Under Cupid's Contract (Love Under Lockdown)

“Do you think you’ll get to meet him?”

“I doubt it,” I said, my hopes deflating a little, “I mean, I’m just a lowly newbie.”

“I dunno. You’re pretty sexy, hon. He might want to whisk you away.”

“That’s crazy talk,” I denied, a distinct heat raising in my cheeks as I laughed, “I work remote, he’ll never even see me.

“You sent in your picture with your application, didn’t you?

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Just saying, don’t count anything out. I never do.

Wasn’t that the truth. Still, I couldn’t really criticize, Maya always seemed to land on her feet.

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

“See that you do.

A note alert came up out of nowhere. The little alert popping up in the lower corner of the phone screen.

“Duty calls?” Maya asked.

“So it would seem.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she said with a giggle before hanging up

Sound advice indeed. Switching gears to a more professional setting, I joined in the Slack group chat. Even though I didn’t actually remember joining it. It was all something of a giddy blur. Everything I did after receiving the acceptance was kind of lost to me, except by way of evidence after the fact.

The Slack group was all women. Not the oddest thing, but something I took notice of. Another similarity I’d picked up on was that they had all been there for at least two years. I was a bit surprised I was accepted into the group, being the new girl and all.

As good as my English had gotten over the years, parts of the conversation were lost on me. Opening another window, I tried to keep up as things went by, translating any words I didn’t understand. Slowly, things became clear.

The heat returned to my cheeks, joined by another heat considerably further down. My embarrassment collided with a deep desire. From what I now understood, Hugo Boucher wasn’t quite as reclusive as some people believed.

Every year, he brought a single female employee to his vineyard to work on a ‘special project.’

Even if I hadn’t read between the lines, the gossip from the others in the group made things clear, and I couldn’t help but feel an immediate stab of envy. They’d not only gotten to meet my idol, but they’d gotten to live my fantasy.

They’d gotten to sleep with him.

I didn’t honestly think I was even in the running, not least because I was so new, and it was deeply disappointing to think about. But after all, why would he pick me?

Chapter Four - Hugo

Everything was set. The table as well as otherwise. I liked everything to be just so. I didn’t think of it as being fussy, so much as organized. The ease flowed in my life, an argument in favor of the approach.

There were still problems. As there were in every existence. At least I had the comfort of knowing I hadn’t created any of them for myself. The psychological set would, no doubt, have some fascinating theories on the roots of my need for order and control. Though the truth was much more boring and sad. Not the sort of thing that papers tend to get written about.

The great room was on the small side, compared to other examples. Mostly named so in relation to the other rooms in the house. Sizable in its own right, built in an 18th century French vineyard style, it fell just short of a palace. Still more than enough for my needs, even with the in-house staff. Most of whom knew enough to keep out of the way. I’d honestly lost track of how many there were. I remembered there being ten, though it was anyone’s guess whether that was still accurate.

The pattern on the rug pointed the way as I made my way down from my quarters. Winding down the levels, which seemed longer until they usually did, until I eventually touched down on the solid floor of the ground level. The plush, Persian carpeting gave way to smooth stone floors, the occasional rug still making an appearance here and there, mostly for show.

Not that I particularly had anyone to impress. Other than the live-in staff, there were maybe forty people who had ever been to the vineyard. And the majority of them were kept under the strictest secrecy.

It was a joyful day. The enthusiasm barely contained within me. Were it not likely to be considered a crime against humanity, I would have burst out in song. While painting and writing came easily to me, music definitely did not.

The clocks had timed tortuously, counting down the teasing minutes until her arrival. I looked forward to meeting her face to face, and not only so we could get started. I’d been through so much conjecture. So many scenarios of how things might go. I wanted to know if any of them were correct. Or if the universe had something else entirely in mind for us.