PRETTY WHEN YOU BEG

CASSY

The girl whose father died because of mine.

The girl I humiliated in front of everyone when we were sixteen.

She's holding a glass of whiskey, watching me with eyes that are empty of everything except satisfaction.

"Hello, Cassy," she says, her voice like silk over razors. "Surprise."

I can't breathe or even think. I can't process what I'm seeing.

"You…"

"Me." She takes a sip of her drink. "Did you really think I'd pay four million dollars for one night? No, sweetheart. I paid four million dollars for something much better."

She walks to a side table, picks up a folder. Tosses it at my feet.

"Read it."

With shaking hands, I open the folder.

It's a contract. Legal and binding.

TERMS OF EXCLUSIVE SERVICE AGREEMENT

My eyes scan the words, each one a nail in my coffin.

One year of exclusive service to Sienna Vale...

Subject will reside in employer's residence...

Subject will be available at all times for any purpose employer deems appropriate...

Subject will accompany employer to all requested events, meetings, and private gatherings...

Subject will submit to employer's complete authority in all matters...

Upon successful completion of one-year term: All charges against Delilah Beaumont will be dropped, record expunged, and subject will receive compensation of $500,000...

I look up at her, horror dawning on me.

"I didn't sign this."

"Actually," She pulls out another sheet. "You did, right here."

My signature from tonight. The paperwork I signed in a haze of desperation, looking only for the dollar amount.

"That's not... I didn't know..."

"Didn't read the fine print?" She tsk tsk "Careless, Cassy. But then, you always were careless with other people's lives, weren't you?"

She crouches down in front of me, still holding her drink.

"Let me make this very clear. For the next year, you belong to me. You live where I say. You do what I say. You wear what I say. You fuck who I say, which will only be me, by the way. I'm not into sharing."

My hands are shaking so badly the contract falls from my grip.

"Why?" I whisper.

"Why?" Her smile is cold. "Did you really forget, Cassy? Did you really forget what you did to me?"

And suddenly I remember.

The cafeteria. The letter. The laughter.

Did you really think someone like me would ever want to kiss someone like you?

Her father died that day.

Oh god.

"Sienna, I…"

"Save it." She stands. "I don't want your apologies or your excuses. I want exactly what I paid for."

She finishes her drink in one swallow.

"I want to watch you break. I want to see you on your knees every single day, knowing that you belong to me. I want you to feel every ounce of powerlessness that I felt. And then…"

She leans down, her face inches from mine.

"Then maybe, if you beg prettily enough, I'll let you kiss me."

She straightens, and walks to the door.

"Get dressed. My driver is waiting downstairs. He'll take you to my penthouse. Your things, what little you have will be collected and brought over tomorrow."

She opens the door.

"Welcome to your new life, Cassy."

Then she's gone.

And I'm alone on the floor of Suite 1308, wrapped in a blanket that smells like her perfume, staring at a contract that's just sold me into a year of hell.

The driver doesn't speak to me.

He's waiting at the curb when I stumble out of The Gilded Cage on legs that still don't feel like mine, wearing the clothes I came in with, jeans with a hole in the knee, a sweater that's seen better days, and sneakers that are falling apart. The same outfit I wore when I still thought I was just selling one night.

He opens the door to a black Mercedes, the interior smells like leather and wealth. It smells like Sienna.

I climbed in because that’s the only option I had.

The contract folder is still clutched in my hands. The proof that I'm the biggest idiot who ever lived, that I signed away a year of my life without reading the fine print because I was so desperate to save Delilah that I didn't think, didn't question, didn't…

Didn't matter, a voice in my head whispers. You would have signed it anyway. You didn't have a choice.

But that's not true, is it? I had a choice. I could have let Delilah face trial. Could have hoped for a miracle. Could have…

Could have watched my baby sister get fifteen years for drugs someone planted on her while I stood by helpless.

No. There was no other choice, and Sienna knew tat. She counted on that.

The city slides by outside the tinted windows. We're heading uptown, toward the part of Manhattan where buildings pierce the sky and every square foot costs more than most people make in a lifetime. The part of the city I used to live in, back when I was someone.

Back before I knew what my father really was.