6. Finalized

Rosalie

As I took the slow intentional steps towards my office, with my heart in my throat and my palms clammy from nervousness. I hope to God that Mr Sinclair showed up later than usual or didn't even come to work today at all.

I haven't seen him since he helped with the search for Grams. I was so scared when I heard she went missing. I remember going home and searching for hours on end. My mind kept straying to places I couldn't accept.

What if something happened to her? What if she slipped and fell... No, Rosalie!

All these thoughts became much worse when my mother told me that Grams was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and said it was my fault she went missing. And she was right. If only I had just taken up a second job or used the money I've been saving up for a house, I should have been able to scrap up a fair amount to pay for a retirement home for Grams.

I was so fucking scared of losing her that I didn't realize how much keeping her home could have been worse.

I got a bigger kick to the gut after she got home and I asked her where she went to.

I walk into the house and pause in the doorway, my eyes finding Grams. She’s sitting on the sofa, surrounded by medical professionals, a frown on her face. It’s clear that she doesn’t fully understand what’s going on, and it worries me.

I walk up to her and kneel in front of her, my hands wrapping over hers. “Where did you go?” I ask, my voice breaking. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“Mariah,” she reprimands me. “I’ve told you so many times I went for a walk. Stop asking me,” she snaps.

My heart dropped when she yanked her hands out of mine. She didn’t recognize me. Tears started to gather in my eyes, and I inhaled sharply.

The thought of it now makes my chest hurt.

The sound of a door closing nearby makes me realize I've been holding my door handle and glaring at it. For how long have I been zoned out?

I looked around and opened my door after I made sure no one was watching me. I stare at the glass separating mine and Mr. Sinclair's office, as if I'll magically be able to tell if he's inside.

That's the annoying part about this stupid one-way glass. He can see me but I can't see him.

I take the fact that since my substitute assistant isn't here that means Mr. Sinclair wasn't in the office. I checked the time and released a sigh of relief when I saw that it was eleven a.m.

I visibly relax before sitting in my chair. I don't think I can face him after everything that happened yesterday.

"I want you to become my mistress."

"How much does your grandmother mean to you?"

Chill ran across my skin as I recalled the conversation that led me to sign a deal with the devil.

I didn't care if he helped me find Grams. I'm grateful for that, but there's no way I'd let him use my love for her and trick me into becoming his mistress.

Who even does that any more?

Thankfully, that side of him that I witnessed, managed to kill a small percentage of the crush I harbored for him. I hated that my body still had to react to him in a way.

When I see him I'll let him know that I have no intentions of becoming his mistress. But for the meantime, I'll do my job and continue to avoid him till I'm mentally --

"Miss Maxwell, step into my office please," my body freezes as the sound of Mr. Sinclair's voice carries over the small device he usually uses to summon me.

Oh, bloody hell! Has he been inside all this while?

Just watching me.

I'm frozen in my seat for almost three minutes, "Miss Maxwell?" I dart out of my chair and out the door before my name is fully out of his mouth.

Knock knock

"Come in," he tells me from the other side of his door.

After I step in I see he's standing by his makeshift bar nursing a glass of whiskey. His dark hair looks tousled from running his fingers through it one too many times. "You wanted to see me, sir?" I close the door behind me.

"Why are you avoiding me, Rosalie?" He asks, going straight to the point.

Okay, Rosalie. Be calm. "I have not been avoiding you, sir."

"Really? Because if I remember correctly we had an agreement right here in this office, you went home and since then you haven't replied to any of my emails."

"I apologize. I had a lot of things to take care of." I tell him

"Hmm," he nods and then takes a long sip of his drink walks to his table, and takes his seat. His gaze fleets to mine briefly he points to the empty chair in front. "Have a seat, Rosalie."

He has said my name more times since I stepped into his office than he has since I started working here.

