The Terms Duet

by Rowe, Ruby

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Sorry, yes.”

  “Three, you will not bring drugs into my home, nor will you do them while living here. Four, you will not have strangers over without my prior knowledge, especially no dudes.

  “Five, you don’t treat my housekeeper, Theresa, like she’s your servant. She’s fucking awesome, and I’ll be pissed if she quits, and lastly, my home gym is off limits from five to six every weekday morning. That’s my time to work out.”

  I roll my eyes. “No worries there, Mr. Probation Officer. I have no plans to be up at five, nor do I have the desire to exercise.”

  He wrinkles his forehead. “I caught that. The snide nor reference. I hope you’re quick at getting ready because you now have ten minutes.”

  “But I don’t have any dress clothes.”

  “You can wear jeans until you get some.” He strolls out, and I’m stunned by the change in his demeanor. Where did yesterday’s sweet Greyson go?

  Greyson

  Yeah, I was a little hard on her, but I had to treat her like a child so I didn’t get hard from thinking of her as a woman.

  I could see her tits through her tank top. Although brief, it was long enough to turn me on. They’re the ideal roundness, heavy I’m sure. Fuck, I can imagine the weight of them in my hands.

  Whitney’s are too small. I’m such a douchebag. Wait, no, I have a right to my opinion about tits, and my personal preference is big ones. I’m sure Whit prefers my long dick over Sebastian’s three inches. She thinks I don’t know she’s screwing him, but I do.

  Anyway, I knew I was wrong to invade Sasha’s personal space, so I admonished her instead of myself. I’ll blame it on the lack of caffeine and her fine assets.

  Once I’ve put on my shoes and watch, I walk to the kitchen and start my Keurig. It’s moments like this when I wish Theresa worked every day, but she’s only here on Tuesdays and Fridays, cleaning and preparing my meals for the week.

  The ten minutes I gave Sasha have long passed, and I debate on harassing her to hurry up. I can get to work whenever the hell I want unless I have an early appointment, so I decide to cut her some slack today. I only pushed her this morning to see how cooperative she’d be.

  I hear her barrel into the kitchen behind me. I look back at her, and the poor girl’s hair is wet, and she’s out of breath. I smile, happy with her commitment to this.

  “Do you drink coffee?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go dry your hair. I’ll make you a to-go mug while I wait.”

  “Are you sure you won’t be late?”

  “Yep. Go before I change my mind.” She disappears, and her footsteps thump loudly on my hardwood floors as she runs down the hallway to one of my three bedrooms.

  Once I’ve fixed our drinks, I stroll to the living room and admire the mountains in the far-off distance. My penthouse condo is in the Cherry Creek neighborhood, which is in the center of the city.

  “I’m ready now.” I turn around, and Sasha is even more out of breath. She’s smiling this time, her eyes brighter than yesterday, and I imagine that’ll continue if she stays clean.

  A somberness settles over me when I recall the first time I saw her in her apartment. I think about how easy it would be for her to go right back to that state of despair.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Uh, nothing. Your coffee’s on the counter, and you can grab anything you want from the refrigerator or pantry to eat on the way.”

  “OK, thank you.” She leaves, and I gaze out the picture window again, warning myself not to get attached to her. I’ve felt the disappointment before when a friend I helped didn’t stay clean. There’s a fine line between supporting someone’s sobriety and becoming emotionally involved with them.

  “You have so much food,” she says excitedly. I turn, and her eyes are round as saucers, her grin surrounded by caramel-brown hair that’s naturally highlighted throughout. She’s too pretty, smiling like that as she holds a muffin, banana and her mug.

  I push out my lip. “You think?”

  “Yes, your pantry is stocked full. When the zombie apocalypse begins, I’m hiding out here.”

  “Zombies?” I ask with a chuckle.

  “I’m just joking. Well, sort of. Do you not watch The Walking Dead?”

