The Contract (The Contract 1)

“Married?”

“I have no idea how much time it will take to convince Graham so my cover isn’t blown. It could be two months or three. I can’t see it being more than six. If I think it’s needed, I’ll marry you at city hall and we’ll end it when we can.”

She clasped her hands, her pale face now a ghostly white. Indecision and shock etched all over her expression.

“Chances are,” I spoke in a quiet voice, “even if I don’t go to The Gavin Group, when I leave Anderson Inc., David will fire you anyway. If I do get the job there, he will for sure. He’ll be convinced you knew of my plans somehow. I know how his mind works.”

“Why can’t you get someone else?”

“I don’t know anyone else. The kind of women I usually date won’t . . . They aren’t the right fit.”

“And I am? Why?”

“You want me to be honest?”

“Yes.”

“You’re practical, sensible . . . plain. I have to admit there’s a warmth about you people seem drawn to. I don’t see it myself, but it’s obviously there. The fact you’re my assistant is the perfect cover for me leaving. I could never date you and stay at Anderson Inc. Not that I ever would under normal circumstances.”

Hurt flashed across her face, and I shrugged.

“You said to be honest.”

She didn’t respond to my statement, except to say, “I’m not sure how you expect to pull this off when you dislike me so much.”

“Katharine, do you think I like most of the people I work with—or the clients I deal with? I don’t. Most of them I can’t stand. I smile and joke, shake hands and act as though I’m interested. I’ll treat our relationship the same way. It’s business. I can do that.” I paused and lifted my chin. “Can you?”

She didn’t speak, and I kept going.

“All of this rides on you. I’ve placed a great deal of trust in you right now. You could run to David tomorrow, or even Graham, and blow this entire idea for me—but I hope you won’t. Think about the money and what it could do for you. A few months of your time, for what I’ll pay you, is more than you’ll make all year. In fact, I’ll guarantee you sixty grand. Six months. Even if we part ways after three. It has to be twice what you make in a year.”

“And all I have to do is . . .”

“. . . is act as though you love me.”

She fixed me with a look, which said everything she didn’t want to express. “Do I get this in writing?”

“Yes. We’ll both sign a confidentiality agreement. I’ll pay you twenty grand up front. You’ll get the rest at the end of each month. In addition, I’ll open an account for you to use for expenses. Clothes, any incidentals; that sort of thing. I expect you to dress the part, as well as act it.”

She studied me for a moment. “I need to think about this.”

“You can’t think long. If you agree, you need clothes for Saturday, and we need to spend some time together getting to know each other.”

“If I don’t agree?”

“I’ll tell Graham you’re ill and can’t make it. Then hope he gives me a chance to prove myself and hires me regardless.”

“And if not?”

“I’ll leave Victoria, but I don’t want to. I want to stay here, and I’m asking you to help me.”

She stood up. “I have to go.”

I rose to my feet, looking down—she barely reached my chest. “I need your answer soon.”

“I know.”

“Where are you parked?”

She blinked at me. “I don’t have a car, Mr. VanRyan. I walked here.”

“It’s too late for you to be out on your own. I’ll get Henry to call you a cab.”

“I can’t afford a cab.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I huffed. “I don’t want you walking. Can you drive? Do you know how?”

“Yes, I just can’t afford to own a car.”

“I’ll get you one. If you agree to do this arrangement, I’ll buy you a car. You can keep it. Think of it as a signing bonus.”

She bit her lip, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to think about any of this.”

“Think of it as an opportunity. A lucrative one.” I flashed a grin. “A deal with the devil, if you want.”

She only arched her eyebrow. “Good night, Mr. VanRyan.”

“Richard.”

“What?”

“If I can’t call you Miss Elliott, you can’t call me Mr. VanRyan, either. My name is Richard. You’ll have to get used to saying it.”

“Maybe I’ll call you something else entirely.”

I could imagine what she called me to herself. I could think of several names that would be appropriate.

“We’ll speak in the morning.”

With a nod, she left. I called down to Henry, telling him to get her a cab and put it on my account. I got myself a scotch and sat down on the sofa, frustrated. Earlier, when I spoke, I made the snap decision to make Miss Elliott my fiancée rather than merely my girlfriend. It made my decision to leave Anderson Inc. all that more solid. It showed I was serious and ready for real commitment—something I felt Graham would value. It didn’t matter to me one way or another—girlfriend or fiancée—but to someone like Graham, it would. Girlfriend said temporary, replaceable. Fiancée implied permanency and trust. I was certain he would react favorably to that title.