JESSA
The tears running down my cheeks sting. The man in front of me doesn’t give a shit, though.
Why the hell does he have to look so good while he hurts me? His dark hair is short and thick. His gray eyes are eerily calm as he watches me with a removed expression.
“Did I hurt you, Jessa?” he rumbles.
His voice is deep, but this is the first time I’ve heard him sound gentle. He’s speaking softly, like I’m fragile. And it should make me feel better, because after everything I’ve been through, who could blame me for being close to my breaking point? But it just makes me feel pathetic.
“You don’t have the power to hurt me,” I snap. But my own tears have already betrayed that lie.
“I expected a biting retort,” he admits. “I didn’t expect you to take it to heart.”
“Why would you say something just to get a rise out of me?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I like the drama as much as you do.”
I almost smile, but I manage to stifle it. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to avoid drama. I don’t want any part of this.”
“And yet here we are.”
“I’ll sign your damned contract,” I tell him. “And after it’s done, do you promise me you’ll leave me alone?”
His answer doesn’t come immediately, but it is confident when it does. “Yes.”
“And I won’t see you ever again?”
“You will not.”
I nod. “And I’ll be employable in the city?”
“Any restaurant owner in the city will throw themselves at your feet and beg for you to work there.”
I sigh. “Let me see the contract.”
He pulls it out of his jacket pocket, unfolds it, and hands it over. I rake my eyes over the words, but with Anton watching me and my heart thrumming in my chest, I barely process what they’re saying. Still, I know better than to ask for more time to look it over. It doesn’t really matter anyway. This whole contract might as well be a Post-It note in Anton’s handwriting that says, I MAKE THE RULES.
So I grab a pen from the kitchen counter and scribble my name at the bottom. “I have one request, though.”
“Which is?”
“I’m not willing to be your prisoner. I will come and work for you for the next three months, but I want to stay in my apartment. I’ll commute from here to your place every day.”
“You’re looking at a long commute,” he says.
“I’ll wake up early.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
I hand the contract back to him. “Are you really a man of your word, Anton?”
“When it matters.”
“That’s not that reassuring, believe it or not. But I suppose I can’t expect much from you.”
He smiles, completely unfazed by my shade. “That might change soon enough.”
“I want my life back. You may have been right before—maybe I do crave drama to a certain extent. Maybe I do chase excitement. But thanks to you, I want to do everything in my power to change that now.”