows. "She wants me to date her slave? What did you tell her?"
"I said I didn't think we'd be interested. But if you are, you know, I could talk to Peter. We could consider it."
"No," Neal said quickly. "I'd rather not have an arranged relationship. Thanks. How would that even work? You'd set up dates? Pick me up when they're over?"
"It's not uncommon, actually. Some owners do it so their slaves don't get lonely."
Neal didn't know what to think. Slave romances were not something he'd ever considered before, and tonight he'd gotten insight into two different ways of going about it.
"Do you want me to date another slave?"
"Honestly? No. But if it would make you happy...."
If it would make him forget about Kate, that was. Now he understood what this was about.
"No," he said. "It wouldn't. Besides, I don't think Naomi and I had much chemistry."
Elizabeth looked relieved, but didn't say anything more on the issue.
When they got home, Peter was still up. He was reading a case file in front of the TV.
"Hey, Hon," he said as they came in the door. "How'd it go?"
"Wonderful," Elizabeth said. "And Neal made us proud."
"Good to hear."
"In fact," Elizabeth said, looking at Neal, "I think Neal deserves to draw a reward out of the jar."
Neal felt like sighing. He knew they were trying to manipulate him into good behavior, but did they have to be so patronizing about it? But he just played along, smiling as he followed Elizabeth into the kitchen.
He remembered how he'd positioned the reward cards, and decided to pull out "A new book." He'd already looked at all of Elizabeth's art books, and he needed some new entertainment.
Chapter 14
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 5160 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
On Saturday morning, he heard Peter and Elizabeth arguing in the kitchen. He stopped by the stairs and listened. They rarely argued, so when they did, it was worth listening in.
"You've used him for work," Elizabeth was saying. "Why can't I?"
"That's different," Peter said with a scoff. "Hughes asked me. What was I supposed to say?"
"Look, Neal is bored and lonely. This thing with Kate affected him a lot more than he's letting on, and it's got to be hard, not having anyone to talk to."
"He has us! We talk to him."
"That's different. It's not like he's going to feel comfortable venting or complaining—"
"Oh, I think Neal is very comfortable complaining."
"My point is, he needs to meet some people on his level."
"You mean criminals."
"I mean other slaves."
"It's the same thing, El. Besides—if you make him do this, he'll just make a fuss. He's going to think it's degrading. The last thing you need tonight is him acting up."
Now Neal's interest was piqued. What could Elizabeth suggest that Peter would find degrading?
"Well, if Neal thinks it's so degrading, I won't take him. I'll let him decide."
"Okay, fine. But he's not going to do it."
Neal chose that point to enter the kitchen. "I'm not going to do what?"
Elizabeth's eyes brightened and she smiled. "Oh, Neal, you're up! Good! I have a favor to ask you. I have an important party tonight, and one of the slaves who was going to be a waiter is sick. How would you like to come along and serve hors d'oeuvres?"
Neal smiled, but he glanced at Peter as he said, "I'm sure I'd be delighted."
Peter narrowed his eyes.
Did Peter think him so proud that the prospect of working as a waiter would keep him from attending a party? True, it wasn't ideal, but it wasn't like Neal had any better opportunities at the moment.
"Hold on a sec," Peter said, "she hasn't told you about the theme. Or the costumes."
"Theme?" Neal asked, turning to Elizabeth.
She kept smiling, but the muscles around her mouth tensed. "The party is a benefit to raise money for an exhibition of ancient Greek pottery. My client wants the servers to dress up as nymphs and satyrs. I know it's a little ridiculous, but I think it's going to be very tasteful."
Neal glanced at Peter, who was barely containing a smirk. Evidently, this was what Peter had meant when he said "degrading."
Were the costumes that bad, or was Peter simply not a fan of Greek mythology?
Elizabeth walked over toward the back door and picked up a large shopping bag. "Here," she said. "I brought home a costume to see how it fits."
She pulled out a mass of cloth that was covered in synthetic brown fur. At first, it looked like an oversized version of the fake animal pelt that Satchmo played with, but when Elizabeth held it up, Neal saw that it was, in fact, a pair of pants. The thighs were wider and padded, as though to mimic the appearance of goat legs. She handed them to Neal.
"Go on—take off your pants and try those on."
