Chapter 6

After sitting down, silence filled the room while Alan kept staring at me, looking unusually tense.

He laced his fingers together before he finally spoke. "I'm going to be straightforward with you," he began. "I have boundaries. Firm ones. You will soon get a full rundown of how things work around here. If it feels like too much, you're free to walk away right now. No hard feelings. But if you're still in after hearing everything, I'll take you to meet my family."

I nodded slowly, pretending the whole conversation wasn’t making me nervous.

"You'll have your own room." He reached into his jacket, pulled out a black card, and placed it on the table between us. "This is yours. It'll be loaded with more than enough to cover whatever you need. Clothing, personal expenses, anything. If you ever feel it isn't enough, ask me directly and I'll handle it. Same goes for anything else you need from me. Don't sit on it. Just ask."

Something about the black card sitting there on the table made the whole arrangement feel startlingly real.

"And when it ends, you'll be compensated. Generously."

Before I could say anything, he called out, “Peggy.”

The woman who warned me about touching the picture appeared not long after, like she had been expecting him to call for her.

"Walk her through the house rules," Alan instructed.

"Yes, sir."

He looked at me once more, then stood. "I'll be in my study when you're done."

My eyes followed him until he disappeared upstairs.

Then I turned to Peggy. “Okay… let’s hear the rules.”

“The couch you’re sitting on is out of bounds.”

Confusion crossed my face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“That couch,” she repeated carefully. “Mr. Reed doesn’t allow anyone to sit there.”

“Wow,” I muttered under my breath, pushing to my feet. “This is serious.”

Suddenly, I understood why he had been staring at me like that when I sat on the couch earlier.

"The piano is not to be used." Peggy's eyes moved toward it. "The pictures throughout the house are not to be touched. In fact, as a general rule, please don't touch or rearrange anything that isn't yours."

She led me to the kitchen next.

The place was huge and looked nothing like the kitchens I was used to seeing. Everything looked expensive, untouched, and too perfect to cook in.

On a normal day, I probably would have admired it properly. Instead, my mind was still stuck on the fact that this house had forbidden couches.

Peggy moved through the kitchen methodically, pointing out which pots were not to be used, which surfaces were strictly off-limits, and what I could and couldn't help myself to.

By the time we left the kitchen and moved farther through the house, my head was honestly starting to hurt from how many invisible lines existed inside the mansion.

Two bedrooms upstairs were completely off-limits too.

“And never enter the theatre room,” Peggy added.

My steps slowed. "Peggy." She turned to look at me. "I have a question."

"Of course."

"I'd like you to answer it like I'm your sister." My voice lowered. “Woman to woman… should I be worried?”

She gave me a look like she didn’t know whether to laugh or answer seriously. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” I moved closer and lowered my voice even more. “If there are hidden cameras and you’re scared to talk, just give me a sign. Blink twice.”

That actually made her laugh softly.

“I’m serious,” I whispered.

“I promise you, there’s nothing to be afraid of. As long as you respect the rules, you’ll be fine.”

She gave me a look. “I live here. Do I look like I’m in danger?”

Her face looked calm enough that it was hard not to believe her.

"No," I admitted reluctantly. "You don't."

"Then trust that." She began walking again and I fell back into step beside her.

"It's just a lot of rules," I said after a moment. "Don't you think it's a little strange?"

She glanced at me sideways. "One more thing worth noting. Asking questions isn't something that's encouraged around here."

I stopped walking entirely. "Take me to his study."

She looked mildly surprised but didn't argue.

Peggy knocked twice and we stood outside the door in silence until his voice came through. "Come in."

The study was large and quiet, with dark shelves covering most of the walls. Alan sat behind his desk with a document open in front of him, his eyes lifting the second I walked in.

"Are you still in?" he asked.

"I have a question first."

A quiet sigh left him. “Did Peggy not explain the part where I dislike questions?”

"She did." I kept my voice steady. "But I still have one."

He stared at me before leaning back in his chair. "Go ahead."

"Are you involved in anything shady? Kidnapping… Mafia…"

His brow furrowed. "Your brother works for me.”

"That doesn’t answer the question.”

"It's the most relevant answer I can give you. If I had anything to hide, I wouldn't be inviting you into my home. I value boundaries and privacy. That’s all.”

He held my gaze, waiting for an answer. “So. Are you in or out?”

The answer should have come easily because I had already decided before coming here. But after hearing all the rules and seeing how tense he became over a picture and a piano, I had to remind myself of the reasons I considered doing it.

He waited without pressuring me while I stood there thinking.

“Yes,” I said finally. “But I have one last thing to ask. More like… a favour.”

A breath left him like he regretted allowing the question in the first place. “Okay.”

“Can you pay Noah’s student loans off?”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you.”

He gave a small nod. “Since that’s settled, I’ll take you to meet my family tomorrow.”

Tomorrow?

"Relax." He must have seen the panic on my face. "Everyone already knows this is an arrangement.”

That somehow made me feel both better and worse.

“There’s no need trying to convince anybody we’re in love.” His attention returned to the document in front of him. “The only person who can’t know about the arrangement is my grandmother.”

“You must really love her.”

“I do.”

“What illness does she have?”

He lifted his head and gave me a look. "Parkinson's.”

Opening my mouth to tell him I was sorry, he shook his head. “That’s enough. You’ve stretched your one-question limit.”

“I just wanted to say sorry,” I muttered.

He didn't respond. His attention returned to his work, which felt like a clear dismissal. Taking the hint, I turned and headed for the door. I was halfway out when his voice stopped me.

“If you're having second thoughts, now is the time to back out.”

The words made me look back and our eyes locked. “Why?”

“Because once my family is involved, it stops being just about us.”