Page 113 of The Contract

“But you didn’t say no.”

I rub my temple.

Marcus hums knowingly. “You’re going on a date.”

I don’t answer.

“…Damien?”

“Goodbye, Marcus.”

“Have a goo?—”

He’s still laughing when I hang up.

I check my watch.

The other package I sent should be arriving soon.

I wish I could be there to see her open it. To see the surprise on her face, the way her lips might part slightly, the way her fingers would graze over the silky fabric.

But that can wait.

Because the real pleasure will be later tonight—when I get to see her in it.

The shower is scalding, the steam thick in the air as I methodically move through each step of my routine—washing, exfoliating, massaging lotion into my skin. This ritual calms me, resets me.

In light of everything going on, it still does the trick.

There is still a pang in my heart when I think about the bakery.

Soon, it won’t hurt so much. I know I’ll find something else.

I’ll still make my dream come true. It will just look a little different than what I’ve been dreaming about.

I step out of the shower, toweling off before wrapping another around my damp hair. Picking up my seaweed mask, I remember the other day when I was getting ready for our first night out with the Calloways.

It seems like a year ago, but it’s just been a week.

Damien came back to the penthouse, and I didn’t know. He nearly scared me half to death.

Before I get back to my skincare, I peek my head out of my room and call out, just to be sure.

“Hello?”

I wait. Silence is the only thing answering me.

And something unexpected.

A large, pristine white box sits on the kitchen counter, wrapped with a sleek black satin bow. On top of it, an envelope with my name written across it in bold handwriting.

It must be from Damien.

I reach for it slowly, running my fingers over the thick cardstock before slipping it open.

“Five o’clock.”

Signed simply: Damien.

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