Evidently, she meant for him to do it right there, in the middle of the kitchen. Slowly, Neal slipped out of his jeans and pulled on the strange goat pants. They were heavy and thick, and the inside material was a little rough against his skin. He was tempted to ask if they were new or if they'd been worn before, but decided he didn't want to know the answer. They were very low-cut; the sides hugged the lines of his hip bones, the back barely concealed his ass, and the front dipped even lower.
Elizabeth pulled a pair of shoes out of the bag. The fronts were decorated to look like hooves. She set them on the floor and stood back, appraising Neal with a critical look in her eye.
"Not a bad fit...." She walked over and tugged at the waist of Neal's boxers, which protruded from the top of the pants. "This won't do. You'll need to wear something lower-cut. Didn't we get you some thongs?"
They had, and they were still buried in the bottom of the dresser drawer, never worn. Neal had never intended to wear them.
"Yeah...." he said, quietly.
"Then wear one tonight."
"Does this costume have a shirt?" he asked.
"No, just the pants and the shoes. Oh! And there are horns and a tail." She returned to the bag and pulled out the aforementioned items.
"Horns," Neal said.
"Satyrs are part goat or something," Peter said, looking pleased with himself.
"Yeah, thanks. I know my Greek mythology."
He was beginning to understand why Peter thought he wouldn't like this. Still, now that he'd agreed to help, he wasn't going to prove Peter right. Besides, Elizabeth would be impressed if he did this.
Next, he tried on the shoes. Satisfied that everything fit okay, Elizabeth then gave him permission to change back into his own clothes.
"The party starts at eight," she said, "and we'll need to be there by six so Naomi can do your makeup."
There was makeup, too? He didn't even bother asking about that, or about who Naomi was.
Putting on his best smile, he said, "Sounds great!"
Elizabeth left for the venue much earlier, and came home at five to change into a black cocktail dress and take Neal back with her.
During the drive over, she told him, "Honestly, this is a huge help. The situation with the servers is a mess. The caterer wouldn't go along with the costume idea, and my client didn't want to 'waste' more money on servers, so she insisted on using her friends' slaves. And we need to have three men and three women because she wants an equal number of nymphs and satyrs. I don't know if any of the slaves have served at a party this big before. But at least I know I can rely on you." She looked over at him and smiled.
When they got there, the catering crew was bustling around and someone was testing the sound system. Neal carried the bag containing his costume, and Elizabeth held his leash.
A short woman with white hair walked over to them as they entered. She was wearing a beaded red dress and was followed closely by a younger woman in a slave collar. The slave was wearing a suit. She had light brown hair that was pulled back in a bun, and she kept reaching up to tuck a few loose, frizzy strands behind her ears.
Elizabeth put a hand on Neal's shoulder. To the older woman, she said, "Mimi, this is my slave, Neal. Neal, this is my client, Ms. Gallagher."
Neal bowed his head like he knew he was supposed to. "Ma'am."
Mimi Gallagher clasped her hands in front of her. "Oh, wonderful timing." She turned to her slave and said, "Naomi, why don't you take him back?"
Elizabeth unhooked Neal's leash and folded it up in her purse.
With a look at Neal over her shoulder, Naomi started in the direction of a door on the other side of the room. Neal caught up and walked beside her.
"Naomi, right?" he asked with a smile. "You're doing makeup?"
They reached the door and she paused with her hand on the handle.
"That's right. Among other things. Come on—I'll introduce you to the others."
She opened the door and led Neal into some sort of storeroom that had been converted into a makeshift dressing room.
There were five other slaves inside already, three women and two men.
"Everyone," Naomi said, "this is Neal, with the event planner. Neal, this is Alyssa, Stephen, Liam, Rachel, and Susan."
"Hey," Neal said with a smile.
The others returned the greeting with more curiosity than enthusiasm. Stephen and Alyssa looked him up and down before returning to their previous conversation. Everyone was still dressed in their street clothes. Neal took a seat on a folding metal chair and took everything in.
Liam was the youngest. Neal guessed he couldn't have been older than twenty-one. He stood off by himself, and would occasionally reach back and rub his ass, probably subconsciously. Rachel and Susan were off by themselves, and after a few minutes of overheard conversation, he got the impression that they were both owned by the same family on the Upper East Side. Rachel, apparently, was the nanny. The family must have been infinitely more trusting than Peter was.
Stephen and Alyssa were sitting at a folding table, talking.
"I wouldn't believe him," Stephen was telling her.
"No, he really wants me to stick around when I'm freed." She brushed her long dark hair back from her face.
