The Contract

by Melanie Moreland

  “This is your house?”

  She shook her head. “No. I rent an apartment in the house.”

  I slammed the car into park, yanking off my seatbelt. “Show me.”

  I followed her up the uneven path, double clicking the key fob. I hoped the tires were still attached to my car when I returned. In fact, I hoped the car would be there.

  I didn’t try to hide my displeasure as I looked around at what I assumed was considered a studio apartment. I considered it a dump. A futon, an old chair, and a desk that also served as a table were the only pieces of furniture in the room. A short counter with a hot plate and a small refrigerator posed as a kitchen. There were a half dozen boxes piled by the wall. A wardrobe hanger held the dowdy suits and blouses Katharine wore.

  I strode over to the one door in the room and threw it open. A tiny bathroom held a shower so minute I knew I would never be able to use it. I closed the door and turned to Katharine. She watched me with nervous eyes.

  None of this made any sense to me.

  I stepped in front of her, towering over her small stature. “Do you have a problem I should know about?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Do you have a drug problem? Or some other addiction?”

  “What?” She gasped, her hand clutched to her chest.

  I flung out my arm. “Why are you living like this—like a poor church mouse? I know what you make. You can afford a decent place. What are you spending your money on?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she glared. “I do not have a drug problem. I have other priorities for my money. Where I sleep doesn’t matter.”

  I glared right back. “It does to me. You aren’t staying here anymore. Pack your shit. Now.”

  She slammed her hands on her hips. “No.”

  I stomped forward. The room was small enough, when she retreated, her back hit the wall. I towered over her menacingly and studied her face. Her eyes, although angry, were clear. Holding her gaze, I grabbed her wrist, pushing her sleeve up. She almost snarled as she tugged her arm away, holding it up, then doing the same to her other arm.

  “No needle tracks, Richard,” she spat. “I don’t do drugs. I don’t smoke them, ingest them, or shoot them into my system. Satisfied? Or, do you want to check more? Should I pee in a jar for you?”

  “No. I suppose I have to trust you. If I find out you’re lying, this whole deal is off.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  I eased back. “Fine. This isn’t up for discussion—you’re out of here tonight. I won’t risk Graham finding out you live in a place like this shithole.”

  “And if you aren’t offered the job? What do I do then? I doubt you’ll let me stay on with you.”

  I barked out a laugh. She was right. “With what I’m paying you, you’ll be able to afford something decent.” I looked around again. “You aren’t bringing this furniture.”

  “It’s not mine.”

  “Thank God.”

  “You’re a snob, you know that? It’s old, but it’s still serviceable and clean.”

  I had to admit, the small space was meticulous and clean—but it was still hideous. I ignored her jibe.

  “Do these boxes go?”

  “Is it really necessary to do this right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “The boxes go.”

  “Fine. I’ll put those in the back seat. Your, ah, wardrobe can go in the trunk. What else do you have?”

  “A few personal things.”

  I pushed an empty plastic laundry hamper her way. “Put them in there. Throw out any food you have.”

  A strange look crossed her face. “I don’t have any—except a few muffins.”

  I snorted. “Is eating a problem, too? No wonder you’re so fucking thin.”

  She tossed her head. “Are you going to even attempt to be polite? Or will you only save the effort for when we’re in public?”

  I lifted the first set of boxes. “I guess you’ll find out. Now, get your stuff. You’re not coming back here.”

  I opened the guest room door, striding in and turning on the light after I set down the same boxes I had loaded up on the other side of town. Together, after we made a few trips, we brought all the contents into her room. I stepped back and assessed the situation. It wasn’t much. I was tempted to demand to know why she had so little, then decided it wasn’t worth the fight. I could tell from the tense set of her shoulders and the way her lips pressed together, I had pushed her enough for the night.

  “Katharine, trust me. This is for the best. Now when they ask you, you can honestly say we live together.”

  “And if your idea fails, my life is shattered.”

