Insidious

by Aleatha Romig

  I swallowed. How did he know so much? That was a lot to offer. Could I truly make her dreams come true?

  Stewart continued, “And in this folder…” He touched the one on my right. “…is a nondisclosure agreement for what happened today and a check made out to you for fifty thousand dollars. I want you. I want you to be my wife; however, if you choose to walk away today, I don’t want you to be beholden to the likes of Randall and Marilyn. You deserve better than that. This money will help you, post-graduation, and you can use as much as you’d like to help your sister, your mother, whomever. The choice is yours.”

  “Fifty thousand? All I have to do is sign and I have fifty thousand dollars? The only stipulation is that I can’t tell anyone what happened here today?”

  He leaned back and nodded. “Darling, your mother’s little secret shopping issue would be nothing for you if you sign the other contract. Within reason, your access to my fortune won’t be restricted. You’ll not only live in the best of the best, vacation at the most exclusive Spas and Suites, but you’ll have whatever you desire. Fifty thousand wouldn’t even be a limit on one of your charge cards.”

  “But, why me? And what will I have to do for all of that?” My voice was gaining confidence with each question.

  “Why you? Randall. But that was only the beginning. I’ve watched you; I saw how incredible you are. I waited for you to become legal. Then today, I saw that you’re everything I imagined and more: so sexual, so responsive. I could have so much fun with you. That would be what you’d need to do: let me do what I want with that sexy body.”

  Goose bumps materialized. “What does that mean? Will you hurt me?”

  He leaned forward. “When I twisted your nipples, did it hurt?”

  I looked down and back up to his eyes. I refused to let him intimidate me with the subject of my own body. “Yes, it did.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  Blood rushed toward my cheeks. “It hurt, but then you made it feel better.”

  “And?”

  “I guess I liked it.”

  “As Mrs. Harrington, your pleasure, as well as your pain, will work together toward my pleasure. You’ll be my wife and my whore. Ms. Madison will be responsible for getting you ready for the role of my wife. She’ll teach you how to act, respond, and how to deal with some of the issues that’ll arise. I’ll assume the responsibility of teaching you about your sexual role.”

  My sexual role? What the hell? One thing at a time. “Ms. Madison?” I asked.

  “You met her when you arrived.”

  “Lisa?” I asked.

  “Well, yes, Lisa. Interesting that she gave you her first name.”

  “What if I try this and I can’t do it?”

  “Look through the documents. Everything is spelled out: what will happen if I chose to terminate the contract, what will happen if you chose to terminate it, as well as other options. You should read it all carefully before you decide.”

  I couldn’t believe I was actually considering this. “When do you need an answer?”

  “Tomorrow morning, by seven-thirty. If you choose to sign the nondisclosure statement then you have school to attend. If you choose to fulfill the contract, we have a wedding in less than a week.”

  “B-But what about my graduation?”

  “You will graduate. I’m one of the biggest donors at the academy. They will not refuse my wife’s graduation.

  I stood. “I guess I need your number so that I can call you in the morning.”

  “No.” He smirked.

  “No?”

  “You’ll be staying here tonight. During that time you can speak to Ms. Madison and ask her questions. If in the morning, you opt for leaving, Travis will drive you to class.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you. I’m not agreeing to that as part of the deliberation process.”

  Playfully, Stewart put his hands in the air. “My cock will not enter that tight little pussy until you ask for it. Until you beg for it.”

  Jerk! “Well, then that will make our arranged marriage rather easy on my part. I have no intentions of begging for anything.”

  “Really? I barely touched you today and you creamed those pretty little panties of yours. I’m confident that you’ll be begging to have my dick inside of you before we tie the knot.”

  I suddenly thought of Val and her ice cream, waiting for my return. “I-I need to call Val.”

  “Of course. She’ll be concerned; however, at this time, the nondisclosure is effectively in place, since both options include that clause.”

  I gripped the back of the chair. How was this happening? “I have to speak to her. What can I tell her?”

  Stewart grinned. “Victoria, you are truly my dream. If there is any more I can do to entice you to sign that contract, don’t be shy about a counteroffer.”

  He didn’t know the truth. All his research didn’t tell him that I wasn’t a dream: I was a nightmare. I’d been told that my whole life. Pushing those thoughts away, I replied, “That doesn’t answer my question. I don’t lie to my sister.”

  “Did you tell her about Wesley? Did you tell her about the job with the insurance company or the deposit you put on that small apartment?”

  His intimate knowledge of my personal life was starting to piss me off. “I eventually told her about Wesley. I will tell her about the apartment and job. I didn’t want to worry her right now. She still thinks I’m going to the University of Miami.”

  “So, darling, my point is that you have indeed lied to your sister.” His blonde brows lowered, and his eyes squinted. “You won’t lie to me. As you can see, I have ways of learning things.”

  “I can tell her that it was a meeting about a possible opportunity and since it was elaborate, I’m staying in the city, at a fancy hotel. She’ll be excited for me.” That wasn’t a lie. She would be. My sister could take any scenario and make it optimistic. I on the other hand was unsure if it were possible to spin this whole thing to the positive. “Now, where am I to stay?”

