The Contract (The Contract 1)

I blinked away the tears that were building. How was I going to come up with another four hundred dollars a month? I already lived from paycheck to paycheck. I knew I couldn’t ask for a raise. I would have to get a second job, which meant I would have less time to spend with Penny.

The outer door opened and David came in, his face like thunder.

“Is he in yet?”

“Yes.”

“Is he with someone?”

“No, sir.” I picked up the phone, surprised when Mr. VanRyan didn’t answer my buzz.

“Where was he?” he demanded.

“As I told you this morning, he didn’t tell me. He said it was personal, so it wasn’t my place to ask.”

He scowled at me, his beady eyes almost disappearing. “This is my company, young lady. Everything that happens here is my business. Next time you ask. Understand?”

I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t tell him to go fuck himself. Instead, I nodded, relieved when he marched past me and slammed into Mr. VanRyan’s office.

I sighed. That door was slammed so often I had to get maintenance to rehang it almost every month. A few minutes later, David slammed back out, cursing under his breath. I watched him leave, an anxious sensation building in my stomach. If he was in a bad mood, it meant Mr. VanRyan would be in a bad mood. That meant only one thing: soon he’d be yelling at me for whatever mistake he thought I’d made today.

I hung my head. I hated my life. I hated being a PA. I especially hated being a PA for Mr. VanRyan. I had never known anyone so cruel. Nothing I did was ever enough—certainly not enough to warrant a thank you or a grudging smile. In fact, I was certain he had never smiled at me the entire year I’d worked for him. I could remember the day David summoned me to his office.

“Katy,”—he looked hard at me—“as you know, Lee Stevens is leaving. I am going to reassign you to another account rep—Richard VanRyan.”

“Oh.” I had heard horror stories of Richard VanRyan and his temper, and I was nervous. He went through PAs quickly. However, reassignment was better than no job. I had finally found a place for Penny where she was happy, and I didn’t want to take her out of it.

“The pay rate is higher than what you’re making now and that of the other PAs.” He quoted me a figure that seemed enormous, but the amount meant I could give Penny her own room.

Surely, Mr. VanRyan couldn’t be that bad.

How wrong I had been. He made my life hell, and I took it—because I had no other choice.

Not yet.

My intercom buzzed, and I steadied my nerves. “Mr. VanRyan?”

“I need a coffee, Miss Elliott.”

“Anything else, sir?”

“A few moments of your time.”

I shut my eyes, wondering what was about to happen. “Right away.”Carrying his coffee, I approached his office with trepidation. I knocked, entering only when he bade me to come in. I had made that mistake once and would never do it again. His biting remarks had stung for days over that infraction.

I made sure my hand didn’t shake as I placed his coffee in front of him and readied my notebook, waiting on his instructions.

“Sit down, Miss Elliott.”

My heart began to hammer. Had he finally convinced David to let him fire me? I knew he’d been trying since the first week I worked for him. I tried to keep my breathing even. I couldn’t lose this job. I needed it.

I sat down before my legs could give out and cleared my throat. “Is there a problem, Mr. VanRyan?”

He waved his finger in the space between us. “What we discuss in this office, I trust it remains confidential?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded and reached for his mug, sipping the beverage in silence.

“I need to speak with you on a personal matter.”

I was confused. He never spoke to me about anything unless it was to shout out his demands.

“All right?”

He glanced around, looking uncharacteristically nervous. I took a moment to study him as he gathered his thoughts. He was ridiculously handsome. Well over six feet tall, his shoulders were broad, his waist trim—he was the poster child for how to make a suit look good. He was clean-shaven most of the time; although on occasion, like today, his jaw bore a day or two’s growth, which highlighted his strong profile. He kept his light brown hair short on the sides, but longer on top, and had a cowlick, causing one patch to fall over his forehead. An imperfection, which only made him more perfect. He yanked on it when he was agitated, which was how he acted at this moment. His mouth was wide, his teeth bright white, and his lips were so full I knew many women envied them. His hazel eyes lifted to mine, and he straightened his shoulders, once again in control.