The Agreement (An Indecent Proposal) (12 page)

“I thought I was hiring you.
I didn’t realize you had expectations,” I said feebly, my heart sinking in my
chest. Of course, in order to hire his services I would have to pay him. Given
that I was struggling in the financial department and he
was doing me a favor, it made sense that he expected something in return.

“Of course I do. Everyone has
expectations, or else we would be taken for granted or taken advantage of,”
Chase said.

He made himself sound so weak and
innocent, I had to suppress a snarky reply.

“Taken advantage of, huh?”

“You asked me how you could repay
me, and those are my requests. There is no such thing as a free ride. I’ll just
go on and call it fair.” He tipped his long finger against the envelope. “Like
I said, everything you need to know is in
there.”

My
fingers clasped around the
envelope, fidgeting, as my curiosity got a hold of me, urging me to find out
what those requests were. Chase’s hand settled on mine again and squeezed lightly.
“At home, Laurie.”

His voice was soft, maybe carrying
even the slightest hint of a gentle, romantic undertone. Judging by the way his
hand lingered on me and his eyes were glinting, anyone watching would think he
had just proposed to me.

And he had.

But people would have been
surprised at what he had just offered.

“It’s an indecent proposal,
Chase,” I whispered.

He tilted his head. “I have to
agree, but I can promise you it’s one you’ll appreciate.” He winked. “Now we’re
going to enjoy our dinner and talk about something else. It’s our third and
last date before our marriage, so I want it to be good and decent, because
after Tuesday, it will be nothing of that sort.”

All words inside my brain died. I
had no idea what he meant, but maybe it didn’t matter—for the time being.

He waved at the waiter to take
our order. I pushed the envelope aside unwillingly, but my mind kept circling
around the question at hand.

What exactly did he expect in return for his favors?

Our date barely lasted half an
hour. When I arrived back home, Jude was waiting in the living room with
countless boxes scattered around her and a phone cradled between her ear and
shoulder. I peered through the door to say hi, ignoring the mess scattered all
over the floor, and then headed for my bedroom, locking the door behind me. The
last thing I needed was for her to pop in at an unfortunate moment. Not that I
had anything to hide from her, but whatever Chase’s envelope contained, I
wanted the privacy to look it over without anyone’s input. Revealing intimate
details about my life wasn’t really my thing, and I had a feeling that Chase’s
demands were more than that. Plus, the suspense was killing me. Not knowing
about something was almost worse than dying of boredom.

Sitting on my bed, I peeled the
envelope open and pulled out two sheets of paper. It was an agreement.

I stared in disbelief at rows and
rows of words—all Chase’s wishes—and then began to read, unable to
stop the heat spreading through me.

Like Chase had announced, his
first demand was that we remained married for a whole year, during which we
would live in the same household, albeit in different bedrooms. He also
expected me to relocate to NYC for the next few weeks and move in with him
straight away, because he had to work there.

I could deal with that.

And NYC sounded exciting. It had
always been at the top of my ‘places to visit’ list.

A few points suited the purpose of
resolving everyday issues, like financial arrangements. He preferred to keep
his financial status a secret, and so did I. He expected me to accompany him to
social gatherings and support him in his career, which was to be expected given
that he was an actor. Hanging out with the right people was probably part of the
job description.

So far, so good.

I could do that.

I liked to be professional.

What cut off my air supply was the
next point on his list.

Or, to be more precise, the few
points that centered around sex.

Holy cow!

What the hell were some of those
words? I knew Chase wanted to get down and dirty with me, but what the fuck! He
had compiled a whole list of things he wanted to teach me. They were so bad,
heat began to travel through me and settle in places I didn’t want to be
reminded of.

Chase’s requirement of using safe
words didn’t help either.

I rubbed a hand over my eyes and
then reread the few points in the hope I might have misinterpreted the obvious,
but no matter how often I analyzed his words, the requirements remained the
same:

He wanted experimental sex.

Why do you act surprised, Hanson? He told you that before.

Yeah, he had. I just couldn’t wrap
my head around the word ‘experimental.’

During dinner he had offered to
sleep with me should I so desire in the
future. Only,
my brain hadn’t quite grasped the full meaning of his
words.

That sex wasn’t just sex.

That it involved intimacy, and
getting really close to someone.

