Chapter Eight

The Contract

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T HEY TRAVELED THROUGH the dark streets, a heightened quiet stretching around the inside of the Mercedes. She pressed her face to the window, anxiety bubbling in her belly. Although the tinted glass at the back of his large car gave little away about their precise location, Amy could tell they’d moved to plusher neighborhoods by the size of the houses and the fact the vast number of them were gated, detached properties. She watched the perimeters of the houses flash past, conscious of how fast her breaths had become. Kyle had never given her his address and stupidly, she’d been so thankful for the opportunity he offered, she’d never asked.

It was unlike her to be reckless. She spent most of her life being sensible, being responsible, and taking care of other people’s needs, yet this one time, she’d acted for herself. Even that wasn’t entirely true, of course. It had been her desire to pay her debts and help her son that had encouraged her to concur with Kyle’s terms, yet she’d done so rashly without truly thinking through the potential consequences.

Kyle could be anyone and once she was ensconced at his house, he had almost total control. He might do any thing to her there. She rolled her eyes, grateful he couldn’t see her expression. Who was she kidding? A guy like him was not going to be interested in a woman like her. Whatever remained of her virtue was bound to be safe.

“Relax, Amy.” His expression suggested amusement as she glanced his way.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, although she sensed she was trying to persuade herself more than him. Nervous energy twisted inside her, creating painful knots in her tummy. The hurt underpinned just how hasty her actions had been.

“Look at me, please.”

Slowly, she shifted to obey his soft command.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look at him—she still couldn’t believe how handsome he truly was. His dark hair was the perfect length, falling casually into his eyes, and demanding he swipe it away to reveal how tight his skin was stretched over his high cheekbones. Kyle was the kind of older guy she might have seen on the cover of a glossy magazine.

The truth was that at this moment, she didn’t know what to say to him. Stevens was still in earshot, and while she was sure he was a decent guy, she didn’t know him, and she didn’t want to spill any more about her life to yet another stranger.

The quiet, though, did nothing to help her as the atmosphere in the backseat grew increasingly oppressive. It was as though they both recognized how important the next couple of hours were, but neither of them wanted to say so. Suddenly, her every fidgety movement was amplified in the sleek confines of the car, and her every breath was audible as the weight of Kyle’s stare seemed to pin her in place.

“Randall, my lawyer, has sent over your contract.” Kyle broke the strained silence, flashing the screen of his phone at her. Glare from the phone pierced the shadows and forced her to look away. “He’s left a printed copy at home, which you’ll be required to sign.”

“Okay,” she squeaked, unsure how or why Kyle’s lawyer would have access to his home.

“We’ll look at that when we first arrive. It’s important to me that you agree to the terms.”

What does that mean?

Was he seriously telling her that if she quibbled a small clause, she’d be back on her own? Disquieting trepidation bubbled in her belly, taunting her irresponsibility.

This is what you get for being a trusting fool.

Her eyes closed briefly as she accepted the recrimination. A little attention from a good-looking guy and she’d rolled over like a puppy.

What would Graham think of me for agreeing to this? Her throat dried. I bet he’d be hurt and disappointed if he knew I was going home with a man I had only just met...

“I’m sure you’ll find the terms favorable.” He slid his phone away. “And as discussed, I’ll ensure you’re well remunerated.”

“Thank you.” Her gaze darted to the rear-view mirror to find Stevens’ pointed stare drilling into her.

She withered under his glare, unsure why he was sending her daggers from the driver’s seat. Perhaps he thought she was a prostitute Kyle had picked up for a good time. Her eyes narrowed as she stared the driver down. How dare he judge her! She was there to take care of Kyle’s house. The fact she found him easy on the eye was only a happy coincidence.

“Remember what else we discussed?” Kyle’s curter tone drew her attention back to him. “About how I expect my staff to refer to me.”

Hot humiliation sliced through her like a blade. Surely, he couldn’t mean for her to address him as ‘sir’ in front of Stevens? She didn’t comprehend his reasoning for such formalities, but he’d never mentioned anything about ceding to the self-imposed titles in the presence of others.

She took a moment, pulling in air as she compelled her gaze back to the window and recalled how the driver had also referred to his employer that way. Perhaps she was making a big deal out of nothing. She could suck up the indignation of calling him sir from time to time. So long as he honored the deal.

“Yes...” She consciously blocked out what she assumed would now be Stevens’ smirk. “ Sir . I’m sorry. I’m not used to using formal titles.”

Her prior part-time job had been temporary nighttime cleaning contracts in commercial buildings. She’d worked long hours for minimum wage where, often, the only people she’d seen were security guys, not the men she worked for, and she certainly didn’t have to defer to them with jumped-up titles. In the daytime, the solicitors she’d worked for had been happy for her to use their first names.

