The Contract by Sandy Holden Page A

several events in the last year and you absolutely cut me—acted like I was invisible.  I’ve always wanted to know—was that intentional?”
    I sighed and let my head fall back on the back of the couch. “I don’t really remember.  You’re right when you said I didn’t pay attention to anything.  Maybe I did.  You had a wicked mean reputation, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to go up against you.”
    “I spent the last nine months or so setting you up.  I knew I’d never have you any other way.  I’m not someone you would ever be seen with.”
    I thought about that.  Yeah, he was probably right.  I only went out with guys who impressed me with their sterling manners and flawless good looks. “So you got me.  Got me and used me like a sex toy for what? Three months now?  What did you think would happen?  That I’d live with you for a few weeks and fall in love with you?  That’s not how it works.”
    Cray nodded slowly.  “Then there’s no reason to continue with this.”
    “This?”
    “You’re free to go.  Your bank account will be ample enough for you to do whatever it is you’d like to do.”
    I could not believe it.  I was free.  I felt…slightly nauseous.  I’d been counting on the six months.  I liked the stuff we did, liked my life here and even liked Cray.  I’d never find anyone like him, that was for sure.  But did I want to be dominated like this for the rest of my life?
    “What if I said I only wanted vanilla sex?”
    He looked wary, as if this was a test he didn’t understand. “Is that what you want?”
    “It’s a theoretical, work with me, Cray, okay?”
    “Then that’s what we’d do.  It’s not like we never do that.”
    “And what if I said I wanted to travel—go to Europe and stuff?”
    “I said you were free to go.”
    I blew out a frustrated breath.  “Cray, I mean if I stayed.  That is what you’re angling at, isn’t it?  Because if I have—horrors of horrors—become boring then I’ll be out tonight.  I have a feeling once you got me I probably wasn’t what you expected.”
    He sat forward.  “You were stronger than I expected, much stronger.  And you were and are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.  I understand I’m not considered handsome—”
    I interrupted—he hated when I interrupted and I felt a little thrill like I always did when I challenged him.  “You’re handsome, so shut yer trap on that one.”
    He continued, “And I know I’m possibly OCD—”
    “Possibly?” I hooted.  “Your picture is in the dictionary under the word controlling.”
    This time a fissure of irritation crossed his features. “And I don’t treat a woman as she is, according to society dictates, supposed to be treated.  I’m not an easy person—”
    “No!” I said with overdone disbelief.  “Who said that?  What bologna!”
    His voice assumed that cool I’m-gonna-hurt-you-so-stop-pissing-me-off tone.  I smiled inwardly.  “Alyssa, you know I don’t like to be interrupted.”
    “Oh, well, jeez, I forgot.  Let’s see—you were naming your good qualities?  Let me throw in a few: you’re attentive.  I always feel needed and wanted.  We have the same taste in movies and what should be done with bitches.  You’re rich as shit—I know that shouldn’t matter to someone with my vast marketable skills but it does.  You’re incredibly inventive in bed.  You make me hot just sitting there looking pissed off because I interrupted you.”
    Cray began to say something but I put up my hand. “Wait.  I’m not done and interrupting is rude.”  My sassy smile faded as reality came back.  “Cray, I can’t just continue living in your apartment and being your whack-a-mole.  I wish I could but I see more for myself in life than that.”
    Cray stood and left.  I looked after him.  “Nice people say ‘good-bye’ when they leave a room.”
    He was back in a minute with a box, which he tossed to me.  I looked at it.