Contractual Obligation: The Trilogy (2 page)

Natalie Cooper ran down the flight of stairs, her heart pounding as she rushed out onto the street. The row of yellow cabs that was usually there was down to two. Just as she pushed through the door, one more pulled away. Flagging the last cab, her arm up, she almost got there…almost, and then her heel broke.

Bending to pull her shoe off and grab the spike of her heel, she glanced up just in time to see her cab pulling away with somebody else in it.

“Come on!” Natalie reeled back and threw her shoe at the car, missing it by a few feet. “What the hell?!?”

People rarely paid attention in New York; she was just another person having a moment on an overly crowded sidewalk. Walking lopsided, she went and retrieved her shoe, trying to find a way to wedge the heel back on.

At least they weren’t expensive shoes. She couldn’t afford more than one pair of those. Pulling off the matching shoe, she tossed them in the trashcan. There was a discount shoe place around the corner. Thirty bucks, and she’d be out the door in another crappy pair of shoes.

It’s not like she could afford to throw another thirty bucks down the drain. Her credit cards were already pushing their limits, and the last thing she wanted was to waste money right now. If she didn’t figure something out soon, she’d be in a rash of trouble.

If things kept up like this, she’d end up having to rely on buses in instead of cabs. That was one luxury she wasn’t ready to give up yet. When she first moved to the city, learning to deal with public transportation was a trick in itself. Where she grew up, everybody had a car, and things were always within driving distance. If you had a car in the city, it was usually just a hassle, trying to find parking, pay for parking, and traffic was a nightmare. She thought she could do it, thought she’d just shuttle herself around, but the reality was that her car was better off in her parent’s driveway now that she lived here.

It was a leap of faith to move to New York. She’d signed on with a smaller, lesser known agency, but they kept her working at first. She’d envisioned fashion model gigs, but what she got was catalog work, and hostess or waiting staff jobs, where real estate agents hired attractive staff to pass out hors d'oeuvres as upscale clients looked at insanely expensive properties.

Lately the jobs had been drying up, and without much buffer in her savings, being able to make the rent was getting harder and harder.

Today was important. She thought for sure she’d land the job, but after a few shots, the photographer went off about his artistic needs and how she wasn’t right for the job. Just like that, she was finished. Grabbing her things, she rushed out the door, hoping to make it home before the rain started.
But as she walked to the curb, throwing her hand up and hoping to hail a cab, she broke her heel.

Here she was again, calling
for a cab in her new thirty dollar shoes, wondering what the hell she was going to do.

When Victoria, her agent, first told her about a possible opportunity, she scoffed. He wants what? Wait, what does it pay? She reconsidered. If she couldn’t make rent, she’d have to go back home with her tail between her legs, showing her parents they were right all along. She couldn’t support herself working as a model, and she should have stayed in college like they wanted. Only she knew she’ be able to
do it, felt it in her bones; and when she signed with her agency, she felt like she’d finally proven something.

Now, she was this close to having to give up. She couldn’t afford the New York lifestyle, or the prices that went along with every tiny thing. Her apartment was the size of a shoebox, and three times more than she’d pay at home.

“Come home,” her mother would say. “Settle down, get a job, live life how everybody else does. All that glitz and glamour is phony; you’ll never be happy.”

She’d prove them wrong. She didn’t care what the cost was, but so help her god, she’d prove them wrong. She’d make it on her own two feet, modeling in a world of glamour, and getting her face splashed on billboards and popular magazines one day. Then everyone at home who said she’d never amount to anything could kiss her ass.

As the cab pulled up, Natalie got in, giving her address. On arriving, she started the long trudge up the stairs. Her fifth floor walk-up kept her in better shape than schlepping around the city. It wasn’t always a walk-up, but the ancient elevator had a “do not use” sign on it since she’d arrived.

She could never carry up more than she could fit in her hands, which encouraged some savings. Dragging groceries up five flights of stairs was enough of a challenge. She could have found something on a lower floor, but in the city, decent apartments were hard to come by. Her shoebox was the best she’d found without breaking her budget. Well, until the jobs dried up. She hated the idea of having to settle for housemates, or getting a studio in a lesser neighborhood that
had bars on their windows for safety.

Flopping down on her bed, she kicked off her new shoes and rolled to her side, staring at the wall. Her rent was due sooner than she was ready to pay it, and she had no idea how she’d come up with the cash.

She’d already turned in her beloved smart phone for a stupid basic model, unable to afford the high monthly cost to maintain her data plan. The damn thing worked, but it made her feel like a child, pulling out an older flip phone that simply made phone calls or sent a text. She missed her apps, missed her games, and missed having the money to pay the bills that kept coming in.

