The Dollhouse Society: Isabelle (New Adult BDSM Erotica) Read Online Free Page B

a week to dispose of medical wastes and make certain the clinic was up to medical code. I’d asked about the second floor, but he said because it was just the two of them since their parents had died ten years ago, most of the upper floor rooms had been sealed off and I only had to worry about their bedrooms. It was easy work—almost too easy. An almost obscene paycheck for no more than two hours of work a day. I felt like I was stealing their money.
    The carpet done, I shut off the vacuum and started rolling up the cord. “I put the dishes in the dishwasher and did all the ca rpets, Dr. Dorian. I also changed yours and Dr. Damian’s sheets and straightened up. I don’t think I forgot anything.”
    “Thank you, Belle,” he said in a soft monotone, still scribbling notes. “Thorough work, as always.”
    I checked my watch and realized I’d finished up in just forty-five minutes today. “Did you want me to do the upstairs rooms? I have plenty of time. I could start cleaning some of the closed-up rooms for you. It would be no bother.”
    “That won’t be necessary.”
    “Are you sure?”
    He looked up at me. “Yes.”
    I finished rolling up the cord and pushed the Dyson toward the door. I thought about getting my feather duster out even though I’d dusted only yesterday. I wanted to actually feel like I was earning the ridiculous wages my employers were paying me, but Dr. Dorian stopped me.
    “Belle, may I ask you something?”
    I turned to him and smiled. “Sure.”
    “My brother and I are attending a fundraising shindig for the American Cancer Society tomorrow night. Would you be available to act as our consort?”
    It took me a moment to digest that. “You want me to be your date? Yours and Dr. Damian’s?”
    “ Consort.” He offered me a smirk. “Arm candy, if you will. And no, that’s not code for anything.”
    “Both of you?” I was finding it a little odd tha t they didn’t each have high-class dates to bring—or escorts, or whatever men like the Michaels brothers took. I mean, they were doctors. Any woman in the city would kill to be on their arms.
    Dr. Dorian set his notebook down in his lap. “My brother and I like to share.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “It amuses the investors. Two doctors who look alike. One date between them.” He shrugged. “It entertains the investors and loosens their purses. But if you’re uncomfortable…”
    I thought about that. It was for a good cause. The American Cancer Society. And they were already paying me an absurd amount of money to do practically nothing. “No, it doesn’t bother me. It sounds like fun, actually.”
    I smiled, and Dr. Dorian smiled back.
    ***
    I’d found a little black cocktail dress on sale down at a thrift store on Market Street in the East Village. I’d thought it was really cute and sophisticated until I got to the house and saw Damian and Dorian coming down the spiral staircase dressed in tuxedos that would have had James Bond panting. Then I started feeling totally underdressed and exceedingly poor.
    I quickly e xcused myself, locked the door in the downstairs bathroom, sat on the closed lid of the toilet, and speed dialed Stefan. “Oh god, I’m totally in trouble, Stef,” I said as soon as I heard him pick up. I touched my pounding heart, afraid I was going to have a coronary.
    “What’s up? They didn’t pull something weird…?”
    “No. They’re totally gorgeous, both of them. And total gentleman, as always.”
    “So what’s the problem?”
    “I’m…me.”
    Stefan laughed. “You’re beautiful, Iz zy Pop. I know because I put you together myself.”
    “I’m not beautiful. I’m poor and fat and totally out of my league.” I was breathing too hard, on the verge of hyperventilating and passing out. I hadn’t had a panic attack like this in months.
    Stefan must have known because he coached me, saying, “Breathe, Iz, breathe.”
    “I’m trying!”
    “Put your head down between your legs and breathe.”
    I