The Contract (The Contract 1)

The word was out before I could stop it. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Sleep in my room while I’m gone. Don’t worry about the laundry. You have enough to do.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “And tonight?”

“We share again.”

“I . . .”

I took her hand. “It makes sense. Saves you some work.”

A mischievous grin curled her lips. “You’re a snuggler. You like to snuggle with me!”

I scoffed. “I’m simply being practical.”

“Admit it, and I’ll sleep with you.”

I arched my eyebrow. “You want to rephrase that?”

“Oh, I—”

There it was—the flush that amused me. It bloomed on her chest and stained her cheeks. She pushed at my arm, teasing. “Admit it, and I’ll sleep in your bed while you’re gone.”

“And tonight?”

The flush deepened.

“Yes.”

I bent down, brushing my mouth across her cheek over to her ear. “I like snuggling with you. You’re all warm and you smell good.”

It was the truth. I had woken up again this morning with my body wrapped around hers. I was rested and relaxed; even if I had to deal with the after effects of her soft figure pressed to mine.

She brushed past me. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

I grinned. It was, in fact, exactly what I wanted.“What are you smiling about?” Graham asked. The trip was going well, and the client had been enthusiastic today. I had spent the afternoon adding to my outlines and ideas in preparation for another meeting in the morning. Graham insisted we go to dinner to celebrate.

I looked up from my phone and handed it to him. “Oh, I sent a massive chocolate caramel cheesecake to Penny to make up for not being there tonight. Katharine sent a picture of them enjoying it.”

He chuckled, and passed it back. “You’re very fond of Penny.”

“She reminds me of someone from my childhood.”

“A relative?”

I shifted in my chair. “No.”

He regarded me shrewdly over the rim of his glass. “You don’t like to talk about yourself. Specifically your past.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you talk to anyone about it?”

“Katharine.”

“Your catalyst. The woman who changed your life—who changed you.”

I tilted my head in acknowledgment, hoping he would take the hint and drop the subject. He was silent for a moment, then reached in and took an envelope from his pocket, sliding it across the table.

“What is this?”

He tapped the heavy cream-colored stationery. “You’ve been outstanding since you came on board, Richard. You’ve surpassed my expectations. All of our expectations. Your work on the Kenner Footwear campaign, the way you’ve pitched in and been a key part of the team. Coming on this trip last minute. All of it.”

I shrugged in unusual modesty at his praise; his words warmed me. I wondered if that was how it felt to a boy basking in the glow of his father’s pride—something I had never experienced. Graham was quick to compliment, and rarely criticized—his remarks more often teaching, as opposed to condemning. I had been amazed how fast I had slipped into my role at The Gavin Group. I enjoyed the positive energy and the entire “working with and not against” attitude they shared. His words, however, meant a great deal. My throat felt tight, and I took a sip of water to clear the thickness before speaking. “Thank you. It’s been remarkable for me, as well.”

He pushed the envelope closer. “For you.”

Inside was a sizable check—my eyes widened at the generous amount—along with the copy of my contract. What really got my attention, though, was that clause six was crossed out and initialed. I lifted my eyes to his with a questioning look. “I don’t understand.”

He grinned. “The check is your bonus for an exceptional job. Kenner signed a multiple year deal with us all because of your idea. They want you on every campaign.”

I held up the contract. “You crossed off my trial period.”

“I did. I had only put it in place to be sure I was right in my gut instinct you would fit in with us. You have more than proven yourself to be what you stated you were: a changed man. Your Katy has indeed brought forth the real Richard.” He held out his hand. “You have a place with my company for as long as you want it, Richard. I hope we have many years ahead of us.”

Reeling, I shook his hand. I had pulled it off. I had done it.

I should have been gloating, euphoric. All my plans, all the arrangements had led to this moment. I had secured my position with The Gavin Group and screwed over David.

Mission accomplished.

Yet, while I was thrilled, it wasn’t for the reasons I had thought. I found I didn’t care one way or another about David or how he felt. He could walk in, offer me a partnership and more money than I ever dreamed of, and I wouldn’t be tempted to leave. Instead, I only wanted to bask in the approval from Graham. I wanted to make him proud. I wanted to keep working for him and to hear his kind, praise-filled words. Along with those thoughts came an emotion I wasn’t used to having: guilt. Guilt for how this started and why I was sitting here now. Guilt for the deception I had used to get to this moment.