I can tell she doesn’t believe me but I shake her a little. “I swear. I’m not going to fuck up this time. We won’t lose Charlie. We won’t.” And as I say the words, I’m making a solemn vow. I will do whatever it takes, no matter what.
Which means, tomorrow morning, I’ll be heading straight back into the lion’s den.
Whatever it takes.
Three
“Good morning Miss Cruise, I trust you slept well last night?”
I nod and my best pageant smile is back out and in full force. I didn’t win Little Miss Siskiyou County for nothing.
For Bryce’s part, he’s all easy-going charm. If anything, he seems amused by the front I’m putting up.
“Lovely.” He waves me forward into his office from where I’m standing by the door. “To get started, I’ve got a stack of forms from HR. Then we’ll begin going over your list of duties. Your office is beside mine.”
He gestures at a door I hadn’t realized was there before. It’s on the side wall, perpendicular to the wall of the door I entered through. With a touch of a button under his desk, the glass unfrosts and a door slides open to the side. I can see every inch of what will be my office through the now-clear glass. My eyes widen.
“I find it most convenient,” he smirks, “to have my personal assistant close by whenever I may have need of you.”
I swallow, stepping toward the door and taking in the room. Like Bryce’s office, the three internal walls are made of glass that can be clear or frosted, with the fourth a window to the outside. The offices have a spectacular view of the Bay.
With only the wall between us unfrosted, no one from the rest of the office will be able to see in. I look back at Bryce. He’s still just wearing a casual smile, like we’re friends out for a beer after work.
My chest feels tight. So… what? We’ll be, like, having sex in here while everyone else just goes about their day? How exactly will this work? I hate the not knowing.
“So what are my, um,” I stumble over my words, then blink, hating that I’m put in this awkward, bumbling position, “duties?”
I lift my chin higher. Screw him. I might have to do this, but I don’t have to lose my dignity.
His head quirks to the side. “You’re here of your own free will. Remember that, Miss Cruise. If you enter into this—” he tilts his head to the side as if searching for the right word, “—arrangement, I’m not forcing you.”
Then the easy charm dissipates and the edge from yesterday comes back into his voice. “But if you agree and sign those forms, you’ll not betray my trust. If you ever do, things will go very badly for you.”
Chills race down my spine. Not the good kind. This motherfucker’s scary. Scary like he was at the end of the ‘interview’ yesterday when his easy-going-guy façade dropped and I saw the flash of pure meanness. What the hell am I getting myself into?
But then I think of Charlie, nestled so secure in his bed last night. I think of my promise to Shannon. I think of my empty bank account. I can’t let David and his wife take Charlie from me.
“I won’t disappoint you,” I manage to say through my tight throat. “Also, um, we never discussed the actual salary for the position.”
“Didn’t we?”
“No.” I would have remembered. “Is it an hourly wage or yearly salary?”
“Yearly.”
That’s all the bastard offers, even though it’s obvious what I’m trying to get at. It feels like some kind of power play, him making me beg for every scrap.
“And what is that yearly salary?” I say, smiling with gritted teeth.
“Ah, of course.” He looks down at his desk and searches through some papers there. “Procuring employment is such a mercenary business, isn’t it?” he says in the way someone would an off-handed comment. “All about what services or part of our souls we’re willing to part with for such and such compensation.”
The words sting like a slap. Sure he just described business as a whole, but it was also basically the definition of prostitution.
“Here we are,” he holds up a paper with a broad smile on his face. He runs his finger down the page, eyes scanning back and forth. He mumbles under his breath, as if skimming the document, then announces, “Eighty-five.”
I stop breathing. Wait. Does he— “What?” I squeak out when I finally manage to gasp a breath.
“Eighty-five,” he repeats, looking over the top of the paper at me.
“Thousand?” I ask, my voice still unnaturally high. “Eighty-five thousand?”
“Yeeeeeees,” he draws out the word. “That’s what I said.” Both his eyebrows lift until he’s staring at me as if I’m especially slow. It’s not completely unfounded either. My brain is moving slow. Eighty-five thousand. Holy shit. That’s about twenty thousand more than I was really expecting. With that kind of money…
Finally my brain catches up to the moment and I shake my head to clear it.
Once it does, I don’t hesitate. “I need an advance on my first paycheck.” I keep my eyes firmly on his and manage not even to show my nerves by swallowing like I have the sudden urge to do. “Today.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Done. Direct deposit information is part of the packet. Fill out your information and the money will be wired to your account by the end of the business day. Now, I’ll give you a couple of hours to get through the forms and set up your email on your computer. You’ll also find a cellphone that I expect you to have on you at all times, so set that up as well. Then I have a meeting at eleven that I’d like you to attend and take notes for.”
“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound too surprised. So I will actually be doing real work. Thank God. I smile, and it’s the first genuine one since I’ve walked through the door. “Excellent.”
He smiles back and waves me toward the door to my office, then sits down at his desk. He turns to his computer that’s gone dark in the time he’s been away from it. He leans over, puts his eye to an eye scanner I’m just now noticing is attached to the side of his screen. Then he lays his hand on another small dark rectangular plate that lights up at his touch.
Damn, if I didn’t get it that I’m working with some top-secret high-tech shit, it’s starting to sink in. This company must deal in big stakes. I know they make drones and just got a big Department of Defense contract from what I read online, but damn.
I pull my purse up on my shoulder and head the way he gestured a moment ago.
“Oh, Callie, one last thing.”
I look over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“After you sign the non-disclosure agreement, take off your shirt. You’ll work the rest of the morning until the meeting with those fat juicy tits of yours on display. No bra either. I want to see your nipples and remember what it was like having them between my fingers.”
Then he goes back to his computer, typing in something on what looks like a password screen. Like nothing unusual just came out of his mouth.
Meanwhile I just stand there for a second, slack-jawed. He can’t be serious. What the hell? It’s only the hundredth time I’ve had that thought in the brief time I’ve spent with this guy.