  “Ms. Madison will show you to a room, but know that once we’re married, you’ll share a room with me.”

  “If we are married,” I corrected.

  Another chuckle. Stewart looked down at his watch. “You have almost twelve hours to make up your mind. In less than one hour you’ve gone from it’s not happening to if. Perhaps I’ll have my begging before the night is done?”

  Smug bastard. That was one challenge I didn’t mind accepting. “Not happening.” I turned toward the door. “Where do I find Lisa?”

  LISA TOOK ME on a tour of the penthouse. It comprised the top two floors of the building—the entire floors. It was humongous. How could one man live in all that space? There were sitting rooms, as well as the large living room that I’d seen upon my arrival. There were multiple offices; apparently the smaller ones were for his employees. There was a beautiful kitchen, dining room, outside patio, and pool, as well as an exercise room. I lost count at the number of bedrooms, or more accurately, suites. The only one that mattered to me was the one I was to call my own. Although Stewart made it clear that after we wed I’d be sleeping in his room¸ for the night, I found refuge in my own space. It was all too much to process. Lisa asked me repeatedly if I wanted food. Eating was not on my short list. The more my mind churned over the proposal before me, the more my stomach twisted with confusion and doubt.

  I knew that I needed to talk with Val. Truthfully, I should’ve called my parents and asked them what the hell they were thinking. I should’ve demanded that they tell me the truth about the situation and why on earth they thought I’d come to their rescue. However, talking to either of them while managing the aftershocks of their bomb blast was not something I wanted to do. Talking to my sister was. We were so close that I worried she’d catch on to my deception. If I’d really been in a fancy hotel, I would’ve called and chatted leisurely. So, I did. I put on my façade of a sister interviewing for a job and talked with her on the phone for over an h
our. My concerns were unfounded: she spent most of the conversation talking about my graduation and the TV show we were simultaneously watching. It was one we watched every Sunday evening. Together we’d laugh about the ridiculous way the women treated one another. The situations the contestants found themselves in had seemed ludicrous. That was until I watched the reality show, lying on a big-assed bed, in a huge opulent bedroom, with a TV the size of our dorm room. Suddenly, life competed with reality television for the absurd. For a few minutes I even considered the fact that maybe I was a contestant. Maybe this whole thing was nothing more than a new reality show.

  To that point, I searched for cameras as Val and I spoke. Granted, my knowledge of hidden cameras was nonexistent; however, I was thankful that I didn’t find any.

  As soon as our call ended, I turned off the TV and attacked the manila folders. Since I had a pretty good idea what the nondisclosure agreement would say, I only opened the option B folder to confirm the existence of the fifty-thousand-dollar check. I’d only planned on glancing at it, being sure it was there, but then I saw it. Victoria Conway typed out on the payee line, $50,000 in the small box and spelled out underneath my name, Stewart Harrington’s name and information above, and his signature sprawled in the lower right corner.

  For longer than I cared to admit, I held the check and contemplated the possibilities. I may not be able to tell my mother to fuck off with only fifty thousand dollars, but I could walk away from my graduation with confidence in my future. Marilyn might need expensive shopping, but I didn’t. I could make that amount of money last a good long time.

  But at what expense?

  Was Stewart telling me the truth? Was Randall truly in that much debt? What would happen if I said no? Would I need to live with another death on my hands?

  Each moment that I held the check, my guilt lessened. After all, what had Randall or Marilyn Sound ever done for me? And fifty thousand could help Val too… but what about our half-brothers? What about Marcus and Lyle?

  With trembling fingers, I put the walk-away check back into the folder and reached for the other folder: the one with a contract for my life. The one with a contract to buy me, to make me—as Stewart had so eloquently called it—his whore. I wouldn’t let myself think of the possibilities. Hell, I couldn’t think of the possibilities. My sex life was too nonexistent. I didn’t even read the books that some of the other girls at the academy read. They’d blush and giggle as they sent screen shots of highlighted passages to one another, all the while shifting in their seats. I’d always found it hard to believe that mere words could have that much effect on someone’s libido, but then again, that was all Stewart had used. With words and proximity he’d made me wet, wetter than I’d ever been.

  Slowly, I opened the second folder. Shit! Why was I even considering this? Why didn’t I just laugh in his face earlier in the afternoon and tell him to shove it?

  My neck straightened as I fought with my answer. I didn’t really want to tell my mother and her fancy-ass husband to fuck off; I wanted her to know that I had that ability. I wanted, just once, for her to look at me like I wasn’t a horrible monster. I wanted her to look at me like she looked at Marcus and Lyle. I wanted what I’d never had. The question was how far would I be willing to go to get that?

  I stared down at the multipage document in my hand. What I knew about legalese could be summarized on a subject line of an email and still have room for more. Reading the name of the law firm at the top of the page, I knew I was in over my head. Craven and Knowles sounded not only impressive, but threatening. I began reading:

  This agreement is hereby entered into willingly and without coercion between Stewart Allen Harrington, hereinafter referred to as Mr. Harrington, and Victoria Ann Conway, hereinafter referred to as Ms. Conway. Mr. Harrington and Ms. Conway hereby agree on May—

  I shook my head in disbelief. It was dated for tomorrow. Stewart was either confident or extremely cocky. As I continued reading I began to decipher which.

