"Because it is a thousand pities never to say what one feels, he thought..."
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I don't remember going to my room. Matter of fact I don't remember leaving Luc's office. Somehow I found myself in a bed that did wonders for my back. Nestled under a plush comforter that kept away the biting cold in the air, surrounded by the smell of wood and spice. Surrounded by the smell of him.
I stared blankly at the clouded darkness through the skylight. Stars twinkled just beyond my reach. I replayed our conversation, our agreement. Starting today, I was Luc Tessieure's girlfriend. I wasn't sure if the butterflies in my stomach were from exhaustion or nausea.
Did I sleep through the entire day?
I grappled blindly for my glasses and phone, winching as the glaring light burned my eyes when I tapped the screen. I groaned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It was 20:13. Twelve hours and I still feel horrid. My gaze wandered to the contract staring back at me on the nightstand. Pulling myself up until my back pressed firm against the headboard, I grabbed the stack of papers.
There were articles about my past indiscretion and the promise that in exchange for my cooperation I would never be turned over to the authorities. Everything we had spoken about was involved, along with a clause stating my responsibilities as a girlfriend. Most of it involved making public appearances, accompanying him around the world, posting on social media, talking him up in interviews, and possibly assisting his cybersecurity council. One particular sentence caught my eye.
'Private sexual or intimate acts are not required, but are acceptable if both parties consent.'
My brow arched. Interesting. Maybe there was hope that one day the hatchet could be completely buried. He could view me as I truly was, instead of a con. Maybe the connection we had didn't have to be severed by my past mistakes.
I didn't realize a dumb smile had found itself on my face until my cheeks began to hurt. Scoffing, I tumbled out of the bed. I hesitantly put weight on my wounded leg, thankful sleep had dulled the pain. I found the courage to stand and used the soft glow of the crescent moon to find a light switch. Even though I was illuminated by soft orange instead of glaring fluorescent, my eyes burned furiously as I squinted.
I pulled on my hood as a draft hit me, the cold from the hardwood flooring cutting through my socks with ease. Shivering I pulled the entire duvet off the bed and wrapped myself in it. What man let the temperature drop below sixty in their own home? Cheapskate billionaire Luc Tessiure.
The room was fairly large with a panoramic window like Luc's office and a glass ceiling like the living room. My bed was pushed against the wall adjacent to the door, the white frame sitting atop a plush purple carpet. Next to the bed was the small white nightstand where I found the contract. On the opposite wall was a small, white desk with a laptop, a fuzzy purple rolling chair, and a white bookshelf filled with hardbacks and magazines. Pressed against the window was a large, leather chaise that overlooked the New York skyline. I crossed the room and opened the door next to my desk, met by more cold air.