"Maybe he thinks he can get you to stay. Doesn't mean he's genuine."
"No, he's the real narcissistic savior type. He thinks he's 'saved' me. I've already convinced him to give me some money. Anyway, what's it matter? It's not like I'd really stay."
"I'm just saying...."
Alyssa reached out and ran a finger down Stephen's arm. "Aw, you're worried," she said with a grin. "I know what I'm doing."
Naomi was standing by the door, playing a game on a surprisingly nice cellphone. Looking up, she said, "Guys, it's almost six. I should get started on your makeup so you can get dressed."
"How come you don't have to wear one of those stupid costumes?" Alyssa asked.
"Because I made myself useful," Naomi snapped.
Naomi walked over to a large bag in the corner and started to pull out makeup and cotton balls. Stephen turned to Neal.
"So, you belong to the event planner?" he asked. "You done this before?"
"You could say that." He'd been to plenty of parties, and he'd posed as a butler or waiter a couple times, but the others didn't need to know how much experience he had.
"Hm," Stephen said. "My mistress throws a lot of parties. I've never done anything like this, though."
Naomi did the women's makeup first. As soon as she had finished Alyssa's, Alyssa picked up a hand-held mirror that was on the table and looked at herself.
When Naomi got to Neal, she brushed his hair out of his face with a gentle touch. She spread some glittery makeup on his cheeks, and then applied eyeshadow.
"You're good at this," he said.
Smiling, she said, "Thank you. My mistress has me do her makeup all the time."
When she finished, she rubbed some hair gel on her palms and slicked back Neal's hair. Her hands lingered a moment longer than they needed to, and Neal grinned at her. She wiped the gel off her hands and put the horns in Neal's hair. As she leaned over him, Neal caught the scent of sandalwood.
When everyone's hair makeup was done, they changed into their costumes. There was no privacy, but the only one who looked uncomfortable about that was Liam. Neal followed the others' lead.
There was no full-length mirror in the room, but looking at Stephen and Liam, Neal got a pretty good idea of how he must look. The costumes didn't look half bad. They weren't realistic, exactly, but they looked better when they were put together. The women had gauzy, toga-like dresses with short skirts.
"This is stupid," Liam muttered. "I can't believe my master is making me do this."
"What are you talking about?" Stephen said. "Parties are great. How long have you been at this, anyway?"
"What?" Liam asked. "Slavery? A couple months."
"Be glad for the change of pace," Stephen said. "I am."
Naomi huffed. "You haven't had to help with this thing for the past month."
"You're the one who decided to make yourself useful," Alyssa said.
Neal sensed that commiserating would help him fit in. "I never realized how much work went into these things," he said. "At least this time, I didn't have to correct mistakes on four-hundred menus."
"Tell me about it," Naomi said. "Mimi is always hosting these things, and I get all the tedious work. Still, I can't complain. At least I'm trusted." She looked at Alyssa.
The conversation lulled for a minute, and Neal wished he'd been allowed to wear his watch. He didn't know how long they would have to wait, and with his tail attached, sitting down was impossible.
Rachel, who had only talked to Susan since Neal arrived, looked at Stephen and said, "I heard about your owners. It must be stressful."
Stephen shrugged. "Not really. It's about time they broke up. Actually...." He looked around the room with mock hesitation. "I may have had something to do with it."
Alyssa smiled. "I thought you might."
Again, Stephen hesitated, but Neal could tell it was just for show. He was dying to tell everyone.
"Yeah," he said. "See, Donna and Roger haven't had sex in over six months, and—"
"You shouldn't talk about your owners like that," Naomi said. "What if your mistress found out?"
"Then I guess someone in this room would be a snitch, huh? Anyway, Donna didn't know he was making me suck him off every time she left the damn apartment for more than five minutes. I knew she wouldn't approve, but what was I going to do? Even if I could prove it, that's no guarantee she'd do anything. But Roger's also been having an affair with some woman from work. A couple weeks ago, he brought her home and afterward, he told me that his girlfriend hadn't been able to find her bra, and if I found it, I had to give it to him right away. I was changing the sheets, and sure enough, the bra was under the bed. So I washed it and stuck it in the drawer with Donna's things. When Donna found it, I just told her the truth—it'd been on the floor in the bedroom. They got in a big fight and sent me out for a while, and when I came home, he was packing his bags. It's an improvement, I'll tell you that."
Neal recalled what he'd overheard Elizabeth say about wanting him to have a chance to complain. He wondered if she had any idea what type of conversations actually went on.
