Betrayal (30 page)

I couldn’t call. Speaking to her about Infidelity would be a breach of the agreement.

I couldn’t even discuss the specifics last night with Cy and Patrick, and they knew about Infidelity. Even without my saying much, it was clear they both understood my ongoing inner turmoil. One minute, I was happy that I’d found a solution and law school was secure. During those moments, I wanted to hug Patrick and Cy. Then, five minutes later, I was mortified at the solution I’d accepted. I questioned my decision: maybe I should have looked around more for another job or I could have spoken to the bursar’s office at Columbia about student loans.

It was as I lay in bed that I began to worry about my
client
. What if I didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like me? What if I ended up being the first exception to Infidelity’s abuse clause? What if he wasn’t my type? Though I’d answered a very intense and extensive list of questions, was that really enough to accurately pair me with someone I’d never met?

I also wondered about my apartment. I didn’t know if I should keep it or call and break the lease. Housing was mandatory for Infidelity. My client would provide it, and more than likely it would be with him. Then again, just because I was required to live with this unknown man, having a place of my own sounded nice. After all, my apartment was near campus. I could use it as a place to study. With a monthly salary of twenty thousand dollars, the apartment’s rent of three thousand was no longer an issue.

I stared at the ceiling. As tears dripped like a leaky faucet from the corners of my eyes, I wondered if I could do this. At this moment, getting out of bed seemed a monumental effort. How could I follow through? My pillow was damp, but I made no attempt to hold back my tears. I contemplated curling into a ball and never moving. I’d tried that before, but no matter where I hid, Jane always found me.

With each passing minute my sense of loathing grew. Every ounce of the repugnant emotion was directed at myself.
I’d
done this. I’d betrayed everything I’d ever stood for. I lied to myself, thinking that Alex was an improvement over Alexandria. She wasn’t. She was worse. I’d made this decision. It wasn’t done to me.

Adelaide and Alton had been right about one thing: they knew Alexandria would sell herself given the right incentive. They just didn’t realize I would sell myself to a stranger.

Would I be better off back at Montague Manor with Bryce?

The ringing of my phone shattered the silent air, stilled my interior monologue, and pulled me from my funk. The number flashing on the screen was unknown. I suddenly worried that it was Bryce. Why hadn’t I programmed his name in my phone before I deleted his text messages?

Wiping my eyes, I made the decision that I was done hiding. It never worked when I was young; it wouldn’t work now. I sat up and steeled my shoulders. Exhaling a deep breath, I answered on the fourth ring, barely saving the caller from my voicemail. “Hello.”

“Miss Collins?”

The voice wasn’t Bryce’s. It was a woman. “Yes, this is she,” I replied as my mind came to life with the possible identity of the caller: someone from Columbia—Alton had withdrawn my tuition, someone about my apartment—they needed to see me. I hadn’t had the chance to reach the correct possibility before the woman spoke.

“Miss Collins, this is Karen Flores from Infidelity. We spoke yesterday.”

Did she really think I’d forgotten?

“Yes, Ms. Flores, I remember.” Maybe I failed the exam? Probably the psychological one. They thought I was too crazy to be someone’s companion. If I had failed, I wondered if I’d be relieved or upset.

“Miss Collins, this is highly unusual. However, I need you to come to the office immediately.”

“Immediately?”

“As soon as you can get here. How soon could that be?”

I hadn’t moved since last night. After the piano bar, Cy, Patrick, and I went to dinner. By that time, I’d consumed a few too many martinis. It wasn’t my drink of choice, mostly because I wasn’t used to them. After dinner, we came back to the apartment and Patrick poured me more than one glass of wine. The alcohol had undoubtedly been my coping mechanism, helping me come to terms with the decisions I’d made. I was getting closer to becoming Adelaide day by day.

Considering the circumstances, I decided I had the right to overindulge. That was fine then. Now I reeked of stale booze and needed a shower. “I’m afraid it will take me a few hours.”