That there were different kinds of
sex, and judging from Chase’s words, he wanted adventure, passion, the whole
shebang, with different levels and a variety of activities.

I frowned, because Chase hadn’t
just offered. His agreement stated that he expected me to do the deed within a
week of the wedding ceremony, which would mean that in less than one week I wasn’t
just going to be his wife.

In less than a week, I’d sleep
with him.

I swallowed hard.

At least Chase had specified that
I had a say in the time and choice of place. And because different people had
different needs and he didn’t know how often I’d want him—his exact
words—we’d have to do a few runs to find out.

I turned the paper over, and as I
read on, I stumbled on one paragraph.

I frowned and my eyes widened.

Holy cow.

He expected sex at least twice a
week during the entire time we remained married.

What the hell!

I shook my head in disbelief.

Twice a week for one year.

A year had fifty-two weeks, which
meant I would have to fuck him—how many times?

I leaned forward and buried my
head in my hands.

Oh, God.

At least a hundred and four times
within one year. And since—from the look of it—Chase was into
experimental, he probably harbored every intention of covering the entire
Kama Sutra
.

Talk about demanding.

Everyone has needs, Hanson. It’s natural.

Only Chase had a whole bunch of
them. As he had said, “We both need it.”

I figured by that he had meant
that
he
had needs and it was my duty
as his wife to fulfill them. I drew a long breath and let it out slowly as I
pushed the paper back into the envelope, my mind spinning with unwanted
pictures: Chase holding me, his lips descending upon mine, his hands roaming
over my body, touching places no one had touched before him, his finger playing
with my folds, rubbing my clit, before he shredded the last mystery of my
bodily needs.

Heat crept up my neck, which intensified
as my cell phone began to ring and I stared at the caller ID.

Speak of the devil.

Instantly, my heart started to
hammer against my chest. Against my better judgment, I looked over my shoulder
to make sure he wasn’t standing there, watching me—which was impossible,
given that the door was locked and I would have heard someone entering.

As much as I didn’t want to talk
to him now, what difference did it make? Sooner or later I’d have to talk with
him about all the things I couldn’t agree to.

I smoothed a hand over my clothes
and sat up straight, because, even though he couldn’t see me, I figured he
might be able to tell my state of mind from my voice.

“Hi,” I said, picking up on the
third ring, infusing as much boredom into my voice as was possible.

“Did you read it, Laurie?” came
Chase’s reply.

No beating around the bush.

His voice was deep and deliciously
sexy. Something stirred in me at the way my name rolled on his tongue, sending
a light tremble through my core, and making my breathing harder. Was that his
usual telephone voice? Or just the one he put on when he talked to women?

“Yes.” I grimaced at how hoarse my
voice sounded.

“And?”

What did he expect
me to
say? I hesitated. If I accepted his demands so quickly, he’d always think I was
a pushover. But could I really go through a round of
negotiation
without dying of sheer mortification? Could I really talk matter-of-factly
about all the things I had no experience of and was not comfortable talking about?

“You really want me to relocate to
New York and live with you?” I asked, slightly out of breath.

“Yes. It’s just for a couple of
weeks.”

“I don’t know, Chase. While I understand your points, your
stipulations aren’t really what I signed up for when I offered you the job.” I
made sure to emphasize the word
job,
because
in the end I was the employer, and consequently I was supposed to be the one
formulating the demands.

“What do you suggest?” Chase
asked.

He was willing to listen. That was
good. In fact, very good.

I needed cooperation. For him to
come halfway or maybe bend to my rules.

Yeah, he was the one who had to do
the bending.

Will against will.

I could win that one.

I bit my lip as my mind began to
put together my own list. I couldn’t
possibly
live with him while fighting this stupid attraction. I was already having
troubles kicking him out of my mind.

“I’m fine with staying married and
living together for a month or two, during which we sleep in separate
bedrooms,” I started. “After the month is over we claim to have different work
schedules, and because you’re away on jobs, it’s necessary that we stay in
separate apartments.”

Silence.

I waited a few seconds.

The line was so quiet I wasn’t
sure he hadn’t hung up.

“Chase?”

“That’s not going to work for me,”
Chase said at last. “Come to think of it, I’m not so keen on the different
bedrooms idea either.”

Oh, God. He couldn’t be serious.
My heart sank in my chest.

