The Contract

**KAELIA**

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind us, sealing me inside a world I didn't belong in. The interior of Navarro's home radiated the kind of staggering, obnoxious wealth that made my chest tight. Lavish furnishings filled the vast space, resting on polished marble floors that mirrored the crystal chandeliers hanging in every corner of the sitting room. My gaze drifted past the plush seating arrangements to the back wall. Three sets of towering double doors opened onto a massive, well-lit patio. Beyond that, a tri-level swimming pool featured a jacuzzi waterfall cascading down stone steps. Multicolored lights pulsed beneath the water's surface, making the ripples sparkle and dance against the night.

Scarlett stood in the center of the room, looking entirely too comfortable in this billionaire's fortress. She leaned against a custom wet bar, sipping dark whiskey from a heavy crystal glass she had already claimed for herself. "Bout time you folks got here."

"Help yourself," Navarro teased, a low hum of amusement in his chest. He gestured toward a long velveteen sofa, wordlessly instructing me to sit.

"Don't I always," Scarlett shot back, ignoring the barstool to come take her place right next to me on the sofa.

"That you do, V.C.," Navarro murmured, watching her. "That you do."

Scarlett swirled the amber liquid in her glass, her eyes sparkling as she looked sideways at me. "Did you two get better acquainted in the car?"

I shot her a withering glare, narrowing my eyes. *This isn't a double date, Scarlett.* My jaw locked.

"As much as need be," Navarro answered for me, his tone shifting into something far more businesslike. He checked his watch. "Now that you've seen your cousin safely settled behind my gates, you can leave. You have a flight to catch, don't you?"

Scarlett gave a single, curt nod. She downed the rest of her whiskey in one smooth swallow and stood up, smoothing the front of her jacket.

Cold panic slammed into my ribs. "Wait!" I yelped, my hands gripping the velvet cushions. "You're leaving? Now?"

She offered a dry smirk, her mouth falling open in a way that lacked her usual grace. "I don't live here, Kae. You do."

"B-but I thought you might stay a little longer!" My voice pitched higher, frantic abandonment anxiety clawing up my throat. My lungs seized. "I'm not comfortable here yet! I don't even know what's going on! I—"

"Scarlett has a job to do, Miss Vance." Navarro's voice cut through my rising hysteria like a blade. "A job she has been devoted to for quite some time. She knows her place." His emerald eyes met mine, crackling with sudden ice.

"I haven't signed your contract yet," I spat through clenched teeth, adrenaline fighting my fear. "I still might not agree to work for you."

He laughed. The sound echoed off the marble walls, melting some of the chill from his stare. "Oh, I'm pretty sure that you will."

Scarlett turned back to me, her expression softening. She reached out, taking my shaking hands in her steady ones. "Listen to me, Kae. This is the best thing for you. Trust me."

*Trust you?* I forced all my raw apprehension into my stare, silently pleading with her to take pity on me. I had just been dragged out of my college, thrown into a sedan flanked by armed guards in the trees, and now she was abandoning me with a man who looked at me like I was his personal property. "Scarlett... please."

She cocked her head, her gaze shuttering to hide whatever emotion she felt. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow. I'll come directly here. I won't even go home to unpack."

"You will not," Navarro stated flatly.

Scarlett threw him a sharp, challenging look over her shoulder. "I will."

He snorted, a harsh sound of disbelief. "Really?"

She nodded solemnly, hiking up an eyebrow in direct defiance. "Bet."

Navarro frowned. He crossed his thick arms over his wide, sculpted chest, his bicep straining against the fabric of his suit. "Don't mess this up, Scarlett. Make sure the job is done right."

Her face transformed into a mask of pure confidence, a defiant laugh escaping her lips. "Oh, it'll be right. Don't you worry about that."

"Go then," he dismissed her, waving a hand toward the front doors. "I guess we'll see you the day after tomorrow."

"Wait—" I scrambled up, shaking my head, desperate to keep her in the room for just one more minute. "What kind of job are you going to do? What does he mean, done right? What—"

My cousin slapped her hand over my mouth, shutting off my frantic questions. "Don't waste your time worrying about me, Kae. I know what I'm doing. Just concentrate on getting adjusted to your new life."