  The terms of this binding agreement between Mr. Harrington and Ms. Conway are as follows:

  1. Mr. Harrington and Ms. Conway agree that all that occurs under the terms of this contract are confidential and consensual.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. I may not know much about contracts, but could he really contract my consent? Wasn’t that something that I’d need to give as each instance occurred?

  2. Specific information regarding the personal and sexual activity of Mr. Harrington and Ms. Conway may not be disclosed by either party to anyone outside of the experience. Failure to comply with this term will result in immediate breach of contract and void of all financial compensation.

  What the hell does outside of the experience mean?

  I went to the desk in the corner of the room and searched through the drawers. Finding paper and a pen, I went back to the contract and started making notes. If I were actually considering this ridiculous proposal, I wanted my questions answered.

  Two hours later, with two pages of questions, including clause numbers and addendum citations, my head spun. The knock on the bedroom door pulled me from my concentration. Bristling, I sat straight and glanced toward the sound. Somehow I’d become safe within the cocoon of the four walls. It was true: I was engrossed in the contract, clauses, and addendums that could very well define my life, but upon the plush silk sofa with a view that marveled the one in the living room, I’d found security.

  Stewart had promised that we wouldn’t have sex before I made my decision. No, he’d said not until I asked—or begged. That seemed impossible, but then again, what part of this scenario was possible? What if he were the one knocking? Did I want it to be him? Would seeing him again help me make a decision?

  I hadn’t seen anyone except Lisa since I’d left his office, over—I looked at my watch: 10:30 PM—five hours ago. The knock came again.

  “Just a moment,” I called as I made my way toward the door. Opening it only a crack, I peered around the edge.

  “Miss Conway?”

  I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Lisa, it’s you.” I opened the door wider.

  Smiling, the kind woman said, “Yes, miss. I’m about ready to go to my room for the night. However, I first wanted to be sure you were comfortable. Is there anything I can get for you?”

  “Lisa, could you please come in for a minute?”

  “Certainly.” She stepped across the threshold. Her grin widened, making her light blue eyes shine. “I see you found the clothes. I’m glad they fit.”

  I looked down at my bare feet peeking out from the end of the yoga pants and the unbelievably soft t-shirt that hung from one shoulder. It was just the kind of thing I liked to wear around the dorm room in the evening, much more comfortable than the heels and dress that my parents had instructed me to wear for my mystery meeting.

  “Yes, I found these as well as a few other things. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome. However, it wasn’t me. It was Mr. Harrington. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible.”

  I edged toward the window and gestured toward the sofa and chair. “Would you mind having a seat for a few minutes? I’ve been reading this contract for hours, and I have so many questions.” Suddenly I thought about the nondisclosure clause. Would talking to her be a violation of that clause? Would all of this have been for nothing, even if I opted for the walk-away agreement?

  The concern must have been evident. Lisa reached for my hand and using a reassuring tone said, “It’s okay. You can talk to me about it. Mr. Harrington showed me the documents. He assumed you might be more comfortable talking to me than to him.”

  “S-so… if we speak about it, it doesn’t constitute my breaking the do-not-disclose clause or agreement?”

  “No.” Lisa sat and looked at the table where I had left the contract and my notes. “I’m glad you’re taking this seriously. I was concerned that with your…”

  “My age?” I
asked, finishing her sentence.

  “Yes. I don’t mean any disrespect, my dear. It’s just that Mr. Harrington is an intense man. He didn’t make his offers lightly. This arrangement has been thoroughly researched and dissected. I was concerned, before I met you…” She added with a nod in my direction. “…that you would think it to be a flippant offer.”

  I closed my eyes. My head ached from all the deliberating. “I assure you, Lisa, I’m not a silly child. I may be only eighteen, but I’ve been making life-altering decisions for much longer than I should. I’ve not had the most stellar parental support.”

  “Given the circumstances, I presumed. How may I help you?”

  After trying to understand all the verbiage in a purely technical manner, having Lisa’s kind words and expressions brought emotion where I’d worked to keep it away. I didn’t want emotion. Even at my young age, I’d found that my head made better decisions than my heart.

  I abruptly stood from the chair near Lisa and walked to the window. With the night sky, the ocean below was dark: the only exceptions were the scatterings of lights here and there from ships, yachts, or boats. From the height of the penthouse, the expanse was enormous. I searched for the horizon: the place where the black water met the darkened sky. The moonless, starless night made the differentiation difficult.

  Keeping my eyes fixed toward the ocean, I asked, “You have used the word offer twice. Do you really see this as an offer?”

  “What else would it be?”

  I shrugged, turning back toward her and fighting the impending tears. “I guess, technically, it is an offer. But I feel like I’m agreeing to a sale, not a proposal. I mean, if I understand all that I’ve read, and I agree.” I rephrased. “If I agree, I’m in essence accepting money, housing, the repayment of my parents’ debt, and Stewart’s name in exchange for my life. M-my body… m-my future.” I lost the fight with the emotions as a few renegade tears cascaded from my still-painted eyes.