He’s playing you, Hanson.

“Take it or leave it,” I said
through gritted teeth.

“You need this more than I do,
Laurie. Think about it. I could as well have asked for payment, you know, but I
didn’t. So, I won’t change my requests.”

The line went dead.

What the fuck?

He had hung up on me.

Again.

My blood began to boil in my
veins.

Who the heck did he think he was?

Yes, gorgeous was his middle name,
and yes, his claim that I needed him carried some truth. But what the hell! I
wasn’t going to let a man dictate
my
business
proposition. Not when I was the one who should have been holding all the
strings.

Breathing hard, I counted to ten,
forcing myself to calm down.

I managed to let my ego control my
reasoning for all of five seconds, after which I dialed his number.

“Fine,” I mumbled. “We live
together.”

“In my house. For one year.”

Given that my home was a tiny rented apartment with barely
enough space to accommodate Jude’s extensive wardrobe and shoe collection,
Chase’s suggestion wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Okay. But I have to insist on
different rooms, if we’re to live together.” I closed my eyes, mentally willing
him to give in, because this one was my no-negotiation area. He was asking the
impossible.

I simply couldn’t let him stay in
the same room with me.

The line went silent again, but I
still could hear his breathing.

“I need my privacy, Chase.”

He remained silent for a long moment, probably considering
whether he could
push his luck with this one. I
rolled my eyes and kicked at the pillow with my foot.

“I mean it, Chase,” I whispered. “If I don’t get my privacy,
then I cannot do this.”
And you know I
need those letters
, I added mentally. If not to discover the truth, then at
least to find peace and bury the past once and for all.

I bit my lip hard until I thought the thin layer of skin
might tear. The other end of the line continued to remain quiet, and for a
moment I feared Chase had hung up on me again.

And then he spoke.

“Why?” His voice came low, strangled.

Why?

There were so many reasons. Like
the fact that I wasn’t ready to share my bed or life or anything at all with a
man. Or the fact that if we slept in the same room I might not be strong enough
to resist his advances or looks. I just had to remind myself of the last time
we had been in his bed, and of how close I had been to giving in, to know that
I couldn’t cave on this one. And then there was the fact that I had never been
attracted to anyone like this before, which wasn’t bad per se. But with new
territories come new experiences and new challenges. Chase was such a
challenge…a challenge I knew instinctively I couldn’t win. Like with all new
things, the prospect of entering new and uncharted territories scared me. But
how could I explain this to someone who wouldn’t understand?

“It’s just not a possibility,” I
said.

“Trust me, Laurie.” Chase spoke
with a
casual familiarity, as though he could sense the storm wreaking
havoc within me. Maybe he thought he knew me, concluding that I had been hurt
in the past. Or maybe his words were nothing but empty shells, spoken to other
women countless times.

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

Marriage? Yes, for a reason, and for that reason only.
Trust? Impossible.

“I cannot do that,” I said. “And I don’t care if you
understand. This is all I can say.”

“All right.” He sighed. “
Different
rooms, then.” Did I detect a hint of disappointment in his voice?

Your imagination’s
running wild, Hanson.

I smirked. So true, and not just in this instance. I kept
imagining things. Things he wanted to say but didn’t. Things I wanted to say
and do but could never admit. Things that made me blush even in his absence,
out of fear that he might just be
able to sense my
forbidden desires…and act upon them.

“Okay. One more time, just to make
sure you got it. We live together, but we’ll have different rooms,” I repeated,
in the hope my tone carried enough determination that he wouldn’t try to change
his mind later.

“Yes.”

I heaved an exaggerated sigh,
ready to move on to my next point in the agreement, but Chase’s voice pricked
my bubble.

“But I still expect you to stay
married for one year. One year, Laurie,” he said. “We can sleep in separate
rooms, but I expect our relationship to be exclusive, and for me to teach you.
I won’t accept any arguing or bargaining on this point. Deal?”

I stared at the sheets, completely
overwhelmed. What relationship would that be?

“What if it doesn’t work out?” I
asked.

“Why shouldn’t it?” He sounded
annoyed. Suddenly I could picture him clearly in my mind, his brow furrowed and
his jaw clenching.

“People get divorced all the time,
you know, even when they’re in love.”
And
we’re not
, I wanted to add, but didn’t. “They make mistakes and realize
maybe the other one isn’t all they hoped for. One year can be a very long
time.”