She pulled her hand away. I swallowed hard, a thick lump forming in my throat. I nibbled on my bottom lip nervously. "Okay."

Scarlett leaned forward and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. It was the exact kind of fierce embrace she used to give me when we were kids. For a fleeting second, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to pretend we were little again. I pretended she was still the invincible older cousin here to protect me from the monsters in the dark.

She pressed her mouth close to my ear. "I won't let anyone hurt you," she whispered, her voice a fierce, unyielding vow. "No one. Not even him."

She stepped back, releasing me. She shot Navarro a pointed, warning look before bringing her eyes back to mine. "Understand?"

I gulped. I glanced past her shoulder and noticed Navarro wasn't even paying attention to our goodbye. He had moved to the wet bar and was casually pouring himself a drink. "Yes," I said, meeting her steady gaze.

"Good," she replied. "I'll see you soon. Sleep well, okay?"

"Okay."

I watched her walk away, her heels clicking sharply against the marble. The heavy oak doors opened and closed. A moment later, still rooted in front of the sofa, I heard the familiar rumble of Giselle's engine coming to life outside as Scarlett sped away down the dark driveway. I was alone.

"Follow me," Navarro said, setting his glass down. "I have a contract for you to sign."

Ten minutes later, the faint comfort of Scarlett's promise had vanished, replaced by boiling, blinding rage. I sat in a leather chair inside his dimly lit office, staring down at the thick stack of papers on his mahogany desk.

"Confined to the grounds?!?" I hissed, reading over the first of the ridiculous clauses printed in bold ink. I looked up, glaring at him. "What does that mean exactly?"

He chuckled, unbothered by my anger. Standing behind his desk, he reached up and shrugged out of his tailored suit blazer. He draped it casually over the back of his massive leather chair before sitting down.

The movement stole the breath right out of my lungs. The crisp white dress shirt he wore underneath molded perfectly to his torso, outlining every harsh curve and groove of his chest. The fabric pulled taut across a wide expanse of muscle, showcasing every punch of sinew and flesh that God had seen fit to bless him with. This was a man who probably woke up in the morning, swallowed a dozen raw eggs, and lifted trucks for sport. The corded shift of his shoulders with each subtle movement was infuriatingly distracting. My face flushed hot. I was supposed to be reading the contract that dictated my new life, but I was having a painfully hard time keeping my eyes focused on the paper. Despite my anger over the confinement clause, a heavy wave of physical attraction washed over me. *He could smash Garrett into the pavement with just a flick of his wrist.*

"It means what it says," Navarro replied, his deep voice snapping my attention back to his face. "As a member of this household, you will remain here. Under guard. Anything and everything that you need will be provided to you."

"Provided to me," I repeated numbly. My gaze betrayed me again, following the path of his large fingers as he casually unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt, exposing the tanned, muscular column of his throat and a hint of chest hair.

"That's what I said. Yes."

"Uh-huh." I forced my eyes back down to the desk, digging my nails into my palms. "So I'm basically a prisoner. Stuck here."

His square jaw clenched, the playful amusement draining from his expression. "That's right."

"For how long?"

He let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair. "The contract is for a year."

"A *year*?" I nearly shouted, surging forward against the edge of the desk. "I can't stay locked away behind iron gates for a year! I'll go nuts!"

"You will have unrestricted access to all the amenities my estate has to offer in the meantime. The pool, the spa, the sauna, the tennis courts—"

"Tennis courts?" My brow furrowed.

He nodded smoothly. "There's even a private theater for my personal use on the third floor. You may have access to that. There's a library—"

"A library?" I perked up instantly, my anger stuttering. "How big is it?"

"I wasn't done talking," he snapped, his eyes flashing with irritation at the interruption.

"Oh!" A massive rush of blood surged into my face, reddening my cheeks to a painful degree. I shrank back into the leather chair. "S-sorry."

He groaned, bringing a hand up to rub his temple as he studied my flustered reaction. "You will be given a suite of rooms down the hall from my own master bedroom on the third floor. All to yourself."

