The Contract

by Melanie Moreland

  “Chances are,” I spoke in a quiet voice, “even if I don’t go to The Gavin Group, when I leave Anderson Inc., David will fire you anyway. If I do get the job there, he will for sure. He’ll be convinced you knew of my plans somehow. I know how his mind works.”

  “Why can’t you get someone else?”

  “I don’t know anyone else. The kind of women I usually date won’t . . . They aren’t the right fit.”

  “And I am? Why?”

  “You want me to be honest?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re practical, sensible . . . plain. I have to admit there’s a warmth about you people seem drawn to. I don’t see it myself, but it’s obviously there. The fact you’re my assistant is the perfect cover for me leaving. I could never date you and stay at Anderson Inc. Not that I ever would under normal circumstances.”

  Hurt flashed across her face, and I shrugged.

  “You said to be honest.”

  She didn’t respond to my statement, except to say, “I’m not sure how you expect to pull this off when you dislike me so much.”

  “Katharine, do you think I like most of the people I work with—or the clients I deal with? I don’t. Most of them I can’t stand. I smile and joke, shake hands and act as though I’m interested. I’ll treat our relationship the same way. It’s business. I can do that.” I paused and lifted my chin. “Can you?”

  She didn’t speak, and I kept going.

  “All of this rides on you. I’ve placed a great deal of trust in you right now. You could run to David tomorrow, or even Graham, and blow this entire idea for me—but I hope you won’t. Think about the money and what it could do for you. A few months of your time, for what I’ll pay you, is more than you’ll make all year. In fact, I’ll guarantee you sixty grand. Six months. Even if we part ways after three. It has to be twice what you make in a year.”

  “And all I have to do is . . .”

  “. . . is act as though you love me.”

  She fixed me with a look, which said everything she didn’t want to express. “Do I get this in writing?”

  “Yes. We’ll both sign a confidentiality agreement. I’ll pay you twenty grand up front. You’ll get the rest at the end of each month. In addition, I’ll open an account for you to use for expenses. Clothes, any incidentals; that sort of thing. I expect you to dress the part, as well as act it.”

  She studied me for a moment. “I need to think about this.”

  “You can’t think long. If you agree, you need clothes for Saturday, and we need to spend some time together getting to know each other.”

  “If I don’t agree?”

  “I’ll tell Graham you’re ill and can’t make it. Then hope he gives me a chance to prove myself and hires me regardless.”

  “And if not?”

  “I’ll leave Victoria, but I don’t want to. I want to stay here, and I’m asking you to help me.”

  She stood up. “I have to go.”

  I rose to my feet, looking down—she barely reached my chest. “I need your answer soon.”

  “I know.”

  “Where are you parked?”

  She blinked at me. “I don’t have a car, Mr. VanRyan. I walked here.”

  “It’s too late for you to be out on your own. I’ll get Henry to call you a cab.”

  “I can’t afford a cab.”

  “I’ll pay for it,” I huffed. “I don’t want you walking. Can you drive? Do you know how?”

  “Yes, I just can’t afford to own a car.”

  “I’ll get you one. If you agree to do this arrangement, I’ll buy you a car. You can keep it. Think of it as a signing bonus.”

  She bit her lip, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to think about any of this.”

  “Think of it as an opportunity. A lucrative one.” I flashed a grin. “A deal with the devil, if you want.”

  She only arched her eyebrow. “Good night, Mr. VanRyan.”

  “Richard.”

  “What?”

  “If I can’t call you Miss Elliott, you can’t call me Mr. VanRyan, either. My name is Richard. You’ll have to get used to saying it.”

  “Maybe I’ll call you something else entirely.”

  I could imagine what she called me to herself. I could think of several names that would be appropriate.

  “We’ll speak in the morning.”