  “If my idea fails, your life was done anyhow. David would never trust you to remain; he’d fire you and you’d have nothing. This way you’ll have some money in the bank, I’ll make sure you get a new job, and you can have a nicer place. One way or another, it has to be a fucking lot better than what you had.”

  She stared at me.

  “In the meantime, you have a place that’s safe and it’s far more comfortable. When we move forward, you can decorate the room to suit your taste. You have access to the whole condo. Besides my workout room, there’s a great pool and spa area downstairs, and I guarantee you, your bathroom is luxurious.”

  “Is there a bathtub?” she wondered, a trace of wistfulness in her voice.

  I felt strangely pleased to be able to tell her yes, and I opened the door with a flourish, showing her the massive tub. For the first time, I saw a real smile on her face. It softened her expression, lighting up her eyes. They really were an incredible shade of blue.

  “It’s yours, Katharine. Use it whenever you like.”

  “I will.”

  I walked over to her door. “Get settled and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be long and difficult, and we need to get you ready for the weekend.” I hesitated, but I knew I needed to begin trying. “Goodnight, Katharine.”

  “Goodnight, Richard.”

  KATHARINE

  I couldn’t sleep. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, yet I couldn’t relax. The strange events of the past few days played on a constant loop in my mind. Richard’s unexpected offer, my even more unexpected response, and his reaction to where I’d been living. He’d been beyond disgusted and furious, with his usual demanding demeanor in full force. Before I could blink, my few possessions were in the trunk of his large, luxury car and I was back in his condo—on a permanent basis, or until he was done with his inane plan. The inane plan I was now entrenched in as deeply as my boss.

  The condo was silent. There was literally no noise. I was used to the sounds that surrounded me at night: traffic, other tenants moving around, yelling, and the constant sound of sirens and violence outside my window. They were the noises that kept me awake, sometimes fearful, yet now they were absent, I couldn’t sleep. I knew I was safe. This place was a hundred, no a thousand times safer, than the terrible room I had lived in the past year. I should be able to relax and slumber peacefully.

  The bed was huge—deep and plush—the sheets silky soft and rich, and the duvet felt like a warm feather floating over my body. The silence, however, was too loud.

  I stole out of bed and went to my door. I opened it, wincing at the low creak as the hinges protested their use. I strained my ears, yet I couldn’t hear anything. We were up too high for traffic, and the walls were well insulated, so there was no noise from anyone in the building.

  I tiptoed down the hall, pausing in front of the door I knew was Richard’s room. It was slightly ajar, and bravely I pushed it open wider and stuck my head in the opening. He was asleep in the middle of a gigantic bed—bigger than the one I had—bare-chested, with his hand resting on his torso. Obviously, the events of the past couple days weren’t bothering him at all. His shiny hair showed up in the dim glare against the dark color of his sheets, and to my surprise, he sn
ored. The sound was subtle but constant. In repose, and without the ever-constant sneer on his face, he looked younger, and less of a tyrant. In the muted moonlight, he appeared almost peaceful. It wasn’t a word I had ever associated with him, and he wouldn’t look that way if he woke up and found me in his doorway.

  Nevertheless, it was the sound of his even breathing and rumbling snores I needed to hear. To know I wasn’t alone in this vast, unfamiliar space. I listened for a few moments, left his door opened, and returned to my own room, leaving the door ajar, too.

  I settled back into the bed and concentrated. It was low, but I could hear him. His odd wheezes offered me a small measure of comfort—a lifeline I needed desperately.

  I sighed realizing if he knew he was comforting me, he would probably sit up all night in order to deny me the security it brought.

  I turned my face into the pillow, and for the first time in months, cried.

  He was subdued in the morning when I walked into the kitchen. He sipped from a large mug and indicated I could help myself to the Keurig machine on the counter.

  In awkward silence, I made a coffee, unsure what to say.

  “I hadn’t expected company. I don’t have cream.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He pushed a piece of paper my way. “I wrote your resignation letter.”