"A suite of rooms," I repeated, feeling stupid. *What exactly does that mean? One room? Two? A closet with a cot?*

"Yes. A spacious bedroom, a private bathroom, and a sitting room."

"So basically, a small apartment."

He chuckled, the tension easing just a fraction. "Uh—yes. Minus the kitchen."

*Noice...* I thought, my brain struggling to process the luxury being handed to a broke college dropout. "Okay."

His eyebrows shot upward. "Okay?"

"That sounds alright, I guess." I shifted in the seat, anxiety creeping back in. "How often will I see Scarlett?"

His gaze narrowed into sharp green slits. "Scarlett doesn't live here."

*Right. Okay then.* I swallowed the lump in my throat and gestured toward the paperwork. "Do you have a pen?"

He grinned. His bright eyes glinted in the warm light of the brass desk lamp, taking on a dangerous, predatory shine. "Don't you think you ought to read the rest of the contract first? There are quite a few non-negotiables in there."

I froze. "Like what?"

Navarro leaned forward, resting his thick forearms on the desk. The relaxed demeanor vanished, replaced by an intense, terrifying gravity. "One of them being that you are never—under *any* circumstances, no matter how dire they might be—allowed to speak to anyone about the work I have you do here. And I mean no one, without exception. Not even yourself. You may not even pray about it."

My body seized. My stomach plummeted to the floor. "W-why not? Scarlett said I was going to be your maid. Why would me talking about dusting your shelves matter?"

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. His eyes turned nearly black as he fixed me with an unwavering glare. The sheer force of his presence pinned me to the chair. "Like I said before... you will not be a regular maid. You will be tending to me and me alone. That means as my *personal* servant, you will be present during certain... meetings."

I held my breath.

"Meetings that are always held behind closed doors," he continued, his voice dropping to a low, lethal rumble. "Meetings that are never to be spoken of. Not ever. During these... meetings, you might hear things. You might see things." He paused, letting the silence stretch until it suffocated me. "You might *clean* things that you're not altogether comfortable with."

Ice flooded my veins. *Clean things.* The image of the armed men in the trees flashed through my mind.

"But—you will do it," he commanded, his tone leaving zero room for negotiation. "And you will keep your mouth shut, your eyes lowered, and my associates... comfortable. You will refresh their drinks, clear their dishes, clean their messes, but that is all. There will be no speaking to them during these meetings, not ever. If they ask you a question? You will ignore them. You will not smile, you will not nod. The *only* person you are permitted to interact with during those meetings will be me."

Tense intimidation wrapped around my throat. He was outlining a nightmare. I would be trapped in rooms with dangerous men, cleaning up whatever disturbing, bloody messes their business left behind, forced into mute submission.

Navarro watched the horror wash over my face. "If you can do it, and do it well, you will be paid ten thousand dollars every two weeks."

My heart stopped.

The terrifying reality of the mafia meetings slammed into a brick wall of overriding financial shock. My jaw dropped. "I-I'm sorry? Did you say ten thousand every two *weeks*? Or every two—"

"You heard me correctly. Every two weeks," he smirked, leaning back again, clearly enjoying the absolute paralysis taking over my brain. "Now... would you still like that pen?"

Twenty thousand dollars a month. Two hundred and forty thousand dollars a year. For a girl who had just been publicly expelled and had less than fifty bucks to her name, it was an astronomical, life-altering sum. It secured my compliance instantly.

I forced my stiff neck to work, nodding like a wooden puppet. "Y-yes. Please."

He nodded, a faint smile playing over his lips. He reached into his top desk drawer and retrieved a heavy gold pen, sliding it across the polished wood toward me. "There's one more very important detail."

"What's that?" I asked absently. I snatched the pen, flipping to the signature page. My hand shook as I scribbled my name on the dotted line, sealing my fate.

"Don't fuck the bosses."

My hand jerked. The pen slipped, leaving a jagged ink streak at the end of my signature. Abrupt disbelief crashed through my system, freezing the air in my lungs. My head snapped up, my eyes wide as I stared at the man sitting across from me, entirely stunned by the raw vulgarity of the rule.

*What?*