by Lena Skye
“She wasn’t so senile, now was she?” Justin said. “She still made sense.”
She didn’t say anything, but she stared at Justin as he put down the bracelet and its box on the table.
He was looking at her. “You can throw it away, pawn it, but I doubt you’ll find another Mikaela within at least five miles around you. Or you can also leave it here, I don’t mind if you leave it here.”
She shook her head. He was leaving her with no choice. Of course she would take it. It was a trinket that had her name on it; it was something she wouldn’t dream of buying in years-
“No takers?” he said, ready to leave. “I didn’t think you’d be this hard to please.”
“You think you can waltz into where I work and just assume I’d say yes to a date? After you left me alone?”
“To fend for yourself? In that sad, big apartment stocked with food and every amenity women want to have?” he continued for her.
She flustered. “You want me to go on a date with you and yet you’re acting like a complete dick.”
“That was my now-dead uncle’s nickname you know,” he told her.
She stopped herself for a moment. Dick was some standard English nickname and it didn’t sound too well that she was comparing his departed uncle to a penis. “I don’t want to go through that again. I felt used. Dirty.”
“It’s only dirty if you do it right,” he joked, remembering their romp on the couch and on the bed. He wanted to smile at the memory of it. That night certainly had to have a repeat. At least he was sure of that.
She shook her head, he was hopeless. He was one of those people who lived by their looks and wealth. Well, if you’ve got it, flaunt it, right? She was torn, though. She wanted the bracelet, it had her name on it, and he was good at persuading her. It was only the memory of him leaving her all alone that prevented her from saying yes to another date.
She had issues about abandonment, which was why her previous relationships didn’t last too long. The only difference was this guy had money and he was the best looking one to ask her out, yet. She was becoming materialistic, shallow. She disliked the idea of it.
He saw that she didn’t say anything, or she didn’t want to. He nodded, taking that as a no. This was that rare moment where silence meant no. He spun around, when she heard her take a breath. She was about to say something. That act of kindness hit through her, just the way he wanted it to.
“I’ll go on that date,” she began, as his back was still turned.
He didn’t face her yet. He knew she was going to say something else, make some terms about it, if her flustered mind was quick enough to come up with something.
“I’ll go on that date, but you won’t leave me like that anymore.”
He turned to face her. “I don’t think we’re canoodling anytime soon after that. You’re not the only one that’s got a lot in the head.”
There was a part of her that was disappointed. She had enjoyed that night immensely. She hadn’t been laid in so long. She’d never had anyone like that. He was unquenchable. She took a breath, determined to keep those lustful thoughts away.
She nodded. “Fine. My shift ends at four. You can pick me up at my place. Don’t bring an expensive car. And don’t dress too fancy. I don’t have much nice clothing.”
He nodded. “That is taken into consideration. I will see you at five-thirty.”
She nodded and watched him leave but before he did, he eyes her. “Are you going to take that bracelet or should I throw it away myself?”
Her hands slowly inched for the box and she took it, clutching the box tightly. He gave a small smile. “I’ll see you,” he said before he left.
She watched him leave. There was a Mercedes Benz waiting a few meters ahead at the curb and he got in the back seat. He had a chauffeur; of course he would have a chauffeur. Lynne wasn’t joking when she said that he was rich, like filthy rich. She waited for the car to leave before going back inside.
Mary Ann was looking at her, expectant. “So you asked me to cover for you for five minutes and it became ten? That wait had better be worth it.”
“I said yes to dinner.”
Mary Ann nodded. “Good. It was totally worth it then.”
Totally worth it. Which part? That she had landed a billionaire that was completely interested in her or at least pretending to be? Or that she suddenly wanted to be physically worth the effort? She wanted to dress nice, but not too nice, in case he thought she was trying hard. She had nothing tastefully expensive to wear. All she had were plain clothes, great for everyday wear but not for a date. She felt a bit of panic. What was she going to wear? How would she approach this date? This was a chance that she could get to know him and a chance that he could get to know her, aside from being a complete potty mouth.
She decided not to tell Lynne yet. Maybe after the date. Maybe. Depending on how it went. She hoped it would go well. This was a real date and she was frankly getting too excited for a date when the day still had eleven more hours to go.
Chapter5
The contract was tucked away safely in his penthouse. He had dropped it there first, before driving over to her place in the most ordinary car he had in his garage. It was his BMW Series 7, a glossy black sedan that would blend in fine. He had figured he could take her to a casual dining spot, Marmalade Café. He hadn’t eaten there, but he figured it was casual enough.
She was ready by the time he was at the bottom of the steps. He received a text from her just as he was about to ring for her doorbell.
I’ll be down in a bit. He read the message.
I want to see your place, he texted her back.
She didn’t reply, but instead he found her in front of him in three minutes. She still wore jeans, which was a shame since he liked looking at her flawless and well-proportioned legs. She had on a plain and pale yellow tank top which suited her fine, and plain sandals with bare toenails. That screamed she was low maintenance, which was good.
