“Your wine, master.” Yalé came with a small tray with a wine glass full of my favorite red.
“How are the preparations for tomorrow’s dinner coming along?” I looked up from the papers. She already drank hell’s liquid. She had hell’s food. Her body was handling them very well. The only thing left was to bring her body here. But a few glasses of alcohol would make it relaxed enough to survive the travel with her aware subconsciousness. She wouldn’t have to be sleeping or under hypnosis. Not to mention, the hypnosis didn’t always work.
“Yes. We are almost finished with the main bedroom, dining room as well as the garden.”
“Make sure it looks completely the same as the place I told you to model it after,” I mumbled while signing another parchment. These reports were almost never-ending. The