  With a nod, she left. I called down to Henry, telling him to get her a cab and put it on my account. I got myself a scotch and sat down on the sofa, frustrated. Earlier, when I spoke, I made the snap decision to make Miss Elliott my fiancée rather than merely my girlfriend. It made my decision to leave Anderson Inc. all that more solid. It showed I was serious and ready for real commitment—something I felt Graham would value. It didn’t matter to me one way or another—girlfriend or fiancée—but to someone like Graham, it would. Girlfriend said temporary, replaceable. Fiancée implied permanency and trust. I was certain he would react favorably to that title.

  I yanked on my cowlick in apprehension, and downed the scotch in one swallow. I had hoped to get an answer from her right away; however, it became apparent I wasn’t going to get it. So now, Miss Elliott, the woman I disliked, and from all accounts, felt the same way about me, held my future in her hands. It was an odd feeling.

  I didn’t like it.

  I sank into the cushion of the sofa as my head fell back, my mind drifting. My phone beeping startled me, and I realized I’d nodded off. I picked up the phone, glancing at the two words on the screen.

  I accept.

  With a smirk, I tossed my phone on the table.

  My plan was full steam ahead.

  RICHARD

  THE NEXT MORNING, WE BOTH acted as if nothing was different. Miss Elliott brought in my coffee and bagel, carefully placing them on my desk. She went over my schedule, confirming two meetings I had outside the office.

  “I won’t be back this afternoon.”

  She looked puzzled, checking her notebook. “You don’t have anything in your schedule.”

  “I made the appointment myself. Personal business. I’ll go straight to my two o’clock afterward. In fact, I won’t be back this afternoon. Take the time off.”

  “Pardon me?”

  I sighed. “Miss Elliott, can you not understand English? Take the afternoon off.”

  “But . . .”

  I pinned her with a glare. “Take the afternoon off.” I lowered my voice. “My place at seven, okay?”

  “Okay,” she breathed out.

  “If you need anything—business related—text me. Otherwise, it needs to wait.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  It was common knowledge Anderson Inc. monitored emails. Not one to take chances, I had my own cellphone, to which only a select few had the number. I knew there was no point asking Miss Elliott if she had one, as money seemed limited. I planned to rectify that today, along with my other errands. I didn’t want to take the chance David had texts and calls monitored, as well.

  “You can go.” I dismissed her.

  She hesitated before withdrawing an envelope from her thick notepad, and placed it on the desk. She left without a word, closing the door behind her. I took a bite of my bagel, then reached for the envelope and opened it, removing the folded papers. It was a list about her. Things she thought I should know: pertinent dates, her favorite colors, music, foods, general likes and dislikes.

  It was a good idea. It would save some monotonous conversation tonight. I would write up one for her, later.

  I refolded the list and slid it into my jacket pocket. I’d be sitting in waiting rooms on and off all day—it would give me something to keep me busy.

  Miss Elliott was punctual, arriving at seven o’clock. I opened my door, letting her enter, took her coat, and hung it up—the whole time silent. There was such stiffness, a formality to our interactions, which I knew had to change. Problem was, I didn’t know how to make it happen.

  I escorted her to the c
ounter by the kitchen and handed her a glass of wine. “I ordered Chinese.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “Believe me, you don’t want me cooking. You wouldn’t survive.” I chuckled. “I’m not sure the kitchen would survive.”

  “I like to cook,” she offered, a small smile curling her lips.

  That was as good a place to start as any. I sat down, dragging a file toward me. “I had a contract drawn up this afternoon. You should read it.”

  “Okay.”

  “I made you a list, much like yours. You can go over it and we need to talk about what’s on it. Make sure we’re both comfortable with the facts.”

  She nodded and took the proffered envelope.

  I pushed another smaller one toward her. “Your first payment.”

  She waited, her fingers not touching the innocent-looking envelope.

  “Take it. It’s all documented.”

  Still, she didn’t touch it.

  “Miss Elliott, unless you take it, we can’t go forward.”

  She looked at me, frowning.