“This is extremely important. Be here by one.”

Shit! That is in two hours.

“Yes, I can do that. Ms. Flores?”

“Yes?”

“Is there a problem with my application?”

“We’ll discuss it in person.” The line went dead.

Reflexively, I tapped the first four numbers of Chelsea’s cell number. That was all it took to have her full number, name, and smiling face on my screen. Before I hit the green icon, I remembered that I couldn’t tell her about Infidelity or ask her what to do. The sense of loneliness surrounded me as I deleted the numbers and called Patrick.

“I don’t know,” he said. “That didn’t happen to me. I told you it was about three weeks before I was introduced…”

I sighed. “Well, I’d better get cleaned up and go.”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Don’t be late and let me know what happens.”

“I will,” I said, disconnecting the call. Talking to Patrick didn’t ease my nerves. If anything, it made them worse. My stomach twisted as I worked to make myself less of a hungover, depressed excuse for a human and more of the confident put-together woman who’d been at Infidelity yesterday.

I had no idea what to wear. I wished I could wear the suit I’d worn the day before, but that wouldn’t do. My clothing choices were limited. The movers weren’t going to get my things from California until tomorrow. All that I had with me were the clothes I’d taken to Savannah.

With my clean hair—smelling like shampoo instead of old alcohol—pulled back into a low ponytail and my best attempt at reproducing Andrew’s makeup, I decided to wear a simple sleeveless navy sheath dress and navy pumps. If the dress had a jacket it would be very Jackie O. Luckily, I’d packed it with Montague Manor dining protocol in mind.

That made me laugh.

Well, thank you, Mother, for your ridiculous dress code. If you weren’t of that disposition, I wouldn’t have the proper attire to meet with my new pimp.

That sounded brash, even inside my own head, but I couldn’t think of a good argument to refute any of it.

As the taxi approached 17 State Street, I rubbed my moist palms over my dress for the hundredth time and looked at my watch. The traffic was worse than it’d been yesterday, or maybe it was just my imagination. Either way, I was pushing my deadline when I raced into the lobby and pushed the up button in need of an elevator.

There were so many elevators in New York. I wondered if anyone knew the exact number. There was the elevator in Patrick’s building and the one here. I could go an entire week in Palo Alto and never ride one elevator. I didn’t mind steps. That said, steps to a third floor and steps to the thirty-seventh were two different things.

“Miss Collins—” I began to say to the receptionist sitting behind the large desk for Infidelity when she lifted her hand and stopped my words.

She pushed a button near her ear and spoke into a Bluetooth, “Ms. Flores, Miss Collins has arrived.” She lifted her eyes to me. “She’ll be right out.”

I was certain that I was paranoid, but Karen’s greeting was less friendly than it seemed yesterday. I didn’t say anything until we were behind her closed office door. When we were, I asked, “Is there a problem? Have I done something wrong?”

Maybe someone heard me talking to Cy and Patrick. I worried about my five thousand dollars. I needed that money. Even if I was going to be told that I didn’t meet the criteria for Infidelity, I’d already made mental plans for the interview money.

Karen sat and adjusted her shoulders. “No, Miss Collins. You haven’t done anything wrong. Your pairing has moved with record speed.”

My heart stopped beating as the blood drained from my face and settled in my stomach. “M-My pairing?”

She had a black pen in her hand and twisted it as she spoke. “Yes. Today is the first day of your one-year commitment, the first day of your agreement.”

“I-I thought maybe you called me here to reject me.”

“No, Miss Collins. You are officially an Infidelity employee, and I have strict instructions for you.” She took a deep breath, stood, and walked to my side of the desk. Looking down, she continued, “Your agreement has been sold. The client paid not only the first and last month’s fee, but in order to expedite the process, he paid a rather large bonus. A percentage of that will be added to your first month’s salary.”

The butterflies in my stomach turned into full-grown bats.

