Chapter 8

When he turns around, Tim sits on one of the sofas, one leg crossed over one knee. He’s removed his jacket, which rests folded up across the back of the sofa, but his tie is still snug against his throat, and his cuffs are still buttoned. A relaxed business-man pose.

With a smirk, Bryce asks, “Did I say sit?”

Tim rolls his eyes as he hauls himself to his feet. “You’re being a bit of a pill today, you know that?”

“You’re not listening very well, are you?” Bryce counters. “What happened to yes, sir?”

Tim starts, “You didn’t ask—”

But Bryce cuts him off. “It was rhetorical. You know the rules; you set them up yourself. Another word that isn’tyes or sir and this ends, got that? Don’t make that face at me. Unbuckle your belt.”

Pressing his lips together to keep from saying anything that might put a stop to the proceedings, Tim obeys. He unbuckles his belt, then goes a step further and begins to pull it off.