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That could be a big ask. “May I see the document?”
“Yes,” his voice lowers to a strong, unnerving burr, “but you have to understand, this is very strictly confidential.”
“Ok,” I tell him. My voice is sounding a little shaky.
“I’ll pay well, but before you can see it,” he produces a piece of paper from inside the binder and slides it across the counter in front of me, “I need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
I scan down the page. The terms are rigid and demanding. But, when he says he will pay well, from the looks of his suit alone, I’m thinking that could be a lot of money. By my modest standards, at least.
“How much is ‘a lot’?”
He shrugs. “A thousand dollars?”
I swallow. The contract says that I will not reveal any of the content of the material provided, not to any person under any circumstances, at any time, ever. A penalty clause mentions incredible amounts of damages and compensation if I break the agreement.
It doesn’t read like a legal contract to me, but I’m not going to say that to him.
What could possibly go wrong?
I take a Copy Copy pen from the dispenser on the counter, and I sign and smile. He takes back the document and examines my signature.
“Indi?”
I nod. He adds a date and folds the paper. My insides tingle and my knees weaken as he slips it into the inside pocket of his beautifully tailored suit coat.
Looking at his huge, strong hand, and the considerable bulge in the front of his pants, my heart skips and my breath hops. I feel like he’s put a part of me in his pocket. As though I’ve made a deal with the devil.
Then he lets me see the thick document inside the binder. It seems to be about the purchase of a license. From the first page, the language is clear and strong, but it is scattered with errors and typos. I think he’s taken solid legal advice, but he’s written the text himself. Which seems kind of brilliant. Although, also a little bit crazy.
“This is a mess,” I tell him straight. “It will need a lot of work.” As I lift my eyes, they meet his, and a white hot shock pounds through me.
He blinks, slowly. “Can you do it or not?”
“Yes, of course.” I need the money.“What time do you need it by?”
“I need three copies, corrected and printed, plus a copy on this drive.” He hands a silver USB stick to me, but he holds on to it and looks hard in my eyes as he tells me, “Work straight from the drive. No additional copies, no backup.”
He waits for me to agree before he lets go of the stick. “I need it at the Governor’s Mansion by ten o’clock tonight.”
I’m about to ask him for the address when he tells me, “It’s in Baton Rouge. But I’ll send a car.“
He hands me a card, but then takes it back to write a number on the reverse side. “My personal cell. Call me if you need anything.”
With a quiet power in his voice, he asks me, “Can I trust you?”
I’m nodding. And I can’t speak.
My panties are soaked.
Chapter Two
Adam
In the back of the limo, I watch colorful street life slide happily by outside, and I rub my chin. I had a storm of mixed feelings from her when she didn’t recognize me. Or maybe she just didn’t let it show. My public profile is a burden, but people are usually a little more, what? deferential, I suppose.
She didn’t even register my name when I gave her the card.
“Carson,” my driver is used to me rambling on as I decompress after meetings. My mouth is on full autopilot, “she’s so damned perky and impertinent. I don’t know how she gets away with it.” I’m reading, pulling up pages on my tablet. “Anyway, there should be a law against her looking like that. I’m not even sure if she was wearing a bra.” I stop and think, “If not, her tits are amazing. All of her curves are; I have to say that for her.”