Natalie pulled her thick locks back in a ponytail, and changed into more comfortable clothes.

Slipping out into the hall, she wiggled a key into her neighbor’s door. Mrs. Burton was in the hospital, and there was nobody else available to feed her cat. She begged her as she was heading out on the ambulance gurney to feed her sweet Emily, shoving her keys at her in the hallway, when she checked to see what the noise was about. She didn’t envy the medics that had to lug Mrs. Burton down five flights of stairs.

Sorting through the cabinets, she found the cat’s food and filled her dish. Emily peered at Natalie suspiciously, and then darted for the food bowl. “Hey kitty,” she said, bending to pet the cat, but it shot out of her
reach. Natalie looked around, and found the litter box in the corner of the bathroom. Making sure the cat had water and food, and the litter box was useable, she let herself out and went back to her own home.

She hoped Mrs. Burton was home soon, and she wouldn’t be stuck doing this for too long. Natalie had no idea what happened to the woman; she barely even spoke to her.

Her mind drifted back to the offer Victoria had given her. If she was chosen, she could very well be set financially for a while, but what at what cost? She’d give up love for security at this point. It’s not like she expected some Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet anyway. She was way too feisty and independent to fall for that crap. She was a realist, and right now needing to pay her rent was very real.

There weren’t a lot of details, and Victoria wasn’t given the name of the client, but was handed a list of requirements to sort through. When she checked them off, Natalie happened to be the best choice to fill the job…that was, if she wanted it. Her agency would get a nice penny too, so she hoped the girl would consider. “Let’s be honest,” she’d told her, ”You’re cute, but pretty girls are a dime a dozen in the city, and you are damn lucky to even get this kind of shot.” She wasn’t going to make it in the big time; she wasn’t tall enough, and she could stand to lose a few pounds if she wanted the more upscale catalog work. For now, she got the lower end jobs, because she had a great, inviting look; but she wasn’t high fashion material, and just didn’t want to believe it.

Natalie wondered how many others got selected for the potential employment. She had zero clues what her chances were, or if she’d ever hear anything, but she resolved that it was the best job she’d been offered in a long time. She’d be a fool to turn down that much money – even if it meant selling her soul, or at least renting it out for a while.

She’d never be able to tell her folks the truth, but she figured she could fudge the facts if need be. He probably wouldn’t choose her anyway. Lately, all the best jobs went to other girls. Victoria was nice about it, but didn’t push her as hard as she pushed her other girls. She was a big fan early on, but as the jobs dried up, Natalie was given less and less. Thankfully she had savings, meager savings, but they were draining quickly and she was going to have to dig into it if she wanted to pay her rent on time. There wouldn’t be enough to cover next month’s rent though, and she’d be in trouble without more work.

When the call came through that the mystery client wanted to meet with her, she didn’t know what to think. She wanted to be excited, but it would be a paid arrangement causing her life to change dramatically. Life would be on hold, until the contract ended. It was a five year deal, with a clause that if she ended it before the term was up she’d only get half of the settlement. He’d fill her in on more details when he saw her, but sent some basics through.

In the meantime,
if she was the chosen one, she’d get a monthly amount sent to her bank account. How many was he calling to meet with?

Was she the only one, or were there many? Would she recognize the other girls, and would it be a cattle call? Or would it be one on one, and what should she wear?

What kind of guy hires a wife? It would be for a few public appearances; there would be engagement photos, and a wedding. It was the weirdest job she’d ever heard of, but what did she have to lose? Time, maybe, but she couldn’t think of anything else. It’s not like she’d had a boyfriend in ages, and pickings for work were slim. She could do worse.

She hoped he wasn’t ancient, grey-headed, translucent-skinned, and wrinkly; or eighty-five years old, in a wheelchair, and drooling. She’d make a final decision after she met the guy. She could always back out. And besides, he might choose somebody else.

Sorting through her tiny closet, she shuffled things around, and settled on a simple black dress. Her satin heels and matching bag would dress it up. She’d wear her hair in an elegant up do; might as well impress the old guy.

Her instructions were simple-- be waiting downstairs on Tuesday, and a car would be around to pick her up at eight. They’d be dining together and talking business, a wife interview, if you will.

She wanted to feel butterflies, at least a little excited that something different was happening in her life, but what she truly felt was desperate. Had it come to the point that she’d throw it all away just to pay her rent?
Why not just hire yourself out on the corner and get it over with, or move back home.

No, moving back home was not an option. Then everybody would know she didn’t make it in the city, and would laugh at her for believing she could.

Thankfully she didn’t have to clear her schedule, it’s not like she had any other appointments. Falling back onto her bed, Natalie Cooper read a book, unaware that her life was about to change dramatically.