I take the chair and wait for whatever he has to tell me. "Sir, I really appreciate the role you played in finding my grandmother, thank you." He pays no heed to my appreciation and continues to dig around for something in his drawer. "But I'm afraid I can't agree to the deal you gave. I'm still open to working extra to repay the favor but I don't think I can become your-" I'm cut off when a small book is passed across the table to me.

"Sign the papers, Rosalie," he says referring to the contract in front of me.

"What's this?" I ask, refusing to touch the paper or read the content.

"See for yourself."

I pull the booklet closer to me and read the heading that states "CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT BETWEEN ROSALIE MAXWELL AND NICOLAS SINCLAIR." I skim over the pages as carefully as I can my eyes widening at every instance of the darn contract.

This wasn't a contract it's bloody ownership! I place the paper on the table, and despite my rising anger, I calm myself. I remind myself that he is my boss and I can lose this job if care isn't taken.

I cleared my throat and summoned the audacity I needed. "Sir, I can't sign this contract."

"And why not?" He asks haughtily.

God, why does he have to be so fine even when he's been a major pain in the ass?

"I-It's..." I searched for the right word, "Extreme. I'm selling myself to you if I sign this. And last time I checked you're married so this isn't right."

His haw hardens with a scowl, "Did you read the contract?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then you remember there's a clause that states you're of no accord to mention my private life during the tenure of our agreement. Sign the darn papers, Miss Maxwell. We both have jobs to get back to."

He's not even giving me a choice, "I-I am sorry, sir. But I can't, I'll do anything else."

Mr Sinclair chuckles as he gets out of his chair and walks to where I'm seated. His mouth hovers close to my ear. "You remember how fast I found your grandmother? How fast do you think I can make something disappear to get what I want?" Hot breath fans my cheek and my eyes widen from the shock of his threat. "Sign the darn papers, Miss Maxwell or I won't ask again."

A tear rolls down my cheek but I quickly clean it away. I scroll through the contract again gently rereading each clause and then pinching myself after to make sure it was real.

The cereal I had for breakfast churned in my stomach as I remembered certain clauses in the contract that stood out to me.

Rosalie Maxwell must be on birth control during the time of the arrangement.

Both parties must provide a recent STD test.

Rosalie Maxwell is under no account allowed to fall in love with Mr. Sinclair. The agreement is purely sexual.

Rosalie Maxwell is not allowed to mention their arrangement to anyone else.

Rosalie Maxwell is to be available when Mr. Sinclair calls. And is also obligated to escort him to any gala when he asks.

I've read my name more than twenty times in this contract it's starting to feel like it's not my name.

"What's it gonna be, Miss Maxwell?"

"If I sign this, I'm agreeing to become your... whore."

"Call it whatever you want. It's either that, or you lose your job and I make life a living hell for you. Choose wisely, Rosalie. Either way, I always make sure I get what I want."

My heart beats rapidly as I picture the scenario of being jobless. My family won't survive it, and with the way he's looking at me on sure he knows our predicament. He doesn't care as far as he gets what he wants.

And what he wants is me beneath him whenever he wishes.

Mr Sinclair is a very wicked man.

I pick up the pen and watch as it hovers over the paper, "Think of your family, Rosalie." He taunts.

"That's all I ever do!" Is what I want to scream but I don't. "If I'm going to sign this I want to add a clause of mine to the contract too." I stare at him, my gaze unwavering.

"Which is?" He asks.

"I want a monthly allowance of fifty thousand dollars. This contract is all about what you're getting. If I'm doing this I want something out of it." I don't know where the courage came from but I was going to use it while I can.

He stares at me silently for a minute, and I brace myself to hear him decline. "Agreed." He says, shocking me.

"W-what? Really?" I stutter.

He pulls the contract to him and then writes something on it before sliding it back to me. "Yes, now sign the goddamn contract."

I read the new clause he added - my clause and my pen came down on the paper as I added my signature to it.

Is this what finalizing a deal with the devil feels like?