“I told you I wanted to see your place.”
“What for?” she said. “So you can check out to see how tiny my place is compared to your bathtub?”
“Harsh. I just want to see where you live.”
“It’s this building.”
“I would like to see where you live,” he said firmly.
She sighed and opened the door to the apartments once more. “This way.”
He followed her up four flights of narrow stairs. The building was old, but it was maintained to the best of the landlord’s abilities, from what he could see. The tenants were quiet, which was a good thing, too.
“How long have you been staying here?”
“Three years this May.”
“How much do you pay monthly?” he asked.
She looked at him strangely. “Why are you so curious?”
“How much?” he asked again, undeterred by her stare.
“Sixteen hundred a month, including utilities.”
“Not bad for a place like this. Pretty near to where you work, too.”
She didn’t say anything. “Are you sure you want to see where I live?”
“And make breakfast and sleep and be lazy? Sure.”
She shook her head and took the key out, and it jangled with her other keys. “Oh boy, you’re not gonna like this.”
“Try me.”
She opened her door wide with lack of enthusiasm and Justin stood there for a moment with the sunlight filtering in from the window. He eyed the small apartment. His sisters’ playroom for their dolls had been bigger in England. But it was a quaint apartment, and he hadn’t expected her to be that neat. She even had a small flower pot by the windowsill.
He saw a poster in a frame, a vintage poster of My Fair Lady. He wondered why she kept that poster. It didn’t quite suit her…
“You like old movies?”
She nodded. “I keep what I can. I replace the posters when I’m bored. Right now it’s Audrey Hepburn. I think she’s really pretty.”
“So do I,” he said. Then he realized why the poster mirrored Mikaela. “Eliza Doolittle is like you, she curses a lot.”
She bit her lower lip. “Didn’t know you were that offended.”
“I just don’t curse,” he said mildly, walking around her the small space.
She had thought it was fine for two people, but now that he was here, towering over her, she realized her place was indeed small. She felt even more conscious about her living arrangements. It seemed like he was judging her decoration choices and her color schemes.
His eyes scanned the twenty-three or was it twenty-four square meter apartment and its contents. Obviously thrifted, some repaired, some bought on sale. Her loveseat had frayed corners, but she cleaned it well enough. Her dining table had two mismatched seats which added a certain likeable peculiarity to it. Her kitchen was tiny, with stains that were difficult to remove. He saw her single bed, partially hidden by a Chinese screen divider with its pale blue cotton sheets. Her closet was across it, a two-door closet that paled in comparison to his filing cabinets at the office.
He noticed she had no pictures of her family. Perhaps she had been too traumatized by it. He had expected to see pictures, better ones than from what the investigator had given him. She didn’t even display her awards or honor roll certificates.
She looked at him, wondering if he was turned off by it. She was ready for his onslaught of coldness, for his criticisms.
“It’s quaint, your place,” he finally said. “Shall we go for dinner?”
She nodded, feeling strange about the whole thing. Here he was, asking her out on a dinner date, but before that dinner date, he had asked her to let him see where she lived. And he said it was quaint? It sounded so British. Quaint. It felt like a cross between cute and bearable.
“Where are we having dinner?” she asked later on as they began to drive away from the street.
“Somewhere you’ll think is casual.”
She hoped he didn’t go through that effort to search for those cheap restaurants in an effort to be casual enough. Wait, effort was good, at least that was a mark of sincerity. Wasn’t it? She wondered where he was taking her. Burgers sounded like a good idea, coupled with large fries and maybe a milk shake for good measure. That wasn’t good for cellulite, nor was it a good meal to look all pretty in front of him.
They drove up to Marmalade Café. She had only eaten here once before, when Lynne had gotten promoted and she had thoroughly enjoyed it. She looked at him in awe.
“You know about this place?” she asked in disbelief.
He shrugged. “It’s not like it’s a secret.”
“But this is you. You eat in expensive places.”
“I bought coffee from Uncommon Grounds,” he reminded her. “That doesn’t scream five-star now, does it?”
“Our coffee is five-star quality.”
“Price wise, it isn’t, and I liked it all the same. Wow, you middle class people judge us right away and try to make us feel bad,” he remarked.
She looked offended but decided to ignore it. She did sound like she judged him.
He decided to change the topic. The more he was agreeable, the more she would agree to what he had in mind. “You’re not wearing the bracelet.”
She looked at her wrist. She had tried it on earlier while dressing up, but she thought she was going to look tacky and overeager to wear it on their first dinner together. Mikaela wanted to tell herself she was putting too much hope into this date, that there was still some part of her that screamed to warn her that he was a jerk. Still, there was this tiny spark of hope left for it to turn out all right.
“I didn’t want to lose it,” she replied.
They took a seat and she scanned the menu. Well, at least the prices hadn’t skyrocketed. She could afford to eat here at least once a month, based on her budget.
“Order whatever you want,” he told her. “No more wine here, though.”
