Contractual

by Alice Montalvo-Tribue

  “Are you sure we’re supposed to be here?”

  “Can you ever just do as you’re told without asking questions?” he bites back, pulling me into motion again. He walks me into the back where the exam rooms are located.

  An older man steps out of one of the rooms and gives us both a warm smile. “Jackson,” he calls, holding out his hand for him to take.

  “Peter, thanks for staying open. I really appreciate it,” Jackson says, returning the handshake.

  “No trouble,” he says, looking down at me with a question in his eyes. “Who do we have here?”

  “I’m Sage.”

  Jackson pulls me backward so that I’m leaning against him. “Sage isn’t feeling well, and I’d like to get her checked out.”

  “I’m sure it’s only a cold,” I interject, causing Jackson to shoot imaginary daggers in my direction.

  “All right, let’s take a look. Follow me.” He turns, leading me into one of the exam rooms with Jackson following right behind. If I hadn’t just witnessed his lack of respect for me, I’d think he actually cared about me.

  After a thorough examination, the doctor concludes that I have an upper respiratory infection and settles on prescribing me a course of antibiotics and cough syrup.

  Jackson wastes no time in grabbing the prescriptions from the doctor and helping me to my feet. “I’ll have Mac fill these after we get you home.”

  “I can fill it,” I declare after the doctor walks out of the room, leaving us on our own.

  “I said I’ve got it.” He helps me put my coat on then walks out of the room, leaving me no choice but to follow him. We promptly leave the building and find Mac holding the door open for us when we hit the sidewalk.

  “I can get myself home.” I’m not trying to be difficult. Really, I’m not. It’s just that this evening has been a roller coaster of emotions so far. I’ve gone from being happy to see Jackson, to feeling joy at the fact that he was worried enough about me to make sure I saw a doctor, to him hurting my feelings with his less than kind comments. Now I’m just run down and exhausted, my eyelids are heavy, and my body feels worn. All I really want to do is crawl into my bed and get as far away from Jackson as possible.

  “You’re sick, and you’re burning up with fever. I’m not letting you take a cab home.”

  “I wasn’t going to take a cab. I was going to catch the train.”

  “Even better,” he says, placing a hand on my lower back and gently shoving me into the direction of the awaiting car.

  I release a frustrated sigh. “Jackson.”

  “I’m not discussing this any further.” I roll my eyes but get in the car anyway. I cross my arms over my chest defiantly and glare at Jackson who’s now sitting next to me.

  “You know you aren’t supposed to know where I live.”

  He grins as he relaxes into his seat. “There are a lot of things I’m not supposed to know about you, baby, but I still know them.”

  “Why do you have to be so impossible?”

  “Shut up, Sage,” he says, shifting his attention to Mac. “Let’s go,” he directs before raising the partition to give us privacy.

  “Don’t you need my address?”

  “I would if I didn’t already know it, Sage.”

  “How do you know my address?” I ask, astounded.

  “I make it a point to know as much as I can about everyone I do business with.”

  There he goes again, referring to us in terms of an employer/employee relationship. I don’t understand why it bothers me quite as much as it does. It’s not like I don’t understand the parameters of our relationship. Logically, I do, but I think it helps me to do what it is expected of me when I don’t think about it. When I pretend that he’s just a man, I’m just a woman, and we are just enjoying each other’s company. To make matters worse, I’m angry at the fact that he’s obviously looked into me, which is honestly frightening. How much about me does he know? Does he know about my horrible credit, or the growing debt that led me to here? Does he know about my failed relationship with Billy or about Maddie, sweet Maddie, who I haven’t seen in so long?

  “I’m pretty sure it’s against the law to stalk people.”

  “Everything I know about you is a matter of public record, Sage.” He grins at me, obviously amused by the constant bickering between us today. “You know you’re sassy when you’re sick.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He snakes an arm around my waist and uses his strength to pull me off my seat and into a straddling position on his lap. His hands run up and down my back soothing me with every stroke. “I rather enjoy doing battle with you.”

