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With the money in hand, I rush down to Mr. Barnier’s apartment and give him back his three-day notice sheet as well as last month’s rent, a satisfying smile stretched across my face. He barely acknowledges my presence and slams the door in my face, but it’s still a personal victory.
Grabbing my jacket from the back of my couch, I shrug it on and march out of my apartment. This extra money means I can go to the grocery store and make myself some dinner.
After walking a few blocks, I hear a high-pitched shrieking, the unsettling sound making me stop in my tracks. I glance around, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. Neon signs are flashing against the dark, smog-cloaked sky, a few homeless men are rifling through the trash cans lining the street, and a group of friends are joking around. No one else seems to hear the sound, but there it goes again. It’s pitiful, almost pleading. I follow the shrieks to a side alley where containers are stacked. Approaching slowly, I prick my ears to track the source of the sound. Then, I hear it again, stronger this time.
Opening a large garbage container, I discover, at the bottom, a tiny kitten trying to jump its way out. I can’t make out its color in the darkness, but its eyes are wide open and begging for help.
I try to grab it and can’t quite reach. The container is too tall. Jumping, I catch the edge of the container and press my belly against it. I teeter forward to reach for the tiny creature, but I almost fall in because—you know—gravity. Steadying myself, I find my balance and reach for the kitten again. As if understanding my intent, it jumps the moment my hand stretches toward him. This time, I’m able to catch it and carefully lower myself back to my feet.
The poor thing is all skin and bones, and it starts meowing at the top of its lungs. “Oh my,” I murmur, pressing the kitten against my chest. Beneath the streetlights, I get a better look. It’s mid-length fur displays the most unusual coat of three colors—white, brown, and black. “What happened to you, buddy? You’re so tiny.”
It just stares back at me and then starts purring against my chest. Tears prick the corners of my eyes. How could anyone throw this poor baby away? How could anyone abandon someone, period? I’ve been asking myself that question for ages.
I guess I have a cat now.
6
The Contract
Colton
In less than an hour, we’ll make it official. Jane Myers will sign the contract, and the two of us will start this whole charade. I’m still not thrilled about the ordeal, but at least she seems like a decent person. Plus, she desperately needs money, which ensures that she’ll be dedicated to this as much as I am.
I finish reading the last paragraph of the six-page contract my lawyers drew up and nod in approval. “Yes, this is good.”
“Perfect,” Max says, leaning back in the chair across from mine. “Sign your initials on every page, and include your full signature where the post-it notes are stuck.”
I do as he asks on all three copies before sliding the documents back to him. “This had better work,” I say, but it comes out as a grumble.
“I’m sure it will,” Max says. “I’ll start contacting potential investors in a few months, and we’ll gauge their response.”
Bringing my hands to my face, I massage my temples. I didn't sleep much last night. Of all the business deals I’ve conducted in my life, this is by far the most stressful. Because it means I’ll have to share my home with someone. Something I never thought I would be forced to do. But this is for my company, I remind myself. I built this business from the ground up with little money to my name and virtually no connections. Now, it’s worth billions. And I know I can make it even bigger. Growing my business—proving to myself, to the world, that I can do this—is the only thing that drives me. If I have to step out of my comfort zone to achieve my goal, so be it.
This will be fine. It’s only two years, after all. And anyway, it’s not like I had any plans to actually marry or even take on a serious relationship. As the thought crosses my mind, I can’t help but wonder about Jane’s plans. She said she’s been single for a while, but does she dream of getting married one day?
“Colton?” Max prods, one eyebrow arched.
I snap out of my thoughts. “What?”
“Agnes, have you talked to her?”
“Oh, sorry. Yes, I did. She wasn’t thrilled—Agnes doesn’t like people any more than I do—but she signed the addendum.” As my head housekeeper, she needs to be let in on the lie. She spends a lot of time in my house and knows me better than anyone. She would have seen right through the facade.
“Great,” he says, clasping his hands. “We’re all set. I’ll see you at your house in an hour to sign the contract with Jane.”
“Do we have to do this at my house?” I groan, my back tensing. “Can’t we just do it here?”
Max frowns. “Not a good idea,” he says, glancing at the door. “Too many eyes and ears.”
I want to say it makes sense, but all that comes out is a strangled growl.
He strides to the door, then turns back before exiting. “You’d better get used to it. She’ll be living in your house soon enough.”
I force a smile. “Can’t wait.”
I bounce my leg under the table in my home office, waiting not-so-patiently for Jane to read every paragraph of the contract. While I appreciate her being smart enough to scrutinize each line, the wait is getting on my nerves. I have a conference call with the Paris team in two hours, not to mention at least a dozen important emails to send. I could step into another room and take care of it, but my brain seems frozen, unable to focus, probably still in shock from everything that’s happening. All I can do is watch Jane read the damn contract.
Her eyebrows twitch a couple of times, she narrows her eyes, and she sometimes flits her gaze away for a moment, as if turning things over in her head. She truly possesses a natural beauty. I can see she’s not wearing any makeup because there’s a hint of redness on her cheeks and a small beauty spot on her chin. Her eyelashes are long, but not darkened by mascara. Yet her eyes still bear the same intensity as last time.