  I nudged the envelope. “It’s a job, Katharine. This is your compensation. Simple. Take it.”

  Finally, she picked it up, not even looking at it.

  “I want you to resign tomorrow. Effective immediately.”

  “Why?”

  “If this happens, and I think it will, I’ll give my notice fast. I want you out of there before the shit hits the fan.”

  She worried the inside of her cheek, jittery and silent.

  “What?” I snapped, getting impatient with her demeanor.

  “What if it doesn’t work? Will you . . . will you give me a letter of reference? I’ll have to get another job.”

  “I’ve got that covered. I spoke with some contacts, just in general, and if this doesn’t work, and I leave Victoria, I have two companies I know will offer you a job. You won’t have to worry about looking, if you don’t want. In answer to your question, though, I will give you a glowing letter of recommendation.”

  “Even though you think I’m a lousy assistant?”

  “I’ve never said you were a lousy assistant. You are, in fact, good at your job.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  A knock at the door saved my reply. I rose to my feet. “Dinner is here. Read the contract—it’s very simple. We can discuss it and other things after we eat.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, I slammed my hand on the counter. “Stop arguing with me, Katharine. We’re having dinner, and you’re going to eat. Then we’ll talk.” I spun on my heel and headed to the door, exasperated. Why was she so against accepting a simple meal? She was going to have to get used to accepting many things for this to work. I slipped my hand in my pocket, encountering the small box I had hidden away. If she was unsure of dinner, she was going to hate what I had in store for her after.

  Dinner was quiet. She read the contract and asked a few questions, which I answered. She vacillated when I handed her a pen, but signed the documents, watching as I did the same.

  “I have two copies. One for each of us. I’ll keep them in the condo safe, for which I’ll give you the combination.”

  “Does your lawyer have a copy?”

  “No. This is an arrangement between us. He knows about it, but he is bound by client confidentiality. We have the only two copies. Once this is over, we can destroy them. I had them drawn up for your benefit.”

  “All right.”

  I handed her a box. “This is your new cellphone. You’ll have to give yours up when you resign, so now you have one. I programmed my personal number in there so you can reach me. You can text freely on it.”

  She bit her lip, accepting the box. “Thank you.”

  “How much stuff do you have to move in?”

  “Not much.”

  “What about breaking your lease?”

  “It’s month-to-month. I guess I’ll lose the last one.”

  I waved my hand. “I’ll cover it. Should I hire a moving company for you?”

  She shook her head, her eyes downcast. “It’s only a few boxes.”

  I frowned. “No furniture?”

  “No. Some books, a few personal pieces, and my clothes.”

  I spoke without thinking. “You can donate your clothes back to Goodwill since I presume most of them came from there anyway. I’ll be purchasing you a new wardrobe.”

  Her cheeks flushed, eyes flashed, dark and angry, but she said nothing.

  “I’ll pick up your boxes and bring them here when we move forward.”

  I handed her another envelope. “This is your new bank account and debit card. I’ll make sure there are appropriate funds in it at all times.”

  She accepted the envelope with a shaking hand.

  “I need you here as much as possible so we can get used to each other and talk. Tomorrow we can go over the lists and ask questions, fill in the blanks.”

  “Okay.”

  “Saturday morning, I want you here early. I have arranged an appointment for you to get ready for the barbeque. Do your hair and makeup. In fact, you may want to stay over Friday night, to save you the trip.”

  Her gaze flew to mine. “Stay over?” she repeated, a slight tremor in her voice.

  I stood up. “Let me show you the place.”

  She didn’t say a word during the tour. I showed her the guest rooms, the den, and the private gym located at the other end of the condo on the main level. Upstairs, she was decidedly nervous when I showed her the master bedroom.

  I indicated the guest room across the hall. “That one has a private en suite. I assume you’d like that room.”

  Her shoulders seemed to loosen. “You don’t, ah . . .”