  “You do?” I breathe, taking in the warmth emanating from his hazel eyes.

  “Yes, I do.” He smiles. “But it’s time to end the battle, don’t you think?”

  “How do we end it?” I clutch his shoulders.

  “You let me end it, baby.” I have no time to reply. Jackson bypasses the lace of my panties and plunges a finger inside of my pussy. I attempt to hide my reaction, but it’s no use, sick and all, I want this, want him to make me feel something good. I tighten my hold on him as his finger begins to move inside of me. “I love how ready you always are for me, Sage.”

  “Yes,” I breathe, shoving my face into the crook of his neck, letting his hands play me the way only he can.

  He presses his thumb down on my clit and begins circling it all the while keeping me pressed into him with his other hand.

  “We don’t have much time, Sage, and I’m not stopping until you come all over my hand.”

  “Jackson, please.”

  “We’ll be at your apartment soon. You need to hurry,” he goads, picking up the pace, intensifying the pressure on my clit. I’m so close that I can almost taste it. I can feel the familiar burn starting to build up.

  “Do you want Mac to witness this when he opens the door for us, Sage?”

  “Jackson.”

  “Hmm? Do you want the people on the street to see?”

  “Fuck,” I say, shattering into a million tiny pieces. I drown out my cries by keeping my face shoved into his neck. I shutter at the feel of Jackson’s hand clutching my hair as if he’s showing me who has the control here—and I’m fine with it. Perfectly content with giving this to him, because no one has ever made my body sing quite like he does.

  “Battle over?” he whispers into my hair.

  “Battle over,” I concede; wishing it was that easy and enjoyable to end every battle. I fix my skirt and move off his lap, settling into my seat. Moments later, we’re crossing the bridge from Manhattan into Brooklyn. The car slows and we pull up to my building. I can’t help but to feel embarrassed by it. I know that I shouldn’t be, it’s what I can afford, but I can only assume that compared to where he must live this likely seems like nothing more than a hole in the wall.

  He helps me out of the car and allows me to lead the way into my building. We hop on the dingy elevator and get off on my floor. He follows me to my door and waits for me to open. I walk inside, Jackson close on my heels. I come to an abrupt halt when I feel the bitter chill in the air.

  “What the fuck?” This comes from Jackson, and I turn to face him. “Why is it so fucking cold in here?” he questions, verbalizing what I’m already wondering myself.

  I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure. I know that I left the heat turned on when I left. It was warm this afternoon.”

  “Stay here.”

  He leaves me standing in the entryway as he looks around the apartment and comes back moments later with a scowl on his face.

  “Your pipes are frozen. Pack an overnight bag.”

  “What?” This cannot be happening. Granted, I just had a great orgasm, but I still feel like shit, and I may not be totally broke anymore but paying for a New York City hotel isn’t exactly an expense I need right now. “Where am I going to go?”

  “You’re coming home with me.”

  I shake my head, not believing wha
t he’s saying. “No, Jackson, I’m not. I’ll stay here. I have to take care of this; I need to call the landlord.”

  He runs a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. “Do. Not. Fight. Me. Sage. You can do that shit from my place. I’m not leaving you here to get even sicker so go pack a fucking bag before I do it for you.”

  I stand here, unmoving, glaring daggers at him. I know that in reality, I can’t stay here—it’s fucking freezing and I am sick—but going home with Jackson is a bad idea. Blurring those lines even more is dangerous, especially for me. It appears I haven’t moved fast enough for Jackson because he’s suddenly on the move again disappearing into my bedroom.

  “Jackson,” I call after him, having no choice but to trail behind him. “I need a bag,” he says, heading toward my tiny closet.

  “I’ll get it,” I say reaching down under my bed and pulling out a black gym bag. I move around the room, quickly grabbing a change of clothes, my cell phone charger, and a few other necessities. I make light work of stuffing everything into the bag.

  “I’m ready,” I declare, turning to face Jackson, who’s leaning against the open doorway, arms and legs crossed. I move to get my bag, and he’s there before I can make contact.