  “I can’t say I have. Isn’t it cheesy with all those zombies?”

  “Oh, no. The acting is incredible, and the special effects make it so real. You have to watch it. We can start from the beginning and binge watch every season if you’d like.”

  I smile, enjoying how happy-go-lucky she is. Don’t get attached, Greyson. She can’t stick around. You’ll soon be living in a custom-built home with whiny Whit, listening to her go on and on about how gifted she is and how lucky I am to be graced by her angelic presence.

  “I don’t have much time to watch television, but you’re welcome to hang out in here and watch TV whenever you want.”

  “Right. I’m sorry I asked. I get excited about shows and movies. I guess they’re an escape for me. I fantasize about lives I’ll never get a chance to live.”

  It takes effort to hold my smile. I’m frustrated that I want to stay right here and learn more about her. She’s different from any woman I’ve known.

  Maybe it’s her youthful maturity level. I think she’s twenty-five, but she acts more like a twenty-year-old. I don’t want to call her immature because if I had to guess, there’s a dark explanation for her childlike nirvana. An explanation that was out of her control.

  “We should go.”

  Ellis

  Feeling a poke on my shoulder, I wake up to find Liam smiling down at me. I’ve often noticed how similar his blue eyes are to mine, but now I really see it.

  “Boss, whatcha doin’ here?”

  “I came to see you, but you were sleeping. I thought I would, too.” I start to sit up, so he moves to allow me room. I grin at how his hair is sticking up in the back like it often does.

  His Batman pajamas are funny, too, and I try to recall if I ever wore clothes with action figures on them. I don’t believe so. My parents dressed us in stuffy attire, so I’m sure mine were some atrocious plaid.

  “Did you come to swim? They have a pool, and it’s so, so big aaaaand deep.” He spreads his arms apart.

  “No, I don’t have my swim trunks. I do have a surprise for you at the house. Would you like to go see it?”

  “At your house?”

  “It’s your house, too.”

  “My house?” Pointing to his chest, he grins broader.

  “Yes, and you can live there for as long as you’d like.”

  “I want to wive there forever. I love my room and Iwene and Em.”

  I chuckle from his excitement and over how damn happy he makes me. Camilla strolls in, yawning with her steps.

  “Good morning,” she says.

  “Morning.”

  “Momma, Boss says I can wive with him forever.”

  Her eyes flit to mine and hang on tightly. They study me, looking for evidence that I’ve had a change of heart. I don’t want to hurt her, but nothing about us changed overnight.

  “Would you mind if we checked out soon and head home? I have a meeting somewhere at eleven and need time to shower. I took a taxi here, so we can ride back together,” I say.

  Sighing heavily, she turns her back on me and starts walking to the bedroom.

  “I’ll go pack our things and dress.”

  “Liam, you should get dressed, too,” I say, “and once we’re home, I’ll have Irene make you pancakes. Then, after my meeting, I’ll show you your surprise.”

  “Yes!” He jumps up and down, hopping like a rabbit all the way to the bedroom. I wish I had his energy this morning. I also wish I could forget about the past, but the second I saw Camilla, it resurfaced, along with the pain. I want to find a way to bury it with my brother.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sasha

  Greyson holds the glas
s door open for me to enter his business, G. Burke Enterprise. I walk in and smile at a young brunette behind a curved desk.

  Right away, I notice her lavender silk blouse and worry about being underdressed. I cross my arms and glance around the space.

  A window spans the entire front of the brick building, and like Greyson’s home, his office’s décor is rustic and not what I expected. Maybe it’s because of his wealth, but I pictured him with a modern style.

  The lobby reminds me of ski resorts I’ve seen on television. Wooden crown molding and beams are overhead, and there’s a colossal grey stone fireplace with a sizable cream rug lying before it. A brown leather sofa rests on top, across from two comfy chairs, making the space welcoming and cozy.

