Chapter 5

Cradled by the softness of the high-threaded sheets and the release of tension from my body, I drift into deep slumber. Did I just have the best night of my life? The morning light floods the room, and as I stretch, my mind replays the events of the previous night. 

"You're up!" His voice cuts through the air as he emerges from the bathroom. "We need to talk." His tone is direct and devoid of emotion, and those words strike a chord of unease in me. I know what is coming. No harm, no foul, I remind myself. After all, we are both adults, and I am newly single.

I walk towards him, sinking into a chair next to him. I can feel Nathaniel’s observant eyes watching me, sensing a shift in my demeanor.

"Last night was unexpected, but I hope you don’t think I took advantage of you.”

"No, you dint. I told you I am a big girl. I knew what I was doing." I clarify.

Nathaniel hands me some papers before clearing his throat, preparing to divulge more information. "Before you read that, you should know who I am," he begins. "My name is Nathaniel Welsh Coven." He pauses, gauging my reaction, and watches as realization slowly dawns on me.

"You mean Andrew Welsh?" I whisper. The implications begin to sink in, stirring a mix of emotions—I get frantic, angry, and confused.

"Wait, you know who I am!" My accusation hangs in the air. My eyes search for answers that remain elusive.

"Andrew is my brother's son," Nathaniel reveals. "His actions have been causing me increasing trouble. I had him monitored, and that's how I came to know about you."

"Did you follow me to the club that night?" My frustration is evident.

"I was there to meet a friend who didn't show up. I honestly didn't know who you were until you joined me," Nathaniel explains calmly, his gaze steady. He knows I might doubt him, but he remains resolute in his intentions, whatever they might be.

"Listen, Mr. Welsh," I begin, mustering respect despite my growing discomfort. "I have no information to give you about Andrew; I barely know him, let alone his family." I realize what a farce my relationship was. Now I feel foolish and used.

"It's Coven, and I don't expect you to provide me with any information about Andrew. I would like to keep seeing you, Megra.”

I am confused by his words. I don’t know how to react to this. I look at him, waiting for more information, which he cordially gives.

"You can read the contract. If you choose to stay, sign it. Otherwise, you have a week to decide."

I nod my head, indicating that I understand what he is saying. I am lost for words, but I am already contemplating the idea.

“I've left a new phone for you with my number." "Text me your decision. A car will pick you up later if you decide to leave."

I still can't muster any words.

Nathaniel searches my face; his gaze is soft. He understood what he had done. There is no way you can look at this situation where he has not taken advantage of me. With that, Nathaniel concluded the conversation, kissing my forehead and leaving the room to go get ready.

I sit there dumbfounded. I cannot fathom the audacity of this man—after lying to me, he still withheld crucial information. What does he truly want? What could I possibly give him? If it were to date, there would be no need for a contract.

A wave of emotions rushes through me as my eyes tear through the document, a mix of shock and confusion swirling throughout my body. An insatiable thirst to scream consumes me as I absorb the stipulations outlined in the contract. Nathaniel has made it clear he is not after information but something entirely else, and the realization sends a chill down my spine.

Unraveled, I sit on the edge of the bed, the papers in my hand feeling heavier with each passing moment. I read through the document again, this time slower, and my heart is pounding. I can see the bolded letters: child, marriage, behavioral conditions. The thought of it makes my stomach churn with disgust and fluttery from Nathaniel.

I place the three-page contract on the bed and stand up, feeling the need to wash away the stink of desperation that seemed to cling to me. I knew I would most likely sign it, but I needed time. Stepping into the shower, the hot water cascading over my body, I tried to clear my racing mind. I put on the skimpy dress that is coated with regret and possibility. The fabric is now feeling foreign and uncomfortable against my skin.

I waited for the driver, eager to get to my own space but grateful for the few days of relief. Whatever decision I made, I needed to face Andrew one last time.