Finally, after what felt like eons, he lowered his arm. The long fingers settled on the edge of the glass, reminding her of a pianist preparing to perform.
“Is that what you choose?” he asked at last.
Juliette nodded. “But with the corrections I mentioned. I get to keep my jobs and you don’t get to tell me where to go or what to wear when we’re not together.”
“Fine.” Reaching over, he plucked up the second envelope and tucked it away inside his blazer once more. “But I have my own conditions.”
Surprised, Juliette blinked. “Okay?”
The clatter of dishes being shoved aside filled the stretch of silence as he took up the remaining envelope and emptied the papers onto the table. He withdrew a pen from the inside pocket of his blazer and turned the papers over to the blank underside.
He began to write.
Juliette watched the fluid and flawless flow of his penmanship. Every loop and curve flashed with power and authority. He didn’t stop until one whole page was filled.
He passed her the sheet.
The first half was her conditions in exact terms in which she had placed them. The second half was his.
I, The Primary, acknowledge and accept all the above terms issued by The Secondary with the condition that The Secondary allows The Primary to take the necessary precautions as listed in page twelve under term nine.
Frowning, Juliette found page twelve and skimmed over the conditions to number nine.
“The Primary has agreed that by signing The Agreement, he has taken upon himself the responsibilities of The Secondary’s wellbeing financially, mentally, emotionally, and physically. At no given time can this be altered or negotiated.” She read out loud. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m getting you a car,” he stated. “As is my right under The Agreement.”
Her frown deepened. “It says nothing about a car in The Agreement.”
Killian leaned over and pointed. “The Secondary’s wellbeing financially, mentally, emotionally, and physically.” He sat back. “I consider you getting to and from work safely a physical wellbeing.”
“That is cheating!” she snapped. “You’re manipulating the contract.”
“I am enforcing the contract,” he corrected. “Do you not agree that walking around downtown, waiting for a bus full of questionable characters in the dead of night is risky? Not to mention dangerous?”
She could think of no answer to that.
“So, case and point, it’s a safety issue and since I am responsible for your physical wellbeing, it’s my right to provide you with an alternative. It’s either a car or a driver. Which would you prefer?”
She shoved the contract back at him. “I’ve been doing this for seven years and I have never—”
“You didn’t have me then,” he reminded her. “Now that you do, I won’t take chances with that which is mine.”
She loved and hated the tingles that crackled along her skin at the quiet, guttural murmur. It elicited a shiver she just barely concealed.
“Car,” she mumbled with more than a touch of grudging reluctance. “But only because I don’t want some person catering around after me.”
“Excellent.” He took the contract back and scribbled her decision down next to the paragraph. “Okay, the next matter.”
The contract was pushed back to her. Juliette took it.
“The Primary reserves the right to occasionally attire The Secondary.” She raised her head. “What?”
“There will be times over the course of the year when I will require you to join me at certain events which will require a specific type of attire.”
“Fine,” she mumbled.
His eyebrows shot up. “No argument?”
She glowered at him. “Would it do any good? You’ll just fancy talk your way around it anyway.”
“Fancy talk?” The corner of his mouth quirked. “That’s interesting.” He pulled the contract over to him and continued writing. When he was finished, he glanced up at her with one eyebrow lifted. “Would you like to read it or will you just agree to it in case I use my fancy talk again?”
She jerked the papers away from him. “You’re a real brat, you know that?” Ignoring his snicker, she read the final line. “The Primary will not dictate the comings and goings of The Secondary unless in the event that The Secondary is placing herself in danger.” Juliette chuckled dryly and shook her head. “You are the master of words, I swear to God.”
“Do you disagree?”
She shook her head and passed the pages back. “It sounds fine, but one final thing.”
“Just one?”
She ignored that. “I want it to be made clear that I don’t want any money from you, like at all and I’m not going to sleep with you to pay off what you paid Juan.” She paused to better collect her explanation. “If I accept, it needs to be made perfectly clear that our arrangement to sleep together has nothing to do with paying you back. I’m not a prostitute. And you won’t pay me for spending time with you or whatever else you think you’re paying me for. I will however take one stipulation from the second contract where I will pay you, but more than a hundred fifty a month.”
Killian analyzed this a long moment. She could see the deep deliberation in the furrow of his brow and in the narrowness of his eyes.
“Let me get this straight, you want to pay me for sleeping with you?” he finally asked with an amused quirk of his eyebrow.
“No!” she said a bit too loudly. “No one is paying anyone to sleep with them. I’m paying off what you paid Juan for me. I’m sleeping with you because I want to.”
“You’re an odd sort of woman, do you know that?” he said at last, but reached for the contract and wrote the rest of her request along the bottom.
It was passed over to her to read over.
“Good,” she said, nudging it back.
With a satisfied nod, he lowered his hand and signed at the bottom. Then the pages and the pen were passed to her to do the same.
“I will get a copy made up for you,” he told her as he took the freshly signed contract and slipped it back into the envelope. “We can always adjust should you think of something else later.”
Juliette nodded. “Thank you.”
“Oh, before I forget.” He reached into the lapel of his blazer and removed a sleek, black card and slid it across the tablecloth towards her. “That’s for you.”
“What is it?”
She picked it up and examined what should have been painfully obvious.
“There is a limit,” he told her. “If you need more than what is on the card, just let me know—”
“Oh for the love of God!” She shoved the card back at him.
Killian sighed. “Juliette…”
She shook her head. “Did I just not finish telling you I wanted no money from you? Zero. Nada. Zip!”
“You also said I could cloth you,” he pointed out.
Anger sizzling just beneath her skin, she snatched the card from him and held it up. “How much is on here?”
It would have been amusing to see how quickly he averted his eyes and focused on tugging down the lapel of his blazer.
“Just a small amount,” he mumbled, smoothing a hand over his chest.
“How much?” she pressed.
He inhaled deeply. “Ten.”
Juliette’s eyes widened. “Dollars?”
“Grand,” he retorted with a bit of a bite.
“Jesus Christ!” She slapped the card down on the table. “Where the hell am I going to wear ten thousand dollars’ worth of clothes? No.” She shoved the card back to him. “I have already degraded myself in letting you help me with Arlo in an amount that I can’t possibly payback and I have agreed to let you get me a car. I won’t take this. I can buy my own clothes.”
He set his hand over his and gently pushed it and the card back towards her.
“Just hang on to it. If you don’t use it, fine. But I’ll feel better knowing you have it.”