  “Kaylie, this is Sasha. She’s going to be assisting Rhonda. Sasha, this is Kaylie, our receptionist.” She stands to shake my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Sasha. Mr. Burke’s a cool boss. I think you’ll like it here.”

  “Kaylie’s the cool one. You should hear her mess with the telemarketers.” He gives her a nod. “Send my calls to voice mail for the next thirty minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replies before taking her seat.

  I follow Greyson through another glass door. There are offices on both sides of me as we stride down the long hallway. He stops at one on the left and taps on the open door.

  “Good morning.” Greyson motions for me to step up to the doorway.

  “Morning,” the guy replies.

  “I want to introduce you to Sasha. She’s going to be assisting Rhonda.”

  He arches an eyebrow and comes around the desk. Smiling, he shakes my hand.

  “I didn’t know she was getting an assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sasha. I’m Terrence, the appraisal manager and Greyson’s right-hand man.”

  “He is when he’s not braggin’ about it,” Greyson says. I take a glimpse of him, and his smirk exposes a hint of his dimples.

  “Welcome, Sasha. If you need anything at all, you come see me, and FYI, this one’s grumpy before his morning cup of Joe.”

  “Yes, I found that out earlier this morning.”

  Scrunching his forehead, he shoots Greyson a look.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. That wasn’t an appropriate comment,” I say.

  “Uh, come on. I’ll introduce you to Rhonda.” Greyson practically shoves me through the doorway, and once we’re out of earshot, he takes hold of my arm to stop me.

  “Listen, I’d rather you not tell anyone that you’re staying with me. Terrence and I are friends, so I’ll fill him in later, but otherwise, I’d like to keep it under wraps. I don’t need my staff gossiping or thinking I’m giving you preferential treatment because we’re friends.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not used to having to censor my thoughts in a work environment.”

  “I should’ve discussed that with you before we arrived.”

  “You think of us as friends?”

  “Yes, don’t you?” His crooked smile is heart-stirring, so I feel the heat creep up my neck.

  Biting the corner of my lower lip, I reply, “Yes.”

  “Let’s go. I need to introduce you to Rhonda.” Greyson taps on a door on the right, and an older woman at a desk lifts her dark brown eyes to look at me.

  “Good morning,” Greyson says. “I have some news. This is Sasha, and she’s going to be assisting you to alleviate some of your workload. Sasha, this is my senior paralegal, Rhonda.”

  Clearing her throat, she sets her lips in a flat line.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sasha. Mr. Burke, may I have a word with you in your office please?”

  “Sure. Sasha, have a seat. We’ll be back shortly.” They both leave the room, so I sit down. My hands are sweating, and my heart is racing.

  Every person I’ve met is dressed up. Terrence is wearing a tie, and Rhonda’s in a business skirt. I stare at the picture frame hanging across from me, and it’s her college diploma. I don’t belong here. I’m not smart enough or experienced.

  I fidget with my hands … cross and uncross my legs. I need out of here. I’ll thank Greyson for the opportunity and tell him I want to find my own job.

  “Sasha, come with me,” he says as he steps in front of the doorway. Rhonda waltzes in behind him, feigning a smile.

  “As soon as Greyson is finished meeting with you, I’ll get you started with something to do.” Although I’m glad there’s been a slight change in her demeanor, I’m feeling more trapped by the second.

  Greyson leads me to a door at the end of the hallway. I follow him inside another office, and wow … this must be his. Could his desk be any more massive? I walk right over to it and run my fingers along the intricately carved edging. The swirly walnut finish has character.

  “This desk is amazing.”

  “My grandfather had it custom-made for me. I think it was a peace offering.”

  “For what?”

  Slipping his hands in his pockets, he shrugs.

  “He wanted me to go into the oil business. My brother did–I didn’t. He shut me out for a few months, and I wondered if he’d ever speak to me again.