He knew Elizabeth had brought him here tonight for one reason: so he could meet other slaves. Maybe part of her hoped it would help him understand his place better. But he sensed that, with the possible exception of Liam, these slaves all had owners who were much more trusting and easier to manipulate than Peter and Elizabeth were. And with the exception of Naomi, none of them seemed very respectful toward their owners. They were rich people's pets and servants—what Neal had hoped to be when he realized slavery was inevitable.
Stephen continued to brag about his problem-solving until, finally, the door opened and Elizabeth came in. She quickly looked them over.
"Oh, you look great." She smiled at Naomi. "You did a wonderful job." Addressing the group, she said, "It's almost time to start, so I need you all out on the floor. You're going to walk around and offer the guests hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The caterer will explain everything to you." With a smile, she added, "If you all work hard, we'll let you guys eat the leftovers."
The others began to file out of the room. Elizabeth put a hand on Neal's arm, stopping him.
When they were alone, she said, "Everything going okay?"
"Great. Can't complain."
"Good. I hope you had a chance to chat with everyone." She looked at her watch. "Go on and join the others. I have to check on the band."
Neal followed the others to the kitchen, where a man from the caterer explained the job to them. It was simple enough: walk around the room with a tray and serve people, and collect champagne glasses when the guests were done.
Guests began to arrive, and the ballroom slowly filled with people. Neal and the other slaves circulated around the room, carrying trays.
For all the fuss about costumes and makeup, only a few guests gave Neal more than a passing glance. The ones who did were mostly women, whose eyes lingered on his bare chest as he walked by.
Soft music played above the din of conversation. Neal carried a tray of champagne glasses. It was soon empty, and he started to make his way back toward the kitchen.
The other slaves were following their orders with varying degrees of success. Rachel and Susan were focused on their work, but Stephen was sticking to the less-populated parts of the room. Alyssa was chatting with a couple guests. He caught sight of Liam just in time to see him stick some bruschetta in his mouth.
Neal thought it best to stay on track. He was, after all, doing this to impress Elizabeth and prove Peter wrong.
In front of him, a young woman in a pink dress was making her way through the crowd. Neal heard something fall and, looking down, saw a bracelet on the floor where she had just walked. No one else had noticed. Neal crouched down and quickly picked it up.
He stepped over by the wall. He set his empty tray on a table and examined his find. It was a sapphire and diamond tennis bracelet. His perfunctory study told him that the gems were high-quality. The bracelet would be worth several thousand, at least.
His chest pounded as he thought about how easy it would be to take it. The girl hadn't noticed it missing yet. No one, as far as he could tell, had seen him pick it up. Even these ridiculous pants had small side pockets that he could stash it in. It was ridiculously easy. He now saw why Peter didn't like the thought of him spending time around Elizabeth's clients.
Neal preferred to play the roles of men who were at home in high society. Men like Steve Tabernackle and Nick Halden. But Neal had also pulled some cons by pretending to be a waiter. It was perfect—so many people overlooked the servers, and events like these were chances for the rich to let their guard down and display their wealth. Surprisingly few people remembered that slaves were criminals.
Yet, if he was caught, it would mean time added to his sentence. It might even be enough for Peter to send him away and doom him to being government property. A small theft of opportunity didn't seem worth all that. And then he looked at the young woman, his potential mark. She was young, early twenties, maybe, and he doubted she was old enough to afford the bracelet on her own. He made his way over to where she was standing with a glass of water, and held out the bracelet.
"Excuse me," he said, "is this yours?"
Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, it is! Thank you so much! That clasp is getting loose."
"You'll have to watch that," Neal said. "It's very beautiful. It'd be a shame to lose it. May I?"
She nodded and held out her wrist. Neal put the bracelet around it and made sure the clasp was secure.
"There," he said with a smile.
The girl beamed at him. There was a barely-noticeable flush to her cheeks. She looked like she was going to say something, but then someone called out "Cecilia!" and she whipped around and hurried off in the direction of the voice.
"Why'd you give that back?"
Neal looked over his shoulder and saw Liam. His tray was empty, and Neal wondered how much of the bruschetta had ended up in his stomach.
"You could've taken it," Liam continued. "Bet it was worth a ton."
"Wasn't worth the trouble," Neal said.
Liam snorted. "Yeah, right. It was more trouble giving it back."
Neal narrowed his eyes. "What'd they get you for, anyway?"
