The Bad Guy

"Welcome home," said Dominik as Caleb sat me down in a chair at the kitchen table. This mansion was massive enough that it had a formal and informal dining room, and I wasn't sure if I should do work at the kitchen table.

"Thanks," I smiled up at him before turning to the other man. "Are you sure that I should be working here? I won't be in the way?" I had gotten so used to no one being around me while I worked that I learned to spread out a lot.

While this table might be big enough for six people to sit comfortably, when I got working, it would barely be big enough for me.

"Who makes the decisions?" Caleb asked, raising his eyebrow in challenge. He leaned forward, inches away from my face, with one hand on the tabletop and the other on the back of my chair.

"You do," I replied, slumping down in relief.