“If there’s a problem, we’ll talk
about it and can renegotiate our terms. But until then, I see absolutely no
reason for discussing what might never be.”

I brushed a hand through my hair
nervously. “Okay. I’m in.”

There, I’d said it.

No chance to take it back.

“All right.” His voice softened. “Make sure to sign the contract.”

“All right,” I repeated.

There was a short silence before Chase spoke again, “Have
you thought about the kind of wedding you want?”

He was changing the subject,
avoiding the one thing I had no choice but to discuss.

“Whatever we do works for me,” I
whispered. “Make an appointment with a justice of the peace and I’ll be there.”

“I have already done that. Do you
have a paper and pen?”

“One sec.”

I opened my appointment book and
flicked through the blank pages, my mood darkening, until I reached the page
that said Tuesday. Chase confirmed the date and time with me.

I was really doing it.

It was really happening.

The thoughts of my imminent
wedding made my head spin, as I realized just how soon it’d all be.

Too soon.

“Laurie?” Chase’s voice cut through
the silence.

For once I wished I could see him,
catch his reaction, know what he was doing.

“Is this a really a good idea?” I
whispered, my voice almost breaking.

“Are you getting cold feet
already? We haven’t even reached the altar yet.” His voice carried a hint of
amusement. And then laughter erupted. “Laurie, I won’t ask impossible things
from you. I’m just trying to help us both.”

“You don’t understand,” I mumbled.
“Those things you expect of me, I’m not sure I can do them.” I eyed the sheets
again, his words ringing in my mind loud and clear. “What if I don’t like it?
Or what if I just can’t?”

“We’ll take it one step at a time
and find out what you like and what you don’t. But make no mistake, Laurie. I
won’t hurt you or force myself on you. And I sure won’t do things you won’t
like. Experimental sex is what it is—us trying to find our heights and
limits…” He trailed off, leaving the rest to my imagination. “Trust me.”

Maybe Chase was right.

“Do you have any other questions,
Laurie? Anything that still bothers you? We’ll soon be a couple, so you need to
be honest with me.” The humor was back. In spite of the seriousness of the
situation, I found myself smiling.

Was I ready to reveal my real
thoughts?

My neck prickled and burned, as
though I had just been stung by a jellyfish.

I had to.

“About the other thing. The day of
our wedding.” I paused and moistened my lips as I pulled my legs to my chest.
“How will our day look like?”

“We won’t have time to arrange
something elaborate,” Chase explained. “Maybe a reception, have dinner, and
then we could spend the night in a hotel.”

My stomach churned.

“Chase,” I said sharply. “Just so
we’re on the same page, I’m not going to spend a minute in a hotel unless we
have separate rooms.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve made
yourself clear on the issue.” Disappointment
again,
with just a hint of anger. Or maybe it wasn’t anger so much as indignation.

He thinks you’re rejecting him, which is understandable.
First, you told him he was welcome. And then you said you didn’t want to sleep
in the same room.

Talk about complicated.

“Whatever,” I muttered, and tucked
my legs beneath me as I prepared myself to fight my corner. “I’m not going to
sleep with you on Tuesday. That’s way too soon.”

“Are you sure about that?” No hesitation. No indignation.
Just pure male
arrogance. I had been wrong. He didn’t
think I was rejecting him. He was convinced I could never say no and
consequently he was impatient to take what he thought I’d give him sooner or
later anyway.

I would
never
sleep with him; not because I didn’t want to, but just to
spite him. Someone had to put a dent in that arrogance of his. The last time I
found myself in bed with him, I had dropped my panties for him. My mistake. I
had been too preoccupied with how sexy he looked, instead of realizing the kind
of danger his good looks had on me, and what that could mean for us.

That was all before Chase came up
with the sordid suggestion of living together.

Now I had to step up my game.

But keeping my panties on had
never felt more difficult.

No pressure at all.

“Sleeping with you would be a
conflict of interest, and you know it. Scratch the wedding night sex part or
I’m out,” I said coldly.

“Fine. If you’re not interested in
sex now, we don’t have to do anything.” His voice was nonchalant—cold,
even. “Sooner or later, you’ll want me anyway. You told me before and you’ll do
it again. There’s no doubt about that.”