"Stole some cars," Liam said, grinning. "Never met a car I couldn't break into."
"I can see it's working out great for you so far."
His smile faded. "Whatever. You got caught, too."
Someone grabbed Neal's shoulders. Neal turned his head and saw Elizabeth behind him.
"Enough conversation. People need champagne." She pointed at Liam. "And you—there are more appetizers in the kitchen."
Neal turned toward the kitchen, but Elizabeth stopped him.
"Oh, and if you see Stephen and Alyssa, let them know they're needed on the floor, okay? I haven't seen them in a while."
Neal went into the kitchen, followed closely by Liam. The catering crew was still at work, but everything was comparatively quiet compared to the other room. The sound of the party was muted. There was no sign of Stephen or Alyssa. Neal reloaded his tray with champagne and ventured back out into the din.
Soon, he'd given out half his glasses. He made his way around the perimeter of the room. When he was near the door to the storage room where he'd gotten changed, he heard a woman laugh. For a moment, he questioned whether the sound was coming from inside the room or from the crowd in front of him. No, it was definitely coming from inside the room.
There was a table nearby. He set down his tray and slowly opened the storage room door an inch. The room was dark, but he was able to see two familiar figures inside.
Alyssa had her arms wrapped around Stephen's waist. He was kissing her neck and had one hand up her skirt. She moaned and pressed her head against his shoulder.
Neal shut the door as quietly as he could. He looked around to make sure that he hadn't been seen, but, as usual, it was like he was invisible to the partiers. He picked up his tray and began to circulate in the crowd again.
He ran into Elizabeth again a minute later.
"I still haven't seen Stephen and Alyssa," she said. "They weren't in the kitchen?"
"Oh, right," Neal said, feigning a realization. "I think Alyssa went to the restroom. And I'm pretty sure Stephen went outside to have a cigarette."
Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. "Unbelievable!" She threw up her hands and stormed off.
Stephen might get in some trouble for smoking...but not as much as he would for screwing around with another slave, probably.
Alyssa emerged from the storage room first. A few minutes later, Stephen came out. Alyssa gave him a smile from across the room, but otherwise, they didn't acknowledge each other. Stephen looked at Neal, but didn't say anything.
The rest of the night was dull but mercifully quick.
As the crowd began to thin out, there was less and less to do. Even Elizabeth seemed to slow down and catch her breath.
Neal was trying to look busy when he noticed the girl whose bracelet he'd found, Cecilia, eyeing him from a few feet away. He flashed a smile and she took it as an invitation, coming over to him.
"I wanted to thank you again for earlier," she said.
"It was my pleasure. It's been a while since I've seen sapphires with such gorgeous transparency."
She leaned against the wall. She held her evening bag in front of her and fiddled with the clasp. "You've seen a lot of gemstones?"
"You could say it's a hobby."
"Would it be really rude if I asked what happened?"
He blinked and touched his collar. "You mean this?"
She nodded and then looked away. "I'm sorry. I'm being rude...."
"No, no. I don't mind talking about it. I was falsely accused of bond forgery."
"Oh, wow."
"Yeah. I'm keeping a good attitude about it, though."
Elizabeth, who had been talking to her client on the other side the room, walked over.
"Neal," she said, "you're needed in the kitchen. Come on."
Neal gave Cecilia an apologetic shrug and followed Elizabeth. Once they were out of earshot, Elizabeth lowered her voice and said, "No flirting with the guests."
"She started it. And I wasn't even flirting. I'm being friendly."
"You were enjoying the attention. Now go." She gave him a gentle pat on the ass to propel him forward.
Neal walked off in a huff. He wasn't even that interested in the girl, really. Not like that. She was a couple years too young for him. But it was nice to get some attention from someone other than Peter or Elizabeth for a change. And there was no harm indulging her interest.
A half hour later, most of the guests were gone. Neal and the other slaves changed back into their street clothes. Elizabeth had the caterer leave a few plates of leftover appetizers in the kitchen. Neal hadn't eaten in hours, and now that the party was over, he realized how hungry he was. The others must have felt the same way.
When they gathered in the kitchen, Neal chose to listen more than talk. He wanted to hear about the other slaves' lives, but he didn't want to share too much about his.
Liam was complaining that he had to share a bed with another slave.
"You're lucky," Stephen said. "I just get a mat on the floor. After four years, you'd think I'd get more recognition."
