The Contract (7 page)

She shook her head. “You don’t even like me.” She swallowed. “I’m not overly fond of you, either.”

I had to chuckle at her politeness. “We can work around that issue.”

“What are you proposing?”

“Simple. One way or another, I’m out of Anderson Inc. You’ll have to leave, too.”

Immediately, she began shaking her head furiously. “I can’t afford to leave, Mr. VanRyan. So my answer is no.”

I held up my hand. “Hear me out. I will pay you to do this. You will have to give up your job, as well as your apartment and come live here with me. I’ll pay you a salary plus all your expenses for however long this takes.”

“Why would I have to live here?”

“I may have indicated to Graham we live together.”

“You did
what
?”

“It made sense when he asked. I didn’t plan it—it happened. Now back to my offer.”

“What would you expect me to do?”

I tapped my fingers on the arm of the sofa, contemplating. I should have thought this through more.

“Live here, appear at any function I go to as my fiancée, present yourself as such at all times.” I shrugged. “I haven’t thought it all through yet, Miss Elliott. We’ll have to figure it out. Set some ground rules; get to know each other so we can actually pass as a couple.” I shifted forward, resting my arms on my thighs. “And this has to happen fast. I’m supposed to take you to a function this weekend.”

“This weekend?” she squeaked out.

“Yes. You don’t have to be living here by then, but we need to get our stories straight and at least know the basics. We have to seem close—comfortable with each other.”

“Maybe you should start by not calling me Miss Elliott.”

I laughed dryly. “I suppose it would seem odd . . . Katharine.”

She didn’t say anything, dropping her gaze to her lap, her fingers playing with a loose thread on her shirt.

“I’ll buy you a new wardrobe, and make sure you have spending money. You won’t want for anything if you agree to this arrangement.”

She lifted her chin. I had never noticed the stubborn little cleft in it until now. “What would you pay me?”

“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars a month. If the charade lasts longer than six months, I’ll double it.” I smirked. “If we do have to get married, I’ll pay you a bonus. When we can divorce, I’ll make sure you get a good settlement and handle all the details. You’ll be set for life.”

“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.

I yanked on my cowlick in apprehension, and downed the scotch in one swallow. I had hoped to get an answer from her right away; however, it became apparent I wasn’t going to get it. So now, Miss Elliott, the woman I disliked, and from all accounts, felt the same way about me, held my future in her hands. It was an odd feeling.

I didn’t like it.

I sank into the cushion of the sofa as my head fell back, my mind drifting. My phone beeping startled me, and I realized I’d nodded off. I picked up the phone, glancing at the two words on the screen.

I accept.

With a smirk, I tossed my phone on the table.

My plan was full steam ahead.

RICHARD

THE NEXT MORNING, WE BOTH
acted as if nothing was different. Miss Elliott brought in my coffee and bagel, carefully placing them on my desk. She went over my schedule, confirming two meetings I had outside the office.

“I won’t be back this afternoon.”

She looked puzzled, checking her notebook. “You don’t have anything in your schedule.”

“I made the appointment myself. Personal business. I’ll go straight to my two o’clock afterward. In fact, I won’t be back this afternoon. Take the time off.”

“Pardon me?”

I sighed. “Miss Elliott, can you not understand English? Take the afternoon off.”

“But . . .”

I pinned her with a glare. “Take the afternoon off.” I lowered my voice. “My place at seven, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed out.

“If you need anything—business related—text me. Otherwise, it needs to wait.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

It was common knowledge Anderson Inc. monitored emails. Not one to take chances, I had my own cellphone, to which only a select few had the number. I knew there was no point asking Miss Elliott if she had one, as money seemed limited. I planned to rectify that today, along with my other errands. I didn’t want to take the chance David had texts and calls monitored, as well.

“You can go.” I dismissed her.

She hesitated before withdrawing an envelope from her thick notepad, and placed it on the desk. She left without a word, closing the door behind her. I took a bite of my bagel, then reached for the envelope and opened it, removing the folded papers. It was a list about her. Things she thought I should know: pertinent dates, her favorite colors, music, foods, general likes and dislikes.

It was a good idea. It would save some monotonous conversation tonight. I would write up one for her, later.

I refolded the list and slid it into my jacket pocket. I’d be sitting in waiting rooms on and off all day—it would give me something to keep me busy.

Miss Elliott was punctual, arriving at seven o’clock. I opened my door, letting her enter, took her coat, and hung it up—the whole time silent. There was such stiffness, a formality to our interactions, which I knew had to change. Problem was, I didn’t know how to make it happen.

I escorted her to the counter by the kitchen and handed her a glass of wine. “I ordered Chinese.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Believe me, you don’t want me cooking. You wouldn’t survive.” I chuckled. “I’m not sure the kitchen would survive.”

“I like to cook,” she offered, a small smile curling her lips.

That was as good a place to start as any. I sat down, dragging a file toward me. “I had a contract drawn up this afternoon. You should read it.”

“Okay.”

“I made you a list, much like yours. You can go over it and we need to talk about what’s on it. Make sure we’re both comfortable with the facts.”

She nodded and took the proffered envelope.

I pushed another smaller one toward her. “Your first payment.”

She waited, her fingers not touching the innocent-looking envelope.

“Take it. It’s all documented.”

Still, she didn’t touch it.

“Miss Elliott, unless you take it, we can’t go forward.”

She looked at me, frowning.

I nudged the envelope. “It’s a job, Katharine. This is your compensation. Simple. Take it.”

Finally, she picked it up, not even looking at it.

“I want you to resign tomorrow. Effective immediately.”

“Why?”

“If this happens, and I think it will, I’ll give my notice fast. I want you out of there before the shit hits the fan.”

She worried the inside of her cheek, jittery and silent.

“What?” I snapped, getting impatient with her demeanor.

“What if it doesn’t work? Will you . . . will you give me a letter of reference? I’ll have to get another job.”

“I’ve got that covered. I spoke with some contacts, just in general, and if this doesn’t work, and I leave Victoria, I have two companies I know will offer you a job. You won’t have to worry about looking, if you don’t want. In answer to your question, though, I will give you a glowing letter of recommendation.”