7. Contract

Cas’ pov

What the fuck was I doing? I asked myself as I stepped into the cold shower.

Was I actually turned on by how angry Ripley got?

Looking at the size of my dick right now, I would say yes. I scoffed. Small dick….

When she finally said yes, she’d see that this was more than she was used to. Maybe her dead husband had a third leg, though; who knows? She didn’t seem too upset about his death, though.

But who the fuck cares about that? She lied and then yelled at me! Nobody lies to me. If there’s one thing I truly hate, it’s a liar.

Ripley’s insulting me was the first time in a long time anyone had the nerve to say anything bad to me. It was kind of exciting, if it wasn’t infuriating at the same time.

I could see she liked me. She kept checking me out. And yes, I might be cocky, but I’ve been around enough women to know when someone is into me. And Ripley is into me.

So why play hard to get it? Why act like she doesn’t want to sleep with me?

I put my head against the cold shower wall. Why the hell did I offer her a million dollars?

Ten dates?! I never go on dates because I don’t have the time or the interest. A few drinks are usually enough to get a woman to come home with me. But actually eating with them and spending “quality” time? No. That’s not me.

Ten… God. What the fuck was I thinking? Let’s just hope it only takes two for Ripley to see I’m not such a bad guy.

I’m sure I can woo a woman like her. How hard can it be?

We might have gotten off to a bad start yesterday, but good girls always go for the bad boy.

And once she finally caves, it will be much more rewarding than if she said yes right away. For the first time in my life, I have to work to get laid. Maybe it would be a good way to end this chapter of my life.

One last conquest. One challenge before accepting my father’s offer.

And once I got Ripley out of my system, I’d cut her loose. And if she didn’t fulfill her end of the deal, then she wouldn’t get her money. She’d be fucked either way.

Either I’d fuck her in bed or I’d fuck up her life.

What did she say? Even if I were the last man on earth? Yeah, two dates tops, and she’d be puddy in hand. And then no more dates, so no money. Ten dates, or she wouldn’t receive a dollar. That’s what I would put in the contract.

A tiny part of me felt guilty. Like dangling a carrot in front of a very hungry horse. A pretty horse that needed the money. Her looks were growing on me. Even that short hair. Well, short, it came just above her shoulder, but in my book that’s short. I like to be able to pull on a woman’s hair. Consensually, of course. I’m not a fucking monster.

But she started this whole thing. Insulting me and talking back to me. She needed to be put in her place. Ripley needed to see that her actions had consequences. And most importantly, I always get what I want.

That is what makes me such a good businessman. There is always a deal to be made. I never back down until my job is done.

After I got out of the shower, I called my lawyer, Lucas. He is one of the few people I consider friends. While he would never insult me the way Ripley did, he did tell me the truth when I needed to hear it.

Mind you, he does it in such a lawyerly way that it didn’t come off as rude or condescending, but like he was doing me a favor. But that is what makes him a great fucking lawyer. Lucas can talk you into doing anything.

“I need you to draw up a contract, but it’s a bit unconventional.” I told Lucas over the phone.

He chuckled, “what did you do, Cassius?”

“Nothing. Offer a woman money if she dated me,” I said while laughing.

“Do I even want to know?” Lucas replied, and I could picture his head in my mind. He was probably shaking his head right now while grabbing a piece of paper to write some things down.

“So, ten dates, and she’ll get a million. But if she doesn’t go on all ten dates, she doesn’t get a dime.” I stated, realizing how ridiculous it sounded. But I was in too deep now. I needed to see this through.

“Anything else?”

“Sex isn’t part of the deal. But she can’t leave until the date is finished, or it won’t constitute a date. O, and the dates need to happen before the end of next month.”

“Because of…”

I stopped Lucas from finishing, “that too. But I am not willing to spend more time than a month on any girl. I’m just proving a point, see?"

Lucas stopped me now, “I don’t need to know. It’s your money and time. Just make sure your father doesn’t find out.”

“Fucker won’t notice a thing. That would mean he actually paid attention to my private life.” I joked.

“Great. And add a non-disclosure agreement?”

I chuckled, “that’s why you’re my lawyer. O, and I’ll pay for a caretaker for her kids when we go out at night.”

“She’s a mother?!” Lucas sounded surprised. Well, it was the first time I had shown any interest in someone with kids.

Kids weren’t something I had any interest in. Why subject them to this life? I’d probably treat them the same way my parents treated me, and they’d resent me just as badly. Besides, I don’t have the patience to deal with kids. They’re messy, loud, and annoying.

“Yes. She has twins. And a dead husband.”

“So you’re helping her?” Lucas asked.

“No. It’s complicated.” I replied, not wanting to explain myself. Maybe because I couldn’t really justify this to anyone.

It would be fucking ridiculous if I said it out loud. A cleaner insulted me and rejected me, and now I am making her date me so I can fuck and dump her. I had a weird vendetta against a woman I barely knew, and I normally would have fired straight away.

“Sure.” Lucas replied. “When do you need it?”

“In an hour. And while you’re at it. See what the hotel would cost to buy. It would save me a lot of hassle if I were the owner of this place.”

“Marriott Hotel, right? Okay, I’ll get on it. A courier will deliver the contract as soon as possible.”

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I still had some work to do, but my mind was elsewhere. With Ripley Sarah Hart.

My I.T. guys had found out everything there was to know about Ripley. Her dad died when she was fourteen; her mom was dating a criminal right now, and her parents-in-law were suing her for custody. She got pregnant when she was seventeen and got married when she turned eighteen.