Neal got the sense that Rachel and Susan were too shrewd to complain so openly, but they seemed weary of the work they would need to do when guests came for Christmas.
"My consolation," Naomi said, "is that if I was free and doing the work I do, I'd probably make shit. At least this way, I have a generous mistress."
Alyssa shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fortunate, really. My master's gone all the time, so I have the apartment to myself a lot."
Gradually, the others were collected by their owners, until it was just Neal, Naomi, and Stephen who were left.
Stephen's mistress, Donna, was monopolizing Elizabeth and Mimi outside the kitchen, and Neal could make out Elizabeth saying things like, "In your own bedroom?" and "You're better off without him."
Naomi excused herself to use the restroom. As they finished off a plate of stuffed crab shells, Stephen leaned in closer to Neal and lowered his voice.
"Look, I know you saw me with Alyssa earlier."
"It's none of my business. I didn't say anything."
"Thanks. Listen, if Alyssa's master knew, it could ruin things for her. He's in love with her, and she's been running a con on him for a year now."
"No, I understand. It's good you're looking out for her."
"I owe you one. Hey, my mistress doesn't like to micromanage me, so I get out of the apartment a lot. Sometimes I do favors for people. I've delivered letters for Alyssa sometimes. If you ever want something, you can give me a call. We'll work something out."
Neal raised his eyebrows. "Just call?"
"I'm the only one who answers the landline."
He picked up a pen and notepad that was on the counter and scribbled down a phone number. He tore off the sheet, folded it up into a small square, and handed it to Neal.
Neal silently stashed it in his pocket.
Within an hour, Neal and Elizabeth were on their way home. After the music and the pervasive din of conversation, the drive was peacefully quiet. Elizabeth didn't even turn the radio on.
They were on the Brooklyn Bridge when she said, "You did a good job. I knew you'd make a natural server."
"I worked as a waiter for a while when I was sixteen."
He didn't mention the cons he'd run. The last thing he needed was to give them another reason to think he couldn't be trusted with a job like this.
"Well, you're very good at it. And I think it was good for you to get out of the house for a while. I'll have to use you the next time I need help."
"I'd be glad to help." Thinking of something, he said, "Don't servers usually wear uniforms?"
Elizabeth smiled. "You're right, they do. We'd have to pick you up some dress shoes, and maybe a white shirt." She glanced at him. "Don't look so excited. We can't get you anything too fancy. It all needs to be tax deductible."
Neal barely paid attention to her warning. All he cared about was the prospect of getting new clothes. And, better yet, shoes.
"So, did you like meeting other slaves?"
He could tell she was trying to hide her interest, but it was obvious nonetheless.
"Sure," he said, making sure to keep his tone nonchalant.
He wondered what she expected. Did she want him to make friends? Learn how to be a good slave? Learn his place?
"Mimi was telling me that she's looking for a boyfriend for Naomi. She thought you might be a good candidate." She chuckled, but gave Neal a curious glance.
Neal raised his eyebrows. "She wants me to date her slave? What did you tell her?"
"I said I didn't think we'd be interested. But if you are, you know, I could talk to Peter. We could consider it."
"No," Neal said quickly. "I'd rather not have an arranged relationship. Thanks. How would that even work? You'd set up dates? Pick me up when they're over?"
"It's not uncommon, actually. Some owners do it so their slaves don't get lonely."
Neal didn't know what to think. Slave romances were not something he'd ever considered before, and tonight he'd gotten insight into two different ways of going about it.
"Do you want me to date another slave?"
"Honestly? No. But if it would make you happy...."
If it would make him forget about Kate, that was. Now he understood what this was about.
"No," he said. "It wouldn't. Besides, I don't think Naomi and I had much chemistry."
Elizabeth looked relieved, but didn't say anything more on the issue.
When they got home, Peter was still up. He was reading a case file in front of the TV.
"Hey, Hon," he said as they came in the door. "How'd it go?"
"Wonderful," Elizabeth said. "And Neal made us proud."
"Good to hear."
"In fact," Elizabeth said, looking at Neal, "I think Neal deserves to draw a reward out of the jar."
Neal felt like sighing. He knew they were trying to manipulate him into good behavior, but did they have to be so patronizing about it? But he just played along, smiling as he followed Elizabeth into the kitchen.
He remembered how he'd positioned the reward cards, and decided to pull out "A new book." He'd already looked at all of Elizabeth's art books, and he needed some new entertainment.
Chapter 14