“Please get used to it.” Kyle’s voice was softer, but the gleam in his eyes was hard. “It’s part of the deal.”

“I understand, sir.”

She didn’t understand at all, but she fixed her focus on the prize at the end of the week. All she had to do was survive seven days of awkwardness and formality, then, if she wanted to, she could choose to eject with fifty thousand in her back pocket.

She could do that, couldn’t she? Seven days wasn’t so long.

No longer able to maintain the intensity of his stare, she glanced down at the dark leather as the answer pinballed in her head.

Seven days was nothing at all. Of course, she could do that.

She’d have agreed to much stricter terms to secure the funds required to pull her out of the huge pit she found herself in.

“Ah, here we are.” Kyle nodded as the car slowed, and Amy looked up in time to see the massive black iron-wrought gates of a vast property opening. “Drop us at the front, please, Stevens. I want to get Amy settled.”

“Very good, sir.” Stevens eased the Mercedes through the open gates and crawled along the vast, pebbled driveaway.

She glanced around at the large, overarching trees as they drove past, just able to make out their contorted branches in the layers of darkness.

“Take the car to the garage,” Kyle instructed Stevens when the vehicle halted.

Kyle pushed open his door and leapt into the cold air. A rush of breeze tore through the interior, startling her as he rounded the back of the car. A moment later, her door, too, was thrust open.

“Come on.” His hand approached, beckoning her toward him, and without looking back at Stevens, she accepted his palm and slid from the warm seat.

“Welcome to Brock Hall, Amy.” Squeezing her fingers gently, he led her toward the mansion he called home.

***

“W ILL I HAVE A KEY TO the property?”

She huddled in her thin jacket as Kyle unlocked the gigantic doors. The front of the house reminded her more of a fortress than a home, with huge stone columns on either side, but she repressed the nagging apprehension swirling within. Kyle was offering her an amazing chance, and she wasn’t going to allow her nerves to ruin it for her.

Turning the key in the lock, he paused and glanced back at her. “We’ll discuss those terms after the trial has ended.”

“Right.”

His reluctance to agree was perturbing. She supposed she could understand his reticence to dish out keys to her right then and there. He knew her as little as she knew him, but a reassurance that one would be provided eventually might have been good.

“Come in.” Pushing the wooden doors open, he moved aside and allowed her space to pass him, although his gaze never left her as she complied.

“Wow.” There was nothing else to say in response to the scene that met her eyes.

The space that passed for his hallway was larger than her entire apartment, the entryway lit by two enormous chandeliers with what looked like twinkling diamonds trailing from them. Strange that the lights were already on, but then she supposed he might keep the entrance lit at night, and she assumed he could afford to.

She moved across the shiny black-and-white floor tiles, her attention captured by the sizeable bookcases lining the back walls. In the middle of that opulence was a grandiose grandfather clock, ticking happily away, and beyond it, two dark wooden staircases flanked the area. A colossal golden gong sat proudly beside the left-hand stairwell, and as she dragged her attention from it, she couldn’t understand why any house would require such a domineering piece.

“You have quite the home, Mr. Kyle.”

He joined her by the enormous table in the center of the space. Hypnotized by the abundance of books, she’d managed to completely overlook the piece’s intricate craftsmanship when she’d entered, but now she noticed its fine finish and the crystal vase of enormous lilies that sat on top of its smooth surface. Evidently, someone was looking after the place if there were fresh flowers on display.

“Thank you.” He slid the key back into his jacket as her focus flitted to the front door. It was closed and had presumably been locked behind them. “I’m very fond of the place.”

“I can see why.” She wasn’t sure she’d have chosen all the dramatic aesthetics, but there was no doubt the interior had been carefully designed and decorated.

“This should be your contract.” He reached for a plastic folder on the table’s surface and flicked through the contents. “Would you mind following me to the study, please?”

He stalked off toward one of the doors, leaving her standing until she started after him. Holding the paneled door open for her, his lips curled as she dashed to take it from him. By the time she reached the threshold, he was already striding away down an internal corridor. The passageway was lit by faux candles on both sides of the dark walls, the pale illumination shimmering on his skin as he paused at the far end.

“Amy?” His eyebrow arched, the tiny gesture accelerating her pulse as she once again hurried to join him.

“I’m coming.” She arrived at the end of the passage, where Kyle was blocking her route.

“Do I have to tell you again?” Disappointment rang in his voice.

“Sir.” Amy flinched, unsure if it was embarrassment or regret inspiring the deed. She hadn’t intended to rile him. She just wasn’t used to using the term.

“Okay.” His gaze was tender as he stared down at her. “I want you to do well here, Amy. Remember that. I wouldn’t have offered you the position if I didn’t want you to succeed.”

“Thank you.” She stared up at his expectant expression, unclear if he wanted her to call him sir again. Surely, she didn’t have to use the word every time, did she?

“Come through.”

