CHAPTER 3 — THE CONTRACT

By nine the next morning, my name was on a contract I never imagined I would sign.

And the man sitting across from me was supposed to become my boyfriend.

“Read it again.”

I looked up from the pages. “I already read it twice.”

“Read it again.”

“Adrian.”

“Adriana.”

I stared at him. He didn’t smile. Neither did I. The contract sat between us on his desk. Twenty three pages.

Twenty three pages explaining how I was supposed to pretend to be the girlfriend of the man who signed my paychecks.

I turned the first page. “You really had your lawyer write all this overnight?”

“Yes.”

“Does your lawyer ever sleep?”

“Not when I pay him enough.”

“That explains a lot.”

His mouth almost moved into a smile. Almost then his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Marcus.”

His lawyer.Adrian answered. “Yes.” A pause. “No. She needs to approve everything herself.”

I looked at him. That surprised me. He listened for another few seconds.

“Send the revised copy.” He ended the call.

I frowned. “Revised?”

“I asked him to remove two clauses.”

“Which ones?”

“Anything that gives me control over your personal decisions.”

I looked down at the contract. That wasn’t what I expected. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

I turned another page. The first condition stated that the arrangement would begin immediately and end after the Christmas holiday.

The second required me to attend family gatherings with him. The third covered public appearances.

The fourth dealt with confidentiality then I reached the section about my employment.

I stopped. “No.”

Adrian looked up. “What?”

“This.” I tapped the page. “It says the company can terminate my employment if this arrangement becomes a conflict of interest.”

“That clause is standard.”

“Then remove it.”

“Adriana.”

“No.” He leaned back.

I continued. “I am not risking my job because you need a temporary girlfriend.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You think I’d fire you?”

“I think contracts exist because people don’t always keep promises.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke then Adrian picked up his pen. “Fine.” He crossed out the clause.

I blinked. “That was easy.”

“I didn’t say it was impossible.”

I turned another page. “And this.”

“What now?”

“You can’t interfere with my personal life.”

“I have no interest in your personal life.”

“Good.”

“Except when it affects the arrangement.”

“Define affects.”

“If you start dating someone else during the agreement, it becomes complicated.”

I stared at him. “You said neither of us would interfere with the other’s personal life.”

“I remember.”

“Then that stays.”

His jaw tightened. “Fine.”

I added another condition. “No kissing unless absolutely necessary.”

His eyebrow rose. “Absolutely necessary?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

For the first time that morning, he smiled. It was brief but I saw it and I hated that my stomach reacted to it.

I looked back at the contract. “Next.”

He leaned forward. “You’re negotiating quite aggressively for someone who almost refused this arrangement.”

I stopped. “I almost refused because I didn’t have a choice.”

The smile disappeared. He looked at me carefully. I regretted saying it but it was true.

The photograph from last night was still saved on my phone. My parents’ house.

Someone watching. The person who knew exactly where to hurt me.

Adrian had promised he would investigate. I had no idea whether I could trust his protection.

But I needed the money and I needed my family safe. So I signed. My hand trembled slightly.

I hated that. I hated that he noticed. His eyes dropped to my fingers. “You don’t have to do this.”

I looked at him. “You already paid me.”

“No.” He pushed the signed contract away. “I mean you don’t have to be afraid.”

I swallowed. “I am not afraid.”

He didn’t argue. Somehow, that was worse. I signed the final page. The pen felt heavier than it should have.

When I put it down, I felt strange. Like I had just sold a small piece of my life.

Adrian picked up the contract.He studied my signature then he placed it inside the folder. “It’s done.”

I nodded. “It’s done.”

He stood. “So we need to prepare.”

“For what?”

“My family.”

I immediately regretted signing. An hour later, I was sitting across from Adrian with a notepad.

“Your grandmother’s name?”

“Margaret Hawthorne.”

“Age?”

“Seventy eight.”

“Favorite food?”