  “I’ve got it.” He picks the bag up and grabs hold of my hand pulling me out of the bedroom, and just as quickly, out of my frigid apartment

  Jackson’s apartment isn’t an apartment; it’s more like a fucking museum. I mean, technically, it’s the penthouse, but I’ve never seen anything this beautiful in my life. I’m scared to touch anything, and now I’m officially mortified at the fact that he just saw my cramped little apartment. I could easily get lost in this place; it’s that big. Deep shades of blues and grays paint the walls; it’s pretty, but still, it feels a little cold, not personal at all. As we make our way upstairs, I take in the expensive looking artwork on the walls, beautiful marble floors, and impeccable furniture, which only adds to the rich feel of the place. Its exquisite decorating could honestly be featured in a magazine.

  “Where am I sleeping?” I ask.

  “Where do you think you’re sleeping, Sage?” Sarcasm fills his tone, and I know the answer before he tells me. “With me.”

  “But I’m sick.” I say it with little fight, sparing determination because the truth is that I want to be with him, I want to share his room with him. The little fight I do have in me is fueled by the part of me that knows this is a bad idea. It’s like giving a child a toy and then taking it away, but I can’t seem to stop myself with him. If I end up a little shattered in the end, I’ll only have myself to blame.

  “Your point?”

  We reach a set of white double doors that lead into the most massive bedroom I’ve ever seen. My eyes immediately focus on the gorgeous king-size bed. I don’t believe I’ve ever slept in a bed that large before, and all I can see in my mind’s eye is snuggling up to Jackson in it.

  “If we sleep in the same bed, I’m going to get you sick.”

  “I’m a big boy, baby. I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m not your baby,” I declare, tossing my bag on the bed.

  “All right, baby.” He comes up behind me, arms wrapping around my waist. His mouth grazes my ear. “I’ll bring your medicine up when it gets here. Get some rest. I need you to feel better so that I can properly fuck you in this bed.”

  He unravels from me and walks out of the room, leaving me standing there a strange mixture of sick, hot, and bothered.

  I crawl into Jackson’s massive bed after throwing on the best pair of pajamas I could find while being rushed to pack a bag. I get lost in his massive bathroom complete with soaker tub that was just begging me to get in. I fought the urge and instead just washed my face and brushed my teeth.

  My cell phone rings just as I’m settling under the covers. I groan at the interruption because the bed feels like heaven. I reach over to the nightstand where I put my phone earlier and glance at the screen. The caller id says that the number is unavailable, so I assume it’s just another bill collector. I press the talk button, preparing to beg some random person for a payment arrangement on an outstanding bill.

  “Hello.”

  “Sage?” My body tenses up at the sound of my mother’s voice on the other end of the line. Of all the people in the world, my mother is the last person I ever expected to hear from. I tried reaching out a few times after moving to New York, but every time I called, disapproval and harsh words were all I got. After a while, I just stopped calling, and they never made an effort, so I let it be.

  “Mom? Why are you calling me? Is everything all right?”

  I hear her scoff and I swear to this day that the sound makes me want to cry. I hate the effect that she’s always had over me. She’s my mother, how could I not seek out her approval? As a child growing up, there are few things that are more important than your mother’s love, and that’s something I never had. I tried so hard to gain it, when B’s and C’s weren’t enough on my report card, I worked my ass off to make the honor roll. I tried to be the smartest, the prettiest, the best daughter I could be, but nothing was ever enough. I was never enough.

  “We haven’t heard from you in over nine months. Is that what leaving home and moving to the city with a lowlife and his bastard child does to you? Makes you forget your family?”

  “I just thought…”

  “No, that’s the problem. You don’t think. You never did.”

  “What can I do for you, Mom?” I sigh, resigned to the fact that this is as good as our relationship will ever get.

  “Your brother’s getting married in two months.”

