Maybe she was crazy. Maybe it was some hybrid Stockholm syndrome type thing or she just felt supremely indebted to him, but the truth remained the same—she liked him, which was no doubt ludicrous and dangerous and her death waiting to happen.
Nevertheless, she had every intention of signing his contract, of becoming his for an entire year. But not until she had clarified a few things first.
A man in a green polo t-shirt stood on Juliette’s porch the next morning. He beamed a million watt smile and offered her an inclination of his head when she opened the door. A massive SUV sat on the street behind him, looking oddly in place amongst all the other SUVs and BMWs belonging to her neighbors.
“Hello Ms. Romero. I’m Ted,” he said, continuing to blind her with all those sparkly teeth. “Mr. McClary sent me to retrieve you for your lunch meeting.”
Juliette nodded. “Thank you. I’ll just grab my purse.”
Vi appeared at Juliette’s shoulder, forcing her way into the conversation. Despite being younger, she towered over Juliette by a full two inches thanks to the soft, leather boots strapped on over her tight, black leggings. The dark contrasted with the buttercup yellow dress she wore overtop, adorned by rows of silver chains and a fat, yellow bracelet. Overtop, she wore a midriff baring jacket in faded black. She looked more like she was on her way to some upscale photoshoot and not high school.
“Who’s Mr. McClary?” she demanded, squinting at Ted. “Who are you?”
“Don’t be rude.” Juliette pushed her sister back into the house. “Get your things or you’ll be late getting back to school. Lunch will be over in twenty minutes.”
“Who’s McClary?” Vi pressed, refusing to let the matter drop.
“No one that is any of your business.”
She stalked around the girl towards the kitchen. She paused in the bathroom to double check her face and the heavy weight of makeup concealing Arlo’s handiwork. It was all mostly covered, unless a person got very close and saw the faint shadowing no amount of makeup could conceal. But thankfully, Vi never bothered to pay close attention to anything that didn’t regard her, Mrs. Tompkins was nearsighted, and Killian had already seen them. It was just the rest of the world she hoped to fool.
“Is he rich?” Vi followed her, her heels cracking against hardwood. “Are you sleeping with him?”
“That is none of your business!” Juliette spun away from the mirror to confront her shadow. “And I don’t appreciate you asking me these questions.”
Pushing past her sister, she left the bathroom.
Rolling her eyes, Vi stalked into the kitchen after her and grabbed her backpack off the kitchen table.
“Whatever. He’s probably fat and hairy anyway.”
Saying nothing, Juliette got her own purse off the counter, double checked to make sure she had everything she would need, and then followed Vi to the front door.
The man was still standing there. He ushered Juliette to the SUV as Vi hurried down the block to meet up with her friends, who she refused to let anywhere near their dumpster house, which suited Juliette just fine. Normally, she wouldn’t even come home for lunch, except she had no money and thus couldn’t go out to eat like she wanted to. It was mortifying, Vi always said, because she was the only one of her friends who had to make up excuses as to why she couldn’t go out to eat like everyone else. Juliette wasn’t sure what excuse she gave, and frankly, didn’t care.
“Where are we going?” she asked Ted as he hurried ahead of her and yanked open the backdoor of the SUV for her.
“Ocean and Park,” he told her.
Ocean and Park was a high end country club that catered to celebrities, drug lords, and royalty. The pristine acreage stretched an almost unreal green far out of the city and overlooked the marina. Juliette had once had friends whose fathers had owned fancy boats and yachts and would spent entire summers sunbathing out on the lake. Ocean and Park had been too exclusive though, even for her circle of friends.
The SUV rolled to a gentle stop before a set of gleaming gold gates guarded by ivory stone walls. Ted rolled down his window and a melodious voice spoke through the intercom spearing up from the white gravel.
“Welcome to Ocean and Park, where our only priority is to help you unwind. Please state your name and client ID number for our records.”
Juliette was impressed and oddly intimidated.
“Ted Webster. I have Mr. McClary’s guest, who he is expecting.”
There was several seconds of silence where Juliette assumed Ted’s story was being validated. It must have checked out, because the voice returned.
“Thank you. Please continue and have a wonderful day.”
The gold gates swept open without a sound, revealing miles of lush, green that spanned on forever. In the distance, she could just make out the glimmer of water. Sitting regal and impressive, sat the estate with its stucco walls and enormous bay windows. The winding path cut a white gash all the way to the circular driveway and the marble fountain that bubbled and frothed in the beautiful afternoon sun. Ted pulled the SUV to a stop just beneath a wide set of stairs. A boy of nineteen hurried down them in his crisp black and gold uniform and yanked open her door. He bowed his head once without a word before hopping back to allow her to exit.
She thanked him and got another bow before he motioned her mutely upward.
Killian was waiting for her in the grand foyer when she passed over the threshold. He looked incredible in his black trousers and white dress shirt. A black blazer was pulled on over top and hung unbuttoned over a black belt. No tie, she noted and wondered if that went against the club’s dress code. If it did, she was sure he paid them enough to overlook it.
Around him, the soft whisper of jazz lingered in the delicate scent of lilacs and honeysuckle. It flowed harmoniously through the vast chamber, filling it with a calming tone that complimented the cream and gold décor. Everything looked so expensive, it made her feel very out of place. The fact that she was drawing curious attention from the few people loitering about didn’t help matters.
Her strides faltered. Her fingers tightened in the straps of her worn purse. She was suddenly so very aware of her thrift store dress with its faded colors and the lack of pedicure on the toes that were peeking out of her dollar store sandals. She wondered if it was too late to back out and wait for Killian outside, when he closed the rest of the distance and claimed all her attention.
“I don’t think I should be here,” she whispered.
“Why?”
Her gaze darted past him to a group of older women standing a few feet away in their thousand dollar dress suits and hundred dollar haircuts. They were watching her with frowns that said very clearly that they didn’t understand her audacity. Their scrutiny had her skin prickling with heat. It worked up the column of her throat to burn beneath the skin of her face, to sear behind her eyes.
She started to lower her chin, shame a bright, red flag against her cheeks. Only to be stopped by firm fingers. Her face was tilted and held tipped up to his.
“Are you ashamed of me?”
The absurdity of the question had her eyes going round. “What? No! Of course not.”
The rough pad of his thumb glided lightly along her jawline, sending a shiver through her.
“Then why does it matter what they think?”
She started to shake her head. “It doesn’t. At least not because of you.”
The tip of his thumb stopped just beneath her bottom lip. His fingers tightened their hold on her chin.
“These people,” he said slowly, “mean nothing to me. Their thoughts are as small and insignificant as they are. But if you would like to leave, we will.”
She was dying to say yes. It welled up inside her like a flood, threatening to drag her under if she didn’t. Her gaze went to the women again who, judging from their outraged expressions, had heard everything Killian had said about them and were none too pleased about being called small and insignificant. The sight of their shock and anger inexplicably tapered back her urge to flee. If anything, it only solidified her need to stay and continue to piss them off.