“Lemon cake.”

I wrote it down. “Favorite Christmas tradition?”

“She makes everyone eat breakfast together.”

“That’s sweet.”

“She also interrogates everyone.”

I laughed. “Not so sweet.”

“She considers it bonding.”

I smiled despite myself. “Who are you closest to?”

He didn’t answer immediately. I looked up. His fingers tapped once against the desk.

“My grandmother.”

The answer came quietly. “What about your parents?”

“My father and I understand each other.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

He looked at me. “My mother died when I was seventeen.”

My smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “She was the only person who could make my father apologize.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything. For once, Adrian didn’t seem to mind the silence.

Then he asked, “Your family?”

I hesitated. “My mother.”

“Father?”

“Still around.”

“You’re close?”

“It’s complicated.”

He looked at me. “That’s becoming your favorite phrase.”

“Because it’s useful.”

He almost smiled. “What does your father do?”

“Nothing now.”

“Why?”

“Health problems.”

He didn’t push. That surprised me. Instead, he asked, “What do you do when you’re not working?”

I stared at him. “Sleep.”

“You sleep?”

“When I can.”

“How often is that?”

I shrugged. “Four hours.”

His expression changed. “That’s not enough.”

“I have a job.”

“You have one job.”

I laughed. “You mean working for you?”

“You’re in the office before me.”

“Sometimes.”

“And leave after me.”

“Sometimes.”

“Your assistant reports say you answer emails at midnight.”

I looked away. “You read my assistant reports?”

“I read everything.”

Of course he did.

He picked up another file. “You’ve been covering your mother’s medical expenses.”

My chest tightened. I looked at him. “You went through my records?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“You requested an advance twice.”

I said nothing. “I approved both.”

My eyes dropped. I hadn’t known that. He watched me for a moment.

“You don’t have to hide everything.”

I swallowed. “I don’t like people knowing when I’m struggling.”

“Why?”

“Because people treat you differently.”

His voice softened. “Maybe they should.”

I looked at him. For one strange second, he didn’t look like my employer.

He looked like a man who understood something about carrying too much alone.

Then his phone buzzed. His expression changed immediately. He read the message.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Adrian.”

He locked the phone. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Where?”

“Hawthorne Estate.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

I gathered my notes. “Fine.”

He didn’t move. I waited. “What?”

His eyes remained on me. “There is something you need to know before we go.”

“What?”

“My family believes we’ve been together for several months.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“They believe I met you last summer.”

My mouth fell open. “You told them that?”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because my grandmother knows me.”

“And?”

“She would never believe I suddenly found a girlfriend two weeks before Christmas.”

I stood. “You should have mentioned this before I signed.”

“You would have signed anyway.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“I know.” I put my hands on my hips. “So now I have to remember an entire fake relationship?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Six months.”

I stared at him. “Six months?”

He nodded. “You’ll need to know where we supposedly met.”

“Okay.”

“Our first date.”

“Fine.”

“Our first kiss.”

I froze. He watched my face. “And our first fight.”

I slowly lowered my hands. “Adrian.”

“Yes?”

“How am I supposed to remember things that never happened?”

His eyes held mine. “That’s why we’re going to create them.”

I swallowed.

He stepped closer. “We have twenty four hours to build six months of memories.”

Then his phone rang again. He answered. His expression hardened. “Who?”

I watched the color leave his face.He slowly looked at me. “It’s my grandmother.”

He listened then his eyes met mine again.“She says she remembers meeting you.”

My heart stopped. “What?”

Adrian ended the call. His voice was barely above a whisper. “She says you came to the estate six months ago.”

I stared at him. “I’ve never been there.”

“I know.”

Neither of us moved then his phone buzzed again. A photograph appeared on the screen.

It showed Adrian’s grandmother standing beside a woman. A woman who looked exactly like me and beneath the photograph was one sentence:

Your girlfriend has already been to this family.