  I frowned as I picked it up and read it. It was simple and straightforward.

  “You didn’t think I could write this myself?”

  “I wanted to make sure it was plain. I didn’t want you detailing your reasons for leaving.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  “What? What don’t you understand now?” He ran a hand along the back of his neck.

  “If you don’t trust me enough to write a simple resignation letter, how do you expect to trust me enough to act like we’re—” the word stuck in my throat “—lovers?”

  “One thing I do know about you, Katharine, is you work hard. You’ll do a good job because it’s what you do. You’re a pleaser. You’ll act exactly the way I need you to act because you want to earn the money you’re being paid.”

  He picked up his briefcase. “I’m heading to the office. There’s a spare key and a pass card for the building on the hall table. Your name is already added to the tenant list and the doormen won’t hassle you. You should introduce yourself to them, just to be sure.”

  “How . . . how did you do that already? It’s not even eight o’clock.”

  “I’m on the board, and I get what I want. According to the files, you’ve been living here for three months. I want your resignation in my hand right after lunch, and you’ll leave. I’ve asked for some file boxes to be delivered to my office. I don’t have a lot, but you can help me pack up my personal stuff this morning. Add anything of yours to the boxes. I’ll bring them here.”

  “I don’t have much of anything at the office.”

  “Fine.”

  “Why are you packing up? You haven’t been fired yet.”

  He flashed his smile. The one that held no warmth. The one that made the person on the receiving end acutely uncomfortable.

  “I’ve decided to quit. It’ll piss off David, and show Graham how serious I am. I’ll accept your resignation, and hand them both in to David at three. It’s a shame you’ll be gone for the show, but I’ll fill you in on all the gory details when I get home.”

  I gaped at him. I couldn’t keep up.

  “You like Italian?” His question was offhanded, as if he hadn’t dropped yet another explosive bombshell.

  “Um, yes.”

  “Great. I’ll order dinner for about six, and we can spend the night talking. Tomorrow morning, you’re going shopping for a suitable outfit for the barbeque, and I’ve made an appointment for your hair and makeup. I want you to look the part.”

  He turned on his heel. “See you at the office.” Then he laughed, the sound making me shiver. “Sweetheart.”

  I sat down as the door shut, feeling dizzy.

  What had I agreed to?

  KATHARINE

  THE MORNING WAS TENSE FOR me—even Richard felt it. He had little in the way of personal items in the office, but I helped him pack up some awards, books, and a couple shirts he kept on hand for emergencies. I shook my head as I folded one, trailing my finger over the sleeve. All his shirts were custom made, and his initials RVR embroidered into the cuffs; a decadent touch only he could carry off. His items only filled two file boxes. His office was as impersonal as his condo. Glancing around, I realized it didn’t look any different. No one would notice, unless someone was looking.

  A small piece of sculpture caught my eye and I stretched up, grabbing it off the shelf. “Did you want to take this, Richard?”

  He focused his gaze on the sculpture, but before he could reply, his office door flung open and David strode in. He stopped dead, looking at us. Richard was leaning against his desk, his resignation letter in hand, me standing, holding the sculpture beside an open box. David’s face was like thunder.

  “What the fuck is going on here?”

  Richard pushed off his desk, sauntering over to where I stood. He plucked the sculpture from my hand and smirked as he tossed it into the box and fitted the lid on top.

  “I think we’re done here, Katharine. Go to your desk and wait for me.”

  I froze in place. The sensation of his fingers drifting down my cheek startled me out of my stupor. “Sweetheart,” he murmured. His voice was a low hum in my ears. “Go.”

  I blinked at him.

  Sweetheart?

  What was he doing?

  He bent closer, his breath warm on my skin. “I’ll be fine, go to your desk. We’ll leave in a minute.” His hand wrapped around my waist, pushing me forward.