  “I don’t know what changed, but this was delivered the same day he invited me over for a drink. He said he would support me, but he added that one day I’d come to my senses and join my father and Lawrence to run the family business. I was glad we made amends, though, because he died soon after.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you think that day will come?”

  “Never. I only planned to dabble in real estate and stick with law, but once I got a taste of buying up property, I couldn’t stop.

  “It’s challenging to juggle both careers, but my father’s side of the family has always dealt in real estate. I figured Lawrence could carry on our mother’s side, and I’d carry on our father’s.”

  I glide my fingers over the wave-like carving again.

  “That’s admirable. I wish I had parents who were worthy enough for me to follow in their footsteps. Look, I appreciate this opportunity, but I think I should find my own job.

  “I don’t fit in here, and Rhonda didn’t look happy with the arrangement. Then, there’s the whole … what is it called? Conflict of interest?”

  He shakes his head. “Rhonda’s happy now. She just needed to hear my intentions. Also, I don’t hire mean people, so once you get to know them, you’ll feel at home.

  “And as far as it being a conflict of interest, it’s my damn company. I get to make the rules. I only told you to be quiet about it because I don’t want to hear any whining from my other employees.”

  He nods toward the door. “Let me show you the break room, and then Rhonda can start training you.”

  “What if I can’t learn?”

  “Well, I have faith that you can. If there’s a problem, we’ll deal with it then.”

  Can I be the whining employee? All I want to do is go home and hide under the covers. Then, I’d fix a bowl of chicken Ramen noodles and watch reality television that would make my dysfunctional existence not seem so bad.

  Instead, I say, “OK. I’ll give it a try.”

  Ellis

  “Pull over right here, Fletcher,” I say once I spot my contact from the FBI. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I scope out the area of the Washington Park Boathouse as I approach Lawson, who’s resting his elbows on the railing that overlooks Smith Lake.

  “Hi, thanks for meeting me.”

  “It’s no problem, but I’m wondering why we couldn’t handle this over the phone.”

  “It’s not government business.”

  “Shit, what now?” He rakes his hand over his black hair, which considering his career, he keeps longer than he should. I shoot him a sideways glance.

  “I’m not the only one who asks for favors.”

  He grins cockily. “Here lately, it’s only you, but what do you need?”

  “If you’d prefer, I can nullify our agreement and dig for the in
formation myself.”

  “No, you stay the hell out of our network. I don’t want to risk the agency cutting you off.”

  “I need you to check out this guy.” I pull the envelope from my blazer pocket and hand it to him. “Everything I know is in there. It should get you started.”

  “Is there something specific you’re searching for?”

  “Mainly older shit. I guess I’m looking for something from his past to confirm my suspicion that he’s a conniving dirt bag. He works for me, and I should’ve checked him out before I hired him.”

  Shoving the envelope in his suit pocket, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and proceeds to light up. We’re overdressed for a visit to the park, and I know the real person behind that suit of his. Lawson’s a badass motherfucker, who I could envision wearing a biker’s cut more than a tailored suit.

  “That’s not too difficult of a task,” he replies.

  “I need something else...”

  He chuckles. “Of course you do.”

  “That woman I had you check out a few months ago, Camilla Rose … I need you to investigate her parents for me.”

  “I see why you didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone.” He takes a drag off his cigarette. “I should’ve turned her ass in when I discovered her true identity, but I let it slide because of you.”

  “It has to stay that way, too. Actually, I want you to wipe out every piece of information that shows she’s wanted by the authorities.”

  His head whips in my direction. “Fuck, no. You’re getting greedy.”

  “There’s a critical reason I need this from you.”

  “Then you better be sharing that critical reason, but my answer’s still no. I’m not losing my whole damn career over you and some chick who broke the law.”

  “She’s the mother of my child.”

  He squints at me before taking another puff off his cigarette.

  “Damn. Why didn’t you mention that before?”

  “I just found out the kid’s mine.”

  “So, you don’t want to chance her going to prison.”