5. Just Another Part

Jane

"Everything will be spelled out in a contract," Max answers calmly. "But you'd have to be seen together—go on dates, work events, trips. Basically, on the outside, you'd have to appear like a married couple."

I narrow my eyes. "What about on the inside?"

Colton shakes his head slightly. "Nothing beyond public appearances will be asked of you, Jane. It's not that kind of deal. I don't really want a wife. I just need someone to play the part so that the outside world—including potential investors—believe it."

"Why two years?"

"We need to make this believable," Max says. "You'll have to date for some time, then announce your engagement. Then, you'll get married and live together as husband and wife for a while before we can call it off without arousing suspicion."

"Live together?" Right, I forgot they mentioned it was a live-in part. Not that I love my crappy studio apartment, but I like my solitude. Reminders of my previous life, when I was never alone, flash through my mind, sending chills down my spine.

"Of course," Max replies. "How would anyone believe that you are engaged, and especially married, if you don't live together?"

"My house is fairly big," Colton says. "You'll have your own wing, and you won't see me a lot there. I spend most of my time at work."

I lift my hands in exasperation. "What will I do in your house all day, then? Clean?"

"Oh, no." Colton chuckles, and the sound immediately soothes me. "Nothing like that. I have a full-time housekeeper. You'll only have to act the part in public, which means you also won't be able to date or be seen with other men in intimate settings."

I bite my lip, taking this all in. "Okay." It's not like I'm dating right now anyway.

"Okay, as in you're on board?" Colton arches his eyebrows. There's a glint of wonder in his eyes, but also something else. Maybe hope? Why can't this guy manage to find himself a real wife?

"There will be a contract in place?" I press.

"Yes. And a one-month trial period. If, at any time during that period, you or I want to nullify the contract, we can."

"And I'd still get some of the money?" I don't want to sound too gold-diggery, but this is a job after all, and compensation is a big part of why I'm even considering this.

"Yes. You'd get a prorated amount."

A quick calculation tells me that a week is worth over nine thousand dollars, which would be enough to cover four months of rent. I could even throw in some groceries.

"Okay. I'll do it." I've already been rocking this part for five years, after all. Adding a rich husband to the mix doesn't scare me.

Colton's lips tighten into a brusque smile, and Max springs to his feet. "Great. We'll get a contract drafted right away."

"When exactly will we sign the contract? And when will I get my first check?"

"All your expenses will be paid once you enter the contract," Max says. "Everything will be stated there. But basically, you won't have to pay for anything for two years. You will then receive the agreed-upon payment at the end of the contract."

"Oh," I say, my cheeks burning. "Well, when will the job start?" In other words, how long will I be living behind a dumpster?

"Our lawyers should have a contract ready in a few days."

"What's the matter, Jane?" Colton asks.

I don't want to confess my situation. Mostly because I don't want their pity. Unfortunately, as I'm beginning to discover, Colton Green is not someone you say no to.

"I have, um, a small budget emergency, and I need some cash right away. I know that's not how it works. I'm sorry. I should find another—"

"How much do you need?"

I stare back in shock. "What—no."

"I can give you an advance," he says, and Max leans over to whisper something I can't hear. Probably telling him to shut up and not give handouts to a girl who hasn't even signed a contract yet.

Laying his hands on the table, he tilts his body toward me. "Jane. How much?"

"Three thousand. Just to cover rent and some other bills. I just received a three-day notice, and—"

"Done. Max," he rumbles, turning to his companion. "Can you get Jane some cash?"

"Colton, can I talk to you first?" Max asks through a forced smile.

"Not necessary. Make sure Jane gets the money she needs by day's end." His tone has dropped twenty degrees, leaving no room for argument.

Max nods. "Certainly. I'll get that delivered to your address later tonight."

"Thank you," I mumble to Colton.

"Of course. This is an advance on what you'll earn, so it'll be deducted from that."

"Yes, naturally." My chest feels lighter. "Thanks again. I really appreciate it."

"We'll be in touch soon," he says, offering his hand. As I shake it again, a wave of warmth consumes me. Everything about his demeanor is cold, but whenever we touch, it's like I just entered a furnace.

By ten o'clock, a messenger has already delivered an envelope stuffed with cash to my door. Six thousand dollars exactly. Double the amount I requested. Inside the envelope, I find a note.

"In case you need more. Colton."

Simple and frosty, just like the man who stood in front of me only hours ago, but also . . . nice? That doesn't fit the character I met earlier. Maybe he's not that bad after all.

Okay, maybe marrying him won't be such a big deal. First, it's a great opportunity for me. I'll be moving into a mansion—I don't care that Colton called it a house. If it has wings, it's a mansion. I'll have all my expenses covered for two years, meet major players from the industry, and score a nice paycheck at the end of the gig. When I really stop to think about it, I just won the lottery. And even if all this dredges up a shadow of fear, given my past, I know I'll be protected by the contract. History will not repeat itself. I will not be someone's prisoner ever again. In fact, I consider this the first step toward my freedom.

With the money in hand, I rush down to Mr. Barnier's apartment and give him back his three-day notice sheet as well as last month's rent, a satisfying smile stretched across my face. He barely acknowledges my presence and slams the door in my face, but it's still a personal victory.

Grabbing my jacket from the back of my couch, I shrug it on and march out of my apartment. This extra money means I can go to the grocery store and make myself some dinner.

After walking a few blocks, I hear a high-pitched shrieking, the unsettling sound making me stop in my tracks. I glance around, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. Neon signs are flashing against the dark, smog-cloaked sky, a few homeless men are rifling through the trash cans lining the street, and a group of friends are joking around. No one else seems to hear the sound, but there it goes again. It's pitiful, almost pleading. I follow the shrieks to a side alley where containers are stacked. Approaching slowly, I prick my ears to track the source of the sound. Then, I hear it again, stronger this time.

Opening a large garbage container, I discover, at the bottom, a tiny kitten trying to jump its way out. I can't make out its color in the darkness, but its eyes are wide open and begging for help.

I try to grab it and can't quite reach. The container is too tall. Jumping, I catch the edge of the container and press my belly against it. I teeter forward to reach for the tiny creature, but I almost fall in because—you know—gravity. Steadying myself, I find my balance and reach for the kitten again. As if understanding my intent, it jumps the moment my hand stretches toward him. This time, I'm able to catch it and carefully lower myself back to my feet.

The poor thing is all skin and bones, and it starts meowing at the top of its lungs. "Oh my," I murmur, pressing the kitten against my chest. Beneath the streetlights, I get a better look. It's mid-length fur displays the most unusual coat of three colors—white, brown, and black. "What happened to you, buddy? You're so tiny."

It just stares back at me and then starts purring against my chest. Tears prick the corners of my eyes. How could anyone throw this poor baby away? How could anyone abandon someone, period? I've been asking myself that question for ages.

I guess I have a cat now.