  Completely confounded, I did what he asked. I hadn’t made it more than two feet when David started yelling. He cursed and shouted, reaching out to grab my arm.

  Richard pushed him away, standing between us.

  “You don’t touch her, David. Do you understand me?”

  “What the fuck! Are you . . . are you fucking her, Richard? Are you telling me you’re having an affair with your assistant?”

  I held my breath, unsure what would happen next.

  “It’s not an affair, David. We’re in love.”

  David laughed—a dry, brittle laugh that held no humor. “In love?” he sneered. “You can’t stand her. You’ve been trying to get rid of her for months!”

  “A good cover. One you fell for—hook, line, and sinker.”

  David’s voice dripped ice. “You just signed your death warrant with this company.”

  Richard smirked. “Too late.” He pushed two pages of heavy company stationery in David’s direction. “I quit. So does my fiancée.”

  David gaped. “Your fiancée? You’d throw your career away over a trashy piece of ass? A lousy, worthless fuck?”

  It happened so fast, I had no time to stop it. One second David was shouting, the next, Richard was standing over his prone figure, his hand curled into a fist so tight his knuckles were white. He towered over him, chest heaving; he was the very picture of a man protecting something, or someone he loved. “You never talk about her like that, again. You never talk about her, period. We’re leaving here today. I’m done with you fucking me over, dictating who I fall in love with and where. I’m done with you and Anderson Inc.”

  “You’re going to regret this, Richard.” David spat, wiping the blood off his face.

  “The only thing I regret is wasting as much time as I have giving you the best fucking campaigns this company ever produced. Good luck with your success record once I’m gone.”

  He stepped back. “Sweetheart, get your things. We’re leaving. Now.”

  I ran to my desk, grabbing my purse and coat. The few things I found in my desk earlier were already in Richard’s boxes. I had made sure there was nothing personal on my computer and my area was tidy. I knew Richard had wiped his hard drive, chuckl
ing as he did something, muttering, “Good luck, fuckers,” then shut down the machine. I could only imagine what the IT department would discover.

  He strode out of the office, ignoring David, who was screaming obscenities, threatening lawsuits and telling him he was ruined. He indicated the exit with his head, and I scurried to open the door, following him down the hall, David trailing us, still cursing and flinging insults. Other employees and executives were staring at the commotion. I kept my eyes focused on Richard’s back, certain he was strutting. He held his head high, shoulders straight, not at all embarrassed by the scene he had caused.

  When we reached the elevator, he pushed the button and turned to the small crowd who were watching, not knowing what was going on, but loving the drama of it all.

  “It’s been a pleasure, but I’m out of here. Good luck working for the bloodsucker we all know as David.” The doors opened and he dropped the boxes inside, then swept his arm in a wide arc. “After you, my lady.”

  I stepped in, my face flushed with embarrassment. As the elevator doors began to close, he stuck his arm out, forcing them to reopen. “And by the way, so you can stop gossiping and wondering, yes, Katharine and I are together. She’s the best thing this company ever did for me.”

  With those words, he grabbed me, dragged me to him, kissing me as the doors shut, closing off the shocked gasps.

  Immediately, Richard moved away from me. I stumbled back against the wall, breathing fast. His kiss had been hard, deliberate, with an edge of anger to it.

  “Why did you do that?”

  Bending down, he picked up the boxes and shrugged. “Might as well leave with a bang.” He chuckled. “The way the gossip mill works in this industry, this will be everywhere by tonight.” He started to laugh, his head falling back on his shoulders. “That fucker did me a huge favor and he has no idea.”

  The doors opened, and I followed him to his car. I waited until I sat beside him before I asked. “Favor? Did you . . . did you plan all this?”

  He grinned, looking almost boyish. “No. I planned on doing it differently, but when he barged in, I went in another direction.” He winked as he slid on his sunglasses. “I do that well, Katharine. The client wants it changed, you learn to think on your feet. David knew what was happening as soon as he saw the boxes. I decided a scene would be a good thing.”