  “Okay,” I reply, trying to speed this up. Why she’s calling to tell me about Adam’s wedding is beyond me. He and I do not get along, we never have, and after he had disowned me for dating Billy, I think we were both pretty much done with each other. I highly doubt he would care if I made it to his wedding. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that he probably wouldn’t want me there at all.

  “Your father has made it clear that he wants you here. Like it or not, Sage, you’re part of this family, and it’s your obligation to be here.”

  “You haven’t given me much notice.”

  “Why would you need more than two months’ notice?”

  “Well, there’s work. It’s not easy getting time off and there’s money. Plane tickets are expensive, Mom,” I tell her trying my hardest to get out of going anywhere near that wedding.

  She sighs, obviously aggravated with me. “Your father has said that he will pay for your plane ticket. Just you, though. Not your boyfriend or his child. They’re not invited.”

  “I don’t know, Mom.”

  “You will be there, Sage. We’ll be purchasing your ticket and emailing it to you. Your father expects you to be there. I’ll be in touch,” she says before hanging up on me

  Fantastic, that’s the last thing I need—a weekend with my dysfunctional family. I toss my phone on the bed and throw myself back on the mattress, deciding that avoiding the situation for as long as possible is exactly what I need to do. I’ll think about it when I have to and not a moment sooner.

  “Sage.”

  I hear my name called out in the distance, but I can’t open my eyes. I’m too exhausted, and my body is shivering.

  “Sage, wake up, baby.”

  “Mmm,” I moan not wanting to open my eyes. I cry out when I feel something cold hit my forehead, a wet towel maybe.

  “You’re burning up. You have to wake up and take your medicine.” It’s Jackson. I recognize his voice now pulling me out of sleep.

  “Jackson?” I call barely above a whisper.

  “I’m right here,” he says, running a hand through my hair. “Open your eyes for me, baby.” I let out a sigh, lean into his gentle touch, and force my eyes to open. “There you are.”

  “I’m freezing.”

  “I know. Let’s sit you up, get this medicine in you, and then you can go back to sleep.” He helps me
up, positioning me against a mountain of pillows, and he places another wet cloth on my forehead. “I know it doesn’t feel good, but it will help bring the fever down.”

  I watch in silence as he opens a bottle of water, dispenses my medicine, and hands it to me. He takes the bottle of water back after I’ve drunk the pills down, and he spoon feeds me a teaspoon of cough medicine.

  “You’ll feel better soon.” He removes the cloth from my forehead and helps me to lie back down. “Go back to sleep. I’ll check on you in a couple of hours.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll be in my office downstairs if you need me.”

  “Okay.”

  He makes it to the door before I take a leap of faith and call for him.

  “Jackson.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you stay with me?” I don’t know why I ask him. I hate how needy it makes me feel, but I think I’m just so tired of being alone, of being lonely. And my mother’s phone call earlier didn’t help.

  He doesn’t answer me, but he strides over to the vacant side of the bed, toes off his shoes, gets under the covers, and pulls me into his side in one fluid motion. He places a single kiss on my forehead and runs his hand through my hair.

  “Go to sleep now, sweetheart.”

  At the sound of him calling me sweetheart, my heart does a flip. God, why do I torture myself by being around a man who will never want me? It’s just something else I choose to add to the pile of things that I’ll ignore for as long as I can. Until then, I’ll keep pretending that what I feel is okay, pretending that I’m not just another woman who’s merely a means to an end for him, and hoping that I can prepare myself for the heartbreak that is surely awaiting me.

  Sage-

  I look around the room, realizing that I’m alone in bed, when a fit of coughing wakes me up. The sun shining through the windows tell me that I’ve slept all night. I reach over to the nightstand and grab the bottled water that Jackson left behind. I take a sip, hoping that it will stop the coughing. I stretch my arms over my head, loosening my stiff joints from being in bed for so long once I’ve started to feel better. I still feel sick but not nearly as run down as I felt yesterday. I throw back the covers, realizing that I’m no longer in my pajamas from the night before. I’m now wearing one of Jackson’s T-shirts, and I’m not sure how or why.