The contract stipulated two months. Two months.
It all at once seemed like purgatory and not enough time. The clock was ticking. Two months? Why such an arbitrary timeline? I had to somehow fix what I’d broken in two months, and I had no idea where to start.
“For these two months you’ll be my pet. Follow me around. Sleep on my floor.” He paused long enough to shoot me a wicked smile. “Sit on my lap.”
I averted my gaze, staring at my clothed knees, wrinkly from having slept in them. I’d brought pajamas but hadn’t been given time, or a place, to change. Is this how my two months would be? My bladder ached with needing to pee.
Would I have to ask him to do that too?
I swallowed. “I won’t do any of that.”
“Not yet. I’ll have to train you, like any good pet.”
“And if I don’t?” I tested, tugging the thick fabric at my knees.
“I’m sure there’s someone who would worry about you, or…someone who you might worry about.” He let his words linger, and my eyes widened at the threat.
Uncle.
Grayson didn’t know about my relation to Woodson Hale, and I’d like to keep it that way, but Uncle cleaned Grayson’s room every day, usually in the mornings. It was already midmorning. What time did he clean today? I had to get out of this room before Uncle came to clean. I looked around, landing on a clock.
The time read ten fifty in the morning.
“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t have anyone. It’s just me.”
He arched a brow, and I wondered if I’d spoken too quickly. “Then I guess it’s you I’ll have to torture.”
I threw the papers beside me.
“This is a weird rich-people thing. We should seal it with a secret.”
It fell from my lips before I could take it back. It wasn’t like Grayson would even realize what I’d given him, the piece of myself he now held.
It was his turn to frown, or a Grayson frown—a slight pout. “What?”
“It’s something I used to do with…never mind.” My knees were starting to fall asleep, so I shifted, putting the weight on one. “You tell me a secret, I tell you a secret, and we seal our deal.”
“You want more of my fucking secrets?” he growled.
I waved my hands frantically. “No, I guess I already know yours. Technically you do know one of mine…” His jaw clenched, muscle twerking, so I added, “But I’ll tell you another. Um…I once changed Ms. Abigail’s no-fat creamer with fatty creamer when she was being particularly awful. It was better than stabbing her in her sleep.”
Silence passed, and I shifted again, trying to put less weight on my knees.
“Is this high school?” he finally asked. “Do you think I give a shit about teenage girl gossip?”
I worked my mouth to the side, thinking. I knew my deepest, darkest secret, but if I told him, it would ruin everything, ruin the lie I’d built my survival on.
I wish I’d waited. I wish…he’d let me wait. I wish he’d called me back afterward. I wish I hadn’t been so weak to wish for him to call me back.
So I searched in my heart for the only other color of ink staining it.
“I have a good one,” I said after a minute.
“Do you?”
“Yes.” I smiled, ignoring his sarcasm. “When my mom died, I wasn’t sad, I was relieved. I’ve never told anyone that because, well…” I picked at my cuticle. “I loved her,” I added. “I just wasn’t sad when she died.”
Grayson folded his arms, giving me nothing. I quickly looked away. God, what was wrong with me? Do. Not. Look. A. Crowne. In. The. Eye.