  “I don’t what?”

  “You don’t expect me to sleep in your room,” she stated, sounding relieved.

  I smirked at her uncertainty. “Miss Elliott, this is a business arrangement. Outside these walls, we will appear as a couple. We’ll hold hands, stay close, do whatever other couples do who are in love.” I waved my hand in the air. “In here, we are real. You have your space; I have mine. I won’t bother you. I expect nothing from you.” I couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped. “You didn’t really think I’d want to sleep with you, did you?”

  Her head snapped up, and she glared at me. “No more than I’d want to sleep with you, Mr. VanRyan.” Turning on her heel, she marched down the hall, her footsteps small thumps on the hardwood floor.

  I followed her, still smirking. When we reached the living room, she whirled around, her eyes flashing.

  “You asked me to do this, Mr. VanRyan. Not the other way around.”

  “You agreed.”

  She crossed her arms, anger pouring off her body. “I’m doing this, because at the moment, I have no other choice. Your decisions have directly affected my life, and I’m trying to keep up. I hate lying, and I’m not a good actress.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “If you’re not even going to attempt to be polite, or at least be a decent human being, this isn’t going to work. I can’t turn off my emotions that quickly.”

  I pulled on my stubborn cowlick in vexation. “What do you want from me, Miss Elliott?”

  “Could we not at least try to get along? Surely we can find something we have in common and engage in a conversation without your veiled insults and holier-than-thou attitude.”

  A grin tugged at my lips. I was catching another glimpse of the backbone in Miss Elliott.

  I tilted my head. “I apologize. I’ll try to do better. Is there anything else you want since we’re putting everything on the table?”

  She hesitated, her fingers worrying the ugly shirt she wore.

  “Spit it out.”

  “You can’t, um, you can’t mess around while we’re doing . . . while we’re together.”

  “Mess around?”

  She looked everywhere but at me. “You can’t sleep with other women. I won’t be humiliat
ed like that.”

  “So what you’re saying is: I can’t fuck anyone?”

  Her cheeks were so red I thought her head would explode; however, she straightened her shoulders and looked right at me. “Yes.”

  This was too fun for me.

  “Yes, I can fuck around?”

  “No!”

  “No fucking,” I enunciated the last word.

  “No.”

  “You expect me to remain celibate the whole time?” I asked, now incredulous.

  “I will be, so I expect you to do the same.”

  I snorted. “I doubt it’s anything new for you.”

  She threw up her hands. “That’s it. You want to fuck someone? Go fuck yourself, VanRyan.”

  I gaped at her retreating figure as she grabbed her coat and stormed to the door.

  Like the idiot I was, I chased after her—for the second time.

  “Katharine!” I reached past her so she couldn’t open the door. “I’m sorry. My remark was uncalled for.”

  She turned; her eyes were bright with tears. “Yes, it was. So many of the things you say are.”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “It’s almost instinctual with you.”

  “That doesn’t make it any better.”

  “I know,” I conceded, then changed tactics. “I won’t.”

  “You won’t what?”

  “I won’t fuck around. I’ll abide by your wish.” I pressed harder against the door—if she left, I was really fucked. “I’ll try not to be such an ass, as well.”

  “I’m not sure you can change your DNA, but good luck with trying,” she mumbled.

  I relaxed—crisis averted.

  “I’ll drive you home.”

  She began to shake her head, and I gave her a fierce look. “Katharine, we agreed I was going to be less of an ass. I’ll drive you home. Tomorrow is going to be a long fucking day.”

  “Fine.”

  I grabbed my coat and opened the door for her, knowing my life was about to change in ways I never planned.

  I only hoped it would be worth it.

  RICHARD

  ASIDE FROM KATHARINE’S HESITANT INSTRUCTIONS, the drive was silent. The farther away we went from my neighborhood, the darker my mood turned. When we pulled up in front of a dilapidated house, I turned to Katharine.