After all, I still need to punish her for lying.

FOUR

BELLAMY

Questions swarm my mind, mixing together in a slurry of confusion and excitement.

What just happened in there?

And what did I just agree to?

And what kind of company has these types of jobs?

Is it legal?

On what planet is any of this normal?

And why do I not feel as if I’ve just been sexually assaulted?

At least I’ll be paid well. Twenty-thousand dollars a month well.

I tuck my shirt back into my skirt and smooth my hands along the buttons until I no longer look like I’d been hot and bothered two minutes ago.

I’m blushing. My cheeks fill with red that radiates straight down to my core. When Dane almost kissed me, I thought I was going to lose it. It’s a miracle I stayed as composed as I did because all I could think about was the way he would feel inside me.

The intoxicating bite of his expensive cologne still lingers in my lungs. I want to bathe in it and never forget the way it swept me away for a small portion of my young life. His cologne makes me feel fancy. Sophisticated.

Like there’s a whole other world out there waiting for me to explore.

A world like I’ve never known and in which I undeniably belong.

My mind is stuck on Dane like it’s on a loop, replaying the last hour over and over, the good intensely dominating the bad.

I walked in this morning thinking I’d be filing papers and typing memos all day. Never once did I ever imagine a scenario in which I’d be agreeing to sexually submit to some arrogant suit.

The hunger in his eyes and the way he subtly licked his lips as his gaze dripped down me slow like honey melted my concerns and strengthened my resolve. Sex with a very handsome man might not be the worst thing I could’ve stumbled into.

But I didn’t love the restraints.

At all.

Sigh.

“Laurie?” I knock on the door with the H.R. sign hanging next to it. “I’m Bellamy. Dane sent me here to sign some paperwork.”

She looks up over her red-framed glasses, her pearls pooling into a puddle on her desk.

“Yes. I’ve been expecting you. Come in. Have a seat.”

I took a human resources management class at college once. I don’t remember much about it besides the fact that H.R. is meant to protect the company from certain liabilities. Most people think the H.R. department is their personal liaison, someone to turn to when they’re having troubles with their superiors or an unfair policy.

Laurie’s job is to serve the best interest of the company, which is exactly why the first document resting atop the stack of paperwork is a non-disclosure agreement.

She knows.

How many have come before me?

“This is standard,” she says, sensing my reluctance. “Feel free to take it to your office and read it over. There’s a consent form in there that you and Mr. Townsend need to complete together. If you have any questions, I’m a phone call away. The insurance forms are pretty self-explanatory. Don’t forget to sign and date the background check authorization and complete the emergency contact form.”

I gather the stack of papers in my hand and nod toward the door. “Dane said my office is next to his. Would it be unlocked?”

“Everything’s ready for you. Your key is on your desk. I.T. has set up your computer. There’s a company directory in your top desk drawer.” Her words are short and curt, like she’s telling me, “You’re a smart cookie. You got yourself into this. You’ll figure it out” in not so many words.

I suppose she’s exactly right.

When I leave Laurie’s office, I bump into a group of women standing around the reception desk laughing and chatting idly with fancy, enameled mugs in their manicured hands. The conversation ceases as soon as I approach, but one of them offers me a kind smile.

“I’m Bellamy.” I stop and introduce myself. Humanizing myself always seemed to work with the mean girls at school. People tend to be kinder in their judgments when they realize you’re not much different than they are or at the very least, that you have a name.

Marlene introduces them as Caitlin, Harlow, and Brenna. I’m told they’re from accounting, but they look as if they sashayed straight off a Parisian runway. I’m guessing smiling Brenna is the halfway decent one of the bunch. The others keep their distance, not saying much of anything as they grip their mugs and bide their time before I carry on my merry way.

They’ve got to know.

I’m sure the second I leave, they’re going to discuss the new company courtesan.

It’s okay, I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to make money so I can move on with my life. This’ll all be a distant memory someday, mean girls and all.

I amble down the hallway, toward the mahogany double doors, which house my master’s office. I giggle at the word master. It’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t possibly take it seriously.

But for twenty thousand dollars a month? I’ll at least pretend like I take it extremely seriously.

When I reach my office, I slip inside expecting something more along the lines of a janitorial closet. The buckling of my knees in response to the sweeping view of the city, the polished mahogany desk, and the crystal sconces on dimmers was the last thing I expected. Wallpaper covered walls in a shade of cream give off a luxurious sheen fit for a palace-dwelling queen, and a brand new laptop and cell phone rest in the center of it all.

My finger traces along the dust-free ledge of my desk before trailing up to the silver laptop. I crack the lid and take a seat at my desk. The screen prompts me to create a password, but before I do, I pick up the shiny, white cell phone sitting to my right.

I’ve never owned a cell phone in my life. They’re strictly prohibited in the Miller family.

Except, of course, for my father. He gets one for emergency purposes, he says, since he works outside of the home.

But no one else.

I’ll have to fight tooth and nail and explain that this is a work phone, and even then I’m looking at slim chances. But it’s worth a shot.

While I ransack my drawers in search of a pen, a quick rap at my door ushers in Dane. I lose my breath for a second until I force ice water through my veins and try to regroup.

“That was a quick conference call,” I say as he takes the seat across from me. He pulls two pens from the interior breast pocket of his suit and places one in front of me. It reminds me of a polished silver bullet. Upon examination, I see his monogram along the barrel.

His palm runs the length of his slim, black tie. “My brother isn’t one to be long winded.”

“What’s his name?”

Dane’s head tilts as if he’s bothered by this small talk. “Beckham. Beckham King. He runs the east coast division.”

Different last names. I want to ask why, but it’s none of my business.

“Have you had a chance to go over the paperwork?”

“I’m just getting settled. Was looking for a pen when you walked in.”

“Why don’t you start with the consent form? My time is limited, and I’d like to get that out of the way.”

I lick the pad of my middle finger and page through the stack of paperwork until I come across a consent form. It’s on personal stationery with the logo of a legal firm at the bottom along with an attorney’s signature.

“I have some questions first.” I peer across the desk at him. “If that’s okay.”

“And what are your questions?”

“It’s just, I didn’t know this type of job existed. I guess I’m more curious than anything else. Is this legal?”

He smirks. “You’re not a prostitute, Bellamy. If that’s your concern.”

“I guess I just don’t understand why you need someone here all day, every day for this? Not that I’m complaining. Like I said, I’m just curious. I’m not judging you.”