Natalie slid into her dress, letting it hug her curves. Stepping into her shoes, she gave herself a once over. She stood before the mirror, and ran the brush through her long hair one more time. Why was this any different than the other jobs she’s done? Why was she so nervous? She knew why, but talked herself down from the edge before she called her agent to cancel.

It’s not like she had a lot of other opportunities popping up, and if she didn’t do something soon, she’d lose her apartment. Taking a deep breath, swallowing down her fear of failure, Natalie shifted through her make-up, pulling out her favorite eyeliner. It was a deep black gel, and as she lined her eyes, she thought of every reason she shouldn’t be going tonight. She knew she’d follow through; at this point, she wanted to figure out who would hire a bride. It was pure curiosity.

Sweeping a dusting of eye shadow over her lids, Natalie realized she was holding her breath. Her shoulders were tight, and the tension was riding her. Exhaling deeply, she forced herself to breathe.
It’s just a meeting
. Picking up her mascara, she ran it through her lashes. She had to steady herself, gripping the sink’s edge. Her hand was starting to shake, and with each passing second, she realized it was a mistake. She should cancel.

Tossing her mascara back in the bin with her make-up, she went and sat on the edge of her bed. Could she truly follow through? This is insane. Was she really that desperate for money? What about her pride?

Natalie forced herself back into the bathroom to finish her make-up, drawing a blush brush across her cheeks, and adding a slick of lipstick and gloss to her lips.

Her heart felt like it would leap from her chest. She pressed her hand against her chest, as if she needed to hold it in place. 
Deep breaths, deep breaths
.

She was going to wear her hair up, but decided to let it cascade past her shoulders. Satisfied with her appearance, she paced around her tiny apartment, trying to calm her nerves.

The car would be here soon. He would be there, meeting her, asking her to spend time with him. Who was it? Why was he desperate to buy a bride? Was he hideous, cruel, and uncaring? Had he pushed away other women, or was he simply wealthy, and buying someone was easier?
Oh my god, I’m selling my soul
. Her stomach knotted. Why was she even agreeing to meet this man?

Tossing her keys, some cash, her ID, and a few mints into her small bag, she headed out the door. Walking down five flights of stairs in  steeply inclined stilettos  wasn’t a picnic, but as she rounded the final section of stairs, Natalie realized the only thing she cared about at this moment was the car that was coming to get her.

Thankfully it wasn’t raining, so taking her place on the sidewalk in front of her building, she waited for her ride. A black town car arrived, double parking. An older gentleman asked her name, and then escorted her to the car, opening the door for her.

“Thank you,” she said. It all felt surreal. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself before she gave away her nervous state.

As the driver got into the car, he made polite small talk, and then apologized for not having more information for her. He was hired to drive her, and knew nothing about the arrangements otherwise.

Dropping her at the given address, Natalie was greeted by a gentleman, who’d been waiting for her to arrive. Was this him? She held her breath, then said, “Hi. I’m Natalie.”

“Nice to meet you. Right this way,” he instructed, taking her through the main lobby of the restaurant, and then opening French doors to a more private dining area.

Her heart stopped on seeing him from behind. He was seated at a booth, his back turned. He had short, dark hair – he certainly wasn’t grey. Walking up, she held her breath.

The host gave a brief introduction. “You’re date has arrived.”

Natalie caught her breath. He was gorgeous. Why? Why would a man so handsome need to buy an arm piece – unless he was gay, and needed a cover? That must be it.

The handsome man stood to greet her, and introduced himself. “Natalie. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Michael.” He didn’t feel the need to add his last name at this time. His face might be recognizable anyway from all the pictures he’s had splashed in the newspapers.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. Good firm handshake, she thought, he’s sure of himself, confident, proud.

Sitting down, she let him lead the conversation.

Michael studied the woman in front of him. She was even more gorgeous in person. Regardless, she was willing to sell herself for the cash, so it’s not like he’d let himself fall for a woman like that. At least she would be good to look at. He loved how her lush locks framed her face, and those eyes – they had such depth.

“I’ve been instructed to repair my image,” he started. “That’s where you come in.” There was no need to bother with mindless flirting; it’s not like they’d ever share a real relationship, or even a bed. “My father owns a large successful company, and it’s been brought to my attention that I need to tone things down a bit.”

His gaze fell to her lips, pouty and kissable.
No, keep it in check
.
This is not one of your party girls, you need a stand-in
.
She’s not somebody I can move on from if I get bored
. He hated the idea of this entire stupid charade, resenting his father for forcing it on him.

She didn’t say much, simply listened to him speak. He was gorgeous, not some wrinkly
old man. He couldn’t be more than thirty, and he certainly kept himself in good shape. It was obvious the way his well-tailored Italian suit hung on him, framing his broad, strong shoulders.