Opening the door, he flicked on the light and stepped aside, permitting her just enough room to squeeze past him into what she assumed was the study. The aroma of his aftershave goaded as she brushed by him, her gaze scanning yet another impressive room.

Dressed in yet more wood paneling, the space might have been claustrophobic but for its ample lighting and soft furnishings. Kyle clearly had a liking for crimson hues, and the carpet and curtains all aligned with the warming theme. The only exception to the theme was the black and currently unlit fireplace.

“Take a seat, Amy.”

She heard the door shut behind her, aware as he crossed the carpet to take a seat on the other side of the huge desk that dominated the space. Walking to the nearest sturdy-looking seat, also fashioned from dark wood, she slid onto its unyielding surface.

“This is yours.” Clearing a path across the desk to her, he slid the folder over. “It’s only a few pages, but please read it, and when you’re ready, sign.” He chose a fancy-looking fountain pen from his selection and pushed it toward her.

“I will, sir.” She nearly stumbled over the final word but elected to ignore any discomfort that rose with it. “Thank you.”

Kyle said nothing, but she noticed him settle back in his seat as she picked up the folder and started to read.

Contract of employment between William Kyle and Amy Kendal.

So far, so ordinary, although she still couldn’t believe how quickly his lawyer had drawn up the document. She’d wager he was paid handsomely for his time, but still... a contract in the middle of the night was no normal request.

She inhaled, cognizant of her surreal surroundings. Kyle lived in a house resembling a castle and had a host of staff at his disposal. It was a different world from any she’d ever known. Maybe that was ‘normal’ there?

Turning the page, her gaze was met with a full page of typed font.

“Would you like a drink?” He rose and wandered to the nearby decanter sitting on top of a striking dresser.

“No, thank you.”

She hardly looked up as he busied himself, determined to read his terms carefully and ensure that, whatever he asked her to do in the next seven days, her interests were protected. Everything so far had been mundane, detailing the date of the agreement and name of the position, but what she needed to know were what types of tasks he might ‘reasonably’ expect his housekeeper to perform.

“I think I will,” he went on, pouring a no-doubt pricey liquor into a similarly expensive tumbler.

“As you wish, sir.”

She turned the page with her reply, bemused at how easily the deference came to her. Maybe the hard times she’d endured had conditioned her to revere anyone with such wealth. Sitting in Kyle’s office was not the time for psychoanalysis, but she didn’t loathe calling him sir half as much as she’d assumed she would.

He stood by the dresser, sipping his drink and watching her, but she forced herself to block him out while she read his conditions. The second page had started to detail his expectations, and it was vital that she didn’t miss anything important. Her concentration trailed over each line, the tension in the room burgeoning even though no one spoke.

“Can you clarify what this line means, please?” She lifted her head to meet his stare.

“Certainly.” Kyle lowered his glass and took a step in her direction. “Read the line for me?”

“Okay.” She paused, her heart pounding faster as if she was about to portray one of Shakespeare’s finest soliloquies. “Clause seven. Mrs. Kendal will be responsible for all and any other duties Mr. Kyle deems appropriate for the duration of the contract.”

The sentence rang out in the room, the equivocal nature of the wording sounding no better than it had in her head.

Kyle nodded. “Lucky seven, eh?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

What was that glinting in his eyes? Amusement or something else she couldn’t put her finger on?

“It’s my lucky number.” He chuckled as he moved back to his side of the desk. “What’s your question?”

“Well.” She hesitated, having presumed her request for clarity would have made her ‘question’ obvious. “It’s quite vague, isn’t it, sir?” More like, it was a lot vague. “What kinds of duties might be included in this clause?”

“That depends.” He sank back onto his chair, and for the first time, Amy noticed how he enjoyed the benefit of a comfortable, reclining seat while she was forced onto the hard surface of the wooden chair.

“On what?”

“On you.” His lips twitched. “On how we get on and where your skillset lies.”

For some intangible reason, the butterflies in her belly tangled their wings at the look in his fascinating blue eyes.

“Can you give me an example, please?” She couldn’t manage the final word that time. The sense that something about the moment was pivotal intensified the nervous and excited energy abounding in her.

“Well.” He tilted his head, musing on her reasonable query. “Perhaps I’ll need you to post a parcel for me one day or arrange a dinner party another. The role will include various tasks, Amy.”

“I understand.” There didn’t seem to be anything remarkable about his requests. She could do both of those things, so long as he was prepared to let her borrow one of his fancy cars. Fleetingly, she contemplated why the wording of clause seven was so obscure. “Thank you, sir.”

Devouring the remainder of the jargon, she was satisfied that everything looked correct. He’d provide her with bed and board, plus the sum of fifty thousand if she successfully completed seven days in the role. Certain that it was the best offer she’d ever had, she collected the pen and scrawled her name on the dotted line.