She smiled at him and he wondered if she would still smile the same way once he showed her his proposal. Matters like those needed to have proper documentation…
She ordered the lobster and shrimp linguine, while he had some Baja Ciopinno, an interesting mix of seafood in a rich tomato broth. They ate in silence, with the occasional question here and there, and Mikaela felt discomfort because she knew he was looking at her intently.
“You know, I’m eating.”
“So am I.”
“Well,” she began, “it’s awkward when someone looks at me while I’m eating.”
“You’re not used to it. How can you be not used to people looking at you? It’s like you don’t have family in the least that annoys you during dinner.”
She stopped halfway.
“Did I say something inappropriate?” he asked, his dark eyes staring into her light brown ones.
She slowly shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“I said something,” he insisted.
She shook her head again.
“Tell me about it so I can apologize for whatever mean things I may have mentioned.”
Him, apologize? Please. She shook her head for the third time. She looked into his eyes and took a deep breath. “Well, my family’s gone.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he quickly said, with a trace of indifference.
She felt more annoyed by his indifference than by what he had said moments ago. “It’s nothing,” she said, playing along.
He saw that she had finished her meal. “Would you like some dessert?”
She shook her head. “I’m good.”
“What do you want to do next?”
She stared at him, suddenly imagining ripping his clothes off, just so she could hear him moan her name like he did that night… She shrugged. “Go home, I guess. Got work tomorrow.”
“How’s about a nightcap at my place?” he suggested.
“You said no more alcohol.”
“Here,” he corrected.
She sighed. “Fine. Only one glass. Are you bringing me to your harem place again?”
He scoffed at her. “I happen to like that penthouse.”
“Then why don’t you sleep there?”
“I sleep somewhere else, depending on work,” he told her smoothly.
“Right, that’s where you usually take the women you sleep with to.”
“Like I said, we’re not sleeping together tonight.” Not until we’ve made arrangements.
She didn’t say anything as he drove along the coast, taking a more scenic route to his penthouse. He didn’t disturb her, so she’d feel less suspicious. Besides, he liked silence too. It was a welcome respite from work.
Mikaela saw the building come closer. It was here that she had made love to him, or maybe in his thoughts had a good bang. Well, you’re not making love to someone you don’t love, she reasoned. His penthouse was the same as she had left it, except this time, there were fresh flowers in the foyer. Finally, some semblance of warmth, right?
He quickly lit the fireplace with the terrace doors wide open for a cool night breeze. She sat down on a comfortable couch, facing the city view and a faint outline of the shoreline. He brought over two glasses and a chilled bottle of wine.
“I really don’t want to drink,” she sighed.
“I don’t want you to, actually. I’m just being hospitable. Besides, I’d like you sober for a decision.”
“What decision?” her head snapped up.
He smiled and opened the bottle of wine, pouring some for himself. “I have a proposal.”
“Spill it.”
“I want you to read it.”
Was he for real? Read what? Then he handed her a folder. She didn’t like the sound of this at all. She opened the folder and read a few sentences.
Sexual Consent Form
Right of Privacy Agreement
I _______________________ hereby declare under penalty of perjury that I am over 18 years old. I further declare that this agreement is of my own free will and that
neither I nor anyone near or dear to me has been threatened with harm or embarrassment. Both parties agree that this is a private agreement not to be disclosed to third parties except…
She looked up. “Are you shitting me?”
He shook his head. “Of course not. This is for both our safety. Which is why I needed you sober.”
“This is your idea of a nightcap?” Her face heated up. And here she had thought it was going to be a romantic end to the night, even if she didn’t want it to end so soon.
“Don’t dismiss it right away. Read it, it isn’t much. I’m not into BDSM or anything close to that.”
She was furious. “You actually think I’m a damned hooker or something, huh?”
“The something part is vague. Can you specify? Joking aside, I think it’s worth reading. You’ll find it’s beneficial.”
“Like I’m your sex slave?” She was flabbergasted, but she read on, wondering what other bullshit he had put here.
{Name}, known as “First Party,” agrees to enter into this contract with {Name}, known as “Second Party” on {date}.
Terms of Agreement
a. This agreement is defined as a physical arrangement to engage freely in uncommitted sex upon the needs and wants of First Party.
She raced through the two-page contract, her eyes widening with every provision there was.
Full discretion must be maintained.
Because who would want to tell the world they were in an exclusive sexual contract, right? She looked at him with wide eyes and he nodded, prodding her to continue reading.
First Party agrees to pay for Second Party expenses, including, but not limited to: lodging, shopping expenses, and travel.
“You’re really going too far here,” she said.
“I think it’s an excellent win-win situation,” he began, standing in front of her with a glass of red in one hand. “We’re free of STDs, your life will be significantly easier with my financial help—”
“So you can treat me like a goddamned sex slave.”
“Cursing is also in the provision and I’m against it,” he told her.
She scanned the contract again. Sure enough, she missed it, even if there was no fine print.