As he spoke, she watched his body language, and every gesture told her something she was growing certain of – arrogance; it wasn’t confidence, it was over-confidence. This was somebody who was used to getting what he wanted. She tuned back in as he spoke of the business.

“We manufacture micro-dynamic insulators, and have revolutionized the industrial world with a more affordable, better component than they’ve used in the past. We created a small insulator that not only creates less movement, but helps reduce sound, making the floors of these plants quieter, bringing down the decibels of noise employees hear as they work. We use technologically advanced materials and…”

She was tuning out as he went on. He was oblivious that she’d lost interest after the first sentence.

“…and we’ve recently broken into the international market, exploding our growth. That’s going to be a big factor in the upcoming years.”

“Sounds…” she hesitated, bored to tears. “Fascinating.” She pasted on her best smile, and realized that while he might be a good looking guy, he’d have the ability to put a small village to sleep just by droning on with details that didn’t seem to matter. Maybe she should be more interested. After all, she may be his arm candy at some point, but she couldn’t force herself.

She picked up her fork and checked her make-up in the reflection, oblivious to his eyes on her.

“Really?” He was astounded by her non-reaction. All this woman cared about was her appearance, obviously. A dumb plumb, just looking for a paycheck; this would never work out.

“Hmm?” She looked up. “I’m sorry,” she said, not really feeling apologetic. Me, me, me, that’s all he talked about for the last half hour…he hadn’t even asked her a single question about herself yet. He was simply posturing, saying ‘look at me’.

“So, I’ll be traveling a lot, and you really wouldn’t even need to live with me until next year. All I ask is that you make a few public appearances, sign a confidentiality agreement, and move into my home after the wedding. If you want do get intimate at some point, you need to understand, my hand was forced. I have no desire to settle down. I won’t be monogamous, and that’s part of the deal. You’ll keep your opinions to yourself, play your part, and you’ll be paid handsomely. I don’t want a wife. I get plenty of gorgeous women, so if you are thinking you’re special and I’ll somehow fall  under your spell, if you’re thinking you’ll be a real wife and not a fill-in, trophy wife if you will, you’ll be fooling yourself. As long as you go into this eyes wide open, we’ll both be fine. Do you have any questions?”

“Do you?” She looked at him, wondering if he’d ever shut up. He’d been talking non-stop, and managed to make himself sound like a bigger jerk than before. She didn’t care for his tone, his condescending manner, like she was some employee, when she hadn’t agreed to a damn thing.

“Do you think you can at least act like you’re interested? If you don’t want to be here, I’m sure we can find hundreds of others,” he said. “In fact, why don’t we just call it a day? You obviously have somewhere more important to be. I’ll be in touch.” His tone was snarky.

“Did you ever even think to ask me something, anything, about me? You’re so self-impressed, you forgot somebody else was sitting at the table with you,” she said, and then stood, shifting her skirt, “Good day.”

Standing up, Michael started to follow her. “Sure.
I’m the one offering you the opportunity of a lifetime, and I’m the bad guy?”

Spinning around, she spat out, “This is the opportunity of a lifetime? If that means having to listen to a pompous man go on and on about himself, not giving a damn that I’m sitting in the room with him, no thanks.”

Michael shook his head. “I’m sorry, am I supposed to fawn all over you because you’re pretty? I’ve bedded enough pretty women to be less than impressed. So you’re attractive. Big deal. I don’t even want to get married and play this charade, but my career is on the line if I don’t get my shit together, so I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, princess.”

“Princess? You don’t know a damn thing about me. I’ve worked my ass off to stay in New York, and I don’t need some arrogant, rich fool to make me feel bad about myself.”

“Hard work, posing for pictures? Oh yes, it must be so strenuous,” he mocked.

“You’re an ass,” she said flatly.

Staring at each other, there was something in the air that sizzled. How was it even possible? They both stood, unable to move, only their breath between them.

Michael finally spoke. “Can we start over? Hi, I’m Michael Davidson. It’s nice to meet you.” He offered his hand.

Natalie stood looking at his outreached arm, finally taking his hand and shaking it. “I’m Natalie Cooper. Nice to meet you.”

In some weird twisted truce, the couple sat back down at the table and started again.

“The thing is, I’m not sure I can do this,” she admitted, tilting her head down. Looking back up into his eyes, she admitted, “It makes me feel cheap.”

“Just consider it,” he said. “I’m not a total ass.
You could do worse.”

“I could do worse,” she admitted, “and I really need the money, but I’m not sold on the idea. Thank you so much for considering me, but I think I need to pass.”

“Can I call you?”

“No,” she said, standing and walking away.

Back to the drawing board. His dad would be less than pleased.