Her husband was killed in action while working overseas as a soldier. Oliver Hudson was his name.

Why she didn’t use her husband's name is beyond me. Both her girls had their mother’s last name as well.

Did her late husband have no pride? You're supposed to take your husband's name once you're married, and you’re sure as shit supposed to give your kids their father’s name.

Fucking ridiculous.

Ripley moved here a few weeks ago and just started working here.

That’s all they could find, but it was enough for me to paint a picture of who Ripley was. Which is why I was truly surprised when she didn’t accept my offer at first.

She needed the money, and with what life had given her, Ripley had no reason to be so damn stubborn. If I wasn’t so annoyed, I’d be kind of impressed that she turned down that much money.

But like everyone else, in the end, she couldn’t say no.

I went down to the terrace, looking around to see if Ripley was already seated. I was early. Fucking dad and his rules.

She wasn’t there yet, so I took a seat at my usual table and waited. Staring at my watch while I sipped from my scotch that was brought to me.

I could hear her footsteps before I saw her rushing towards me. “I’m here.”

Looking up from my watch, I noticed she had changed out of her uniform into a dress. It was a black low-cut dress with short sleeves. She looked like she belonged here as a guest instead of the staff.

“You look pretty.” I said, taking another look. Her hair was less crazy, and she was wearing some make-up. The cold wind blew across the terrace, and I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples perked, making my cock twitch in my pants.

I motioned for the server to turn on the heater above us. While her breasts looked amazing in that top, I did not want Ripley to get sick. Mosty, because sick people are fucking gross.

Ripley took a seat across from me, just as the courier brought me the contract. “Perfect fucking timing.” I told the man as I tipped him.

“So, do you want to order first or read through the contract?” I asked Ripley.

“Um. Contract first.” She said, sounding a lot more insecure than she had sounded while shouting at me.

I handed her the document, and she flipped through it. “I can’t tell anyone?” she asked, after a bit of reading.

“Correct.”

“About the contract or about what we talk about during the dates? Or any of it?”

I handed Ripley a pen. “Any of it.”

“And if anyone sees us? We’re eating at my place of work.” Ripley looked around the room nervously.

“People are discreet here.”

“Or you’ll fire them,” Ripley added.

“Yes.”

“And you won’t be allowed to touch me?”

I nodded my head, “not romantically, yes. Unless you want me to. And you will want me to.”

She rolled her eyes and fumbled with the pen until she came to the part about her kids. “Why would you put that in here?”

“I will provide the best nanny or babysitter out there, so you can focus all your attention on me. Besides, I won’t want you to need to cancel because your neighbor or whoever you’d use cancels at the last minute.” I wasn’t doing her a favor. This just made things easier.

“I want to meet her before she watches the kids.” Ripley stated.

“Fine. Now, can you please sign that fucking document? I am starving.”

She huffed and puffed, but in the end, Ripley signed the contract and then handed me the papers.

“Good. Now.” I said, waving my hand to make the waiter aware we were ready to order.

I began ordering two scotches and several sushi rolls, until Ripley interrupted me.

“Um, no. I’d like, um." Ripley quickly looked at the menu. Her eyes grew wide, probably because she saw the prices. “Fresh mint tea and, um, the vegetarian roll, please.”

I scoffed, “of course you don’t eat meat.”

“I don’t like the idea of eating a dead animal. It has always grossed me out.” Ripley replied, closing the menu and laying it back down on the table.

“But you’ll probably wear leather shoes?” I argued.

“I’m not going to have a whole discussion about this. It’s my choice not to eat meat, and your choice to eat it.” Ripley acted like she was in charge of this whole fucking date.

We sat in awkward silence for a while until our drinks arrived. “So, you don’t drink either?”

“I need to work after, and it’s not allowed.” Ripley explained with some serious attitude.

Fucking hell, great start to this date. What do you even talk about during a date? My personal life? No fucking way.

“I don’t date often.” I started.

“I can see that.” Ripley replied, which made me glare at her.

“Sorry.” She quickly said. “I haven’t dated much either. Never actually. I met my husband when I was in high school, and since he died, I haven’t had the time to date, so..."

The rest of the sentence I zoned out. I stared at her while she talked awkwardly, trying to fill the silence.

Fuck, this was boring. Did I really need to listen to her talk? Wasn’t there anything I could say that would make her see me differently? Is there anything I could do?

Buy her something or…

Ripley waved her hand in front of me, rolling her eyes. “Really…?”

“What?”

“You aren’t even paying attention, are you?”

I shrugged, “I am.”

"So, what did I say?”

The server brought our food, and I started eating, dipping my sushi into some wasabi and ketjap. “You expect me to be able to recite that entire fucking speech you just gave?”

“It wasn’t a speech. It’s called having a conversation.” Ripley said, grabbing a piece of sushi and following my lead before shoving the thing into her mouth whole.

Then her eyes went wide and started to water as she had a look of panic in her eyes.

Ripley started chewing fast and swallowing hard, followed by her grabbing her tea. It was still too hot, because she could only sip. Instead, she grabbed my scotch and chucked the whole thing. The burn of the alcohol made her cough.

Fuck. I couldn’t help but belly-laugh. This whole thing was ridiculous in the most amusing way.

“It’s not funny. That was really spicy.” Ripley said, trying to catch her breath.

“It’s wasabi.” I explained, still laughing.

“My nose opened up, though. Like all my sinuses opened up.” Ripley said, before giving me my glass back. “Sorry about drinking your scotch.”

“No fucking problem.” I replied, moving the wasabi to my side.