“What did he say?” I asked, unable to stand the suspense. If he called the police, they might take me to jail, and then who would bail me out? My aunt wasn’t really close enough to help anymore, and she didn’t have spare money. And having to explain…
I shuddered, mortified at the idea.
“So,” he said, drawing out the end of the word. Obviously, whatever Charles had said wasn’t something Vandal was sure about. “Charles thinks I should offer you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” I asked suspiciously.
“You seem to know a lot about my work.”
“Yeah.”
“And you aren’t making me feel like I need a bodyguard.”
I frowned at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You showed up here hoping to get a book signed and you haven’t screamed like you were meeting one of The Beatles, or fainted, or offered me marriage or sexual favors, or the honor of fathering your firstborn child. There haven’t been any death threats. I’m led to believe you’re a relatively reasonable person. And you said you were out of work and at risk of losing your apartment?”
Hesitantly, I nodded.
“Good.” He turned away, and I opened my mouth to tell him he was an asshole, but he turned back and said, “Sorry—that came out wrong. Obviously it’s not good you’re having financial problems. It’s just that Charles came up with an idea. I really can’t let you leave, as creepy as that sounds, but in exchange for you staying until the book releases, I can offer you food and lodging and some money for your trouble. Unfortunately, the money part will have to wait until I start getting paid for the book.”
“What does that have to do with me knowing your work?”
“If you read for me and check for continuity errors—that sort of thing—it’ll mean I can offer you significantly more than I would otherwise. Especially if you’re good at it and can deal with my tantrums.”
Reading his yet unpublished work for money?
I eyed him speculatively.
If only he wasn’t such an asshole. Did I want to commit to staying for what could possibly be months?
Then again, if I didn’t do it there was nothing to stop him from pressing charges and ruining my life, such as it was.
Writing was something I’d always been interested in, and I did respect his work, even though I didn’t like him as a person. My last boss had been pretty shitty to me, and I’d lived through it, so maybe a few months with this jerk wouldn’t be the death of me?
“How much are we talking?” There was no point in reminding him I didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to negotiations. We both knew it, but maybe I could bluff him into giving me something reasonable. If I was living here, rent-free for a few months and he was paying me even a modest amount, it could help me get back on my feet.
“Two thousand a month.”
Fuuuck. Two thousand a month, and no real expenses?
I opened my mouth to agree, but he held up a staying hand. “Before you say yes, understand you’ll be signing a legal contract agreeing to all my terms, including staying here and having no contact with the outside world without supervision. No phone calls, no letters, no video chat, no social media. If I go out, you come with me.” He sighed, as though just the thought of it was making him tired.
As he got to know me he would ease up on his rules, right? He was sure to give me some privacy eventually.
“Would I be allowed to use the bathroom with the door closed?” I asked jokingly. The way he paused gave me a momentary heart attack.
“If we’re here, sure. You wouldn’t be able to get out the window anyway.”
I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he sounded, but his eyes were stone cold.
“If I agree to this, you won’t charge me for trespassing?”
“If you agree to this, and abide by it, I won’t call the police and have you charged with trespassing and the theft of my intellectual property.”
I swallowed hard. There was no way he could prove I’d so much as touched his laptop let alone read things or downloaded them, but the idea of having to answer questions at the police station like a criminal terrified me.
“Okay. If there’s nothing creepy in the contract, I’ll sign.”
He grimaced. “What kind of creepy things are you expecting to be in there?” he asked, looking perplexed enough to make me feel more comfortable.
“I’ve been female for my whole life. I can’t even begin to tell you the kinds of creepy things a guy in your position might ask from a girl in my position.”
He arched a brow and snorted, giving me a fairly insulting once-over, as though I wouldn’t be worth taking advantage of.
“Yeah, I don’t want anything like that from you. Even if you were my type, I’ve never needed to trick a woman into having sex with me. I’m not about to start now.”
Still a bit annoyed about the dismissive way he’d looked me over, I said, “Let me guess, you can’t imagine someone not wanting you?”
“More like my hand is a lot less demanding than a girlfriend. I don’t have time for that shit.”
I nodded. At least we had that much in common. “Good. As long as we’re on the same page.”
He gave me another insulting once-over. “Oh, we most definitely are.”
Asshole. Maybe he wrote like a god and was promising to pay me a decent wage, but he was still an asshole.
Chapter 2
“You actually live here?” Vandal asked, nudging a section of crumbling drywall with his foot. The wall hadn’t looked like that when I’d rented the place, but the leaking roof had accelerated the aging process of my miniscule apartment. The landlord called it a one-bedroom, but the wall between the living area and the bedroom was some chipboard held in place with a few angle brackets. The whole ‘wall’ wiggled alarmingly if someone touched it.
“Not anymore, apparently.” I was embarrassed to have him here, but it was what it was—sad, and stinking, and filled with the sense of overwhelming loneliness I’d felt since moving in.
His eyes were boring a hole in my spine as I sorted through what I wanted to keep with me and what I wanted to put into storage. It was hard to hurry through this process, and having him hanging over my shoulder was making me feel rushed. The heat in my apartment was oppressive.
“You know, you don’t have to stick around for this. I’m not going anywhere.”
Swiping at my forehead with the back of my hand, I grumbled inwardly about my broken air conditioner. I’d bought it secondhand and gotten a glorious summer out of it last year, but it had given up the ghost during the first week of this heat wave. Scraping together the hundred bucks I’d spent on the ungrateful thing, plus the extra fifty to pay a guy from work to install it for me had been next to impossible. It had been nice while it lasted, but now it sat blocking the only window in my apartment, serving to remind me of the danger of wasting money on luxuries I couldn’t afford.
Like leatherbound books.
“You did read the agreement you signed at the lawyer’s office, right?”
I mouthed something disparaging about his imaginary sexual proclivities. Apparently, he was going to be a stickler for the fine print.