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I grab the envelope I left on the table, head downstairs and dive cleanly into the pool. It’s well past midnight now, and it’s actually my favorite time of night. The air is cool, and the water is a welcome relief. I swim twenty laps, feeling the tension in my muscles slowly start to dissipate. Climbing out, I wrap a towel around myself and head towards the lounge chairs where the soft glow of the lamp casts a warm, calming light.
I settle into a chair, the night air cool against my skin as I flip through the document to make sure my instructions were followed perfectly. I imagine her reading them, her expression when she sees the terms. Maybe she’s furious. Maybe it makes her want to rip the contract into a thousand pieces. I smile at the thought. I want her agitated, unsettled. I want her angry and fierce, unable to hold back. She’s so controlled on the outside, but I know an intense fire burns inside her.
I sit in silence, imagining the next month. The images are both tantalizing and immensely satisfying. Her defiance and the way she refuses to submit, is almost wonderful, a challenge I haven't felt in years.
Suddenly, I sense the creeping sensation of being watched. Slowly, I lift my head, staring into the dim distance where her shadow falls on the tiles.
"Are you going to keep watching me, or are you going to come over and say hello?" I ask, my voice carrying across the stillness.
She hesitates, then begins to move towards me. She walks slowly, and as she approaches, the details of her figure become clearer. She’s wearing a long red nightdress with a lace-trimmed slit running up her thigh. The way it clings to her curves makes it impossible not to notice her erect nipples pressing at the silky material.
Almost involuntarily I respond, hardening as I take in the sight. I instructed Greta to keep her wardrobe sexy, and this outfit, I have to admit, is perfect.
"I saw the contract you left on the desk for me," she says softly.
The fragrance from her skin drifts towards me. The air leaves my lungs, but I force myself to stay composed, to act as though I’m unfazed and uninterested. I take a moment to stare at her, noting how her hair is piled up on the top of her head in a messy bun, with a few escaped tendrils framing her face. She looks both elegant and dishevelled, a combination that makes my heart beat faster.
"Have you read it?" I ask, my voice neutral. "There should be a pen somewhere in the room, so you can sign it and hand it over to Muriel."
"Right,” she says, frowning slightly, “but there are some things about it that I want to discuss with you."
I can feel the tension building, knowing full well that another argument is coming. I reach for my own copy of the contract and meet her gaze.
"What is it?" I ask.
She doesn’t hesitate. "The part about removing any accidental pregnancies."
I frown, my expression hardening with surprise. "You have a problem with that?"
"Yes," she replies with a disdainful expression in her eyes. "Trust me, I have no interest in bearing any child of yours, but I don’t know how I will feel about aborting a child of mine no matter the circumstances surrounding its conception—even if it is as unfortunate as the current situation."
I say nothing.
"So, I suggest we ensure it’s prevented altogether," she continues in a rush. "I’m already on birth control, and am perfectly happy to go with the one the doctor suggests, but I want to use condoms as well. An extra barrier of protection for both of us."
"No," I reply flatly.
"What?" She looks shocked as if she can't believe what she's hearing.
"No,” I repeat.
She glares at me, and I hold her gaze until she shifts her attention back to the contract. I can see that inside, she’s close to bursting with anger. It’s such a sight to behold that I can barely contain my excitement.
"In that case, I refuse to sign the contract," she says, straightening her back. "I’d like to be taken back home."
I stare at her for a moment, then rise to my feet. Before I can even take a step, however, she turns and begins to walk away. In a few long strides, I catch up to her and seize her arm.
"If you don’t let go of me right now, I am going to sue you for everything you’re worth," she warns harshly, not turning around to face me.
I close my eyes, breathing in her scent. It sends me insane. God, I want to bury my face in her hair and taste the sweet curve of her neck.
"Let me go," she repeats, her voice trembling. There is fear in her voice.
It is like a bucket of cold water thrown over my overheated body. I release her immediately.
Instead of running away, she turns around to face me. "I won’t change my mind," she insists firmly, her eyes glittering with resolve. "And if you still say no, I’ll leave right now. Let’s see how much you can squeeze out of my father and me. I think you’ll find us poorer than we look."
The silence between us is heavy, stretching out for several moments.