Oh my God, this is happening.

“H-He’s not married, is he?” It was the first question that popped into my mind.

“No. Your hard limits were taken into consideration.”

“Is he
…
is he nice?”

Karen’s upper lip disappeared momentarily between her teeth before she answered. “Your client’s name is Mr. Demetri. He asked that I not say any more. Mr. Demetri is a very decisive man who knows what he wants. Alex, he wants you, and now he has you, for one year. Granted, I do not know him the way you will get to know him, but
nice
isn’t an adjective I’ve often heard associated with Mr. Demetri. I’ve only spoken to him on the telephone, but I’ve seen his picture. He’s handsome, refined, and well-mannered. He’s also high profile. He knows what’s at stake.” She reached back on her desk and picked up a card. “This is the card I promised you yesterday. I don’t believe it will be necessary, and, as I told you, it has never been needed in the history of Infidelity; however, you should keep it. It’s your safety net.”

My eyes widened as I reached for the card. Gripping was increasingly difficult with my trembling fingers. As I dropped the card in my purse, I asked, “Is he in New York? I can’t be somewhere else. Maybe I should withdraw my application?”

“Miss Collins, Mr. Demetri is aware of your law-school obligations. He’s an important man and has set his sights on you. From today until this date a year from now, for lack of a better phrase, Mr. Demetri
owns
you. When you signed the agreement yesterday afternoon, you forfeited the ability to withdraw.”

“W-What do I do?”

“Whatever he tells you to do.”

The thundering of my heart threatened to drown out her words.

Whatever he tells you to do.

I fought to breathe, to take in deep breaths. “Will he contact me?”

She handed me a piece of paper, a Post-it note.
Really?
On the small yellow square was a telephone number. I recognized the Manhattan area code of 646. It was the same as Patrick’s. “You are to call him.”

“H-He wants me to call him?”

“Now.”

“Now?” I asked, staring at the ten numbers.

“Miss Collins, I didn’t take the order as a request when I was given the instructions. Neither should you.”

My mouth dried as perspiration coated my skin. “You want me to call him right now, here
…
in front of you?”

She nodded.

Shit!

“May I please have a drink of water?”

Karen stepped to a sideboard and poured a glass of water. The silver metal pitcher was covered in droplets of condensation. Next she opened a cabinet, removed a crystal decanter with amber liquid, and poured a finger into another tumbler.

“Here,” she said, handing me both glasses.

“Thank you.” I placed the strong-smelling liquid on a nearby table and took a long drink of the water. Placing the empty glass next to what I assumed was whiskey, I removed my phone from my purse and began to dial.

6- My fingers shook. 4- Patrick’s name came to the screen. 6- I took a deep breath. 5- My screen read:
NOX- PRIVATE NUMBER
.

My eyes widened as they simultaneously blurred with tears.

“No.” My head moved from side to side as the barely audible word hung in the air.

I looked at the yellow Post-it and back to my screen. It was the same number.

My phone fell to my lap as I sucked in a breath and held tightly to my lower lip. “I-I can’t. I can’t call this number.” If I did I was breaking our rule. If I did I’d have to face
him
. It wouldn’t be like it was at Del Mar. This would be different. I would need him and he’d know it. “Please, Ms. Flores, please let me back out of my agreement. You don’t even need to pay me for yesterday. We’ll just call it a mistake, and I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“Miss Collins, Mr. Demetri is waiting for your call.”

The words she’d said earlier rang through my mind.
He set his sights on you. For the next year, he owns you.

I didn’t need to dial any more numbers; all I needed to do was touch the little green icon next to his name.

Oh fuck. I’m going to open the door.

I pushed it.

“Charli.” The deep, velvety voice came through my phone, sending shivers down my spine.

I reached for the whiskey and swallowed.

“Nox,” I replied, trying my best to sound confident.

“Mr. Demetri.” His tone held no emotion. “The rules have changed.”

The end of
Betrayal
…