Page 25 of His Dark Pact
She turned the page with her reply, bemused at how easily the deference came to her. Maybe the hard times she’d endured had conditioned her to revere anyone with such wealth. Sitting in Kyle’s office was not the time for psychoanalysis, but she didn’t loathe calling him sir half as much as she’d assumed she would.
He stood by the dresser, sipping his drink and watching her, but she forced herself to block him out while she read his conditions. The second page had started to detail his expectations, and it was vital that she didn’t miss anything important. Her concentration trailed over each line, the tension in the room burgeoning even though no one spoke.
“Can you clarify what this line means, please?” She lifted her head to meet his stare.
“Certainly.” Kyle lowered his glass and took a step in her direction. “Read the line for me?”
“Okay.” She paused, her heart pounding faster as if she was about to portray one of Shakespeare’s finest soliloquies. “Clause seven. Mrs. Kendal will be responsible for all and any other duties Mr. Kyle deems appropriate for the duration of the contract.”
The sentence rang out in the room, the equivocal nature of the wording sounding no better than it had in her head.
Kyle nodded. “Lucky seven, eh?”
“Excuse me, sir?”
What was that glinting in his eyes? Amusement or something else she couldn’t put her finger on?
“It’s my lucky number.” He chuckled as he moved back to his side of the desk. “What’s your question?”
“Well.” She hesitated, having presumed her request for clarity would have made her ‘question’ obvious. “It’s quite vague, isn’t it, sir?” More like, it wasa lotvague. “What kinds of duties might be included in this clause?”
“That depends.” He sank back onto his chair, and for the first time, Amy noticed how he enjoyed the benefit of a comfortable, reclining seat while she was forced onto the hard surface of the wooden chair.
“On what?”
“On you.” His lips twitched. “On how we get on and where your skillset lies.”
For some intangible reason, the butterflies in her belly tangled their wings at the look in his fascinating blue eyes.
“Can you give me an example, please?” She couldn’t manage the final word that time. The sense that something about the moment was pivotal intensified the nervous and excited energy abounding in her.
“Well.” He tilted his head, musing on her reasonable query. “Perhaps I’ll need you to post a parcel for me one day or arrange a dinner party another. The role will include various tasks, Amy.”
“I understand.” There didn’t seem to be anything remarkable about his requests. She could do both of those things, so long as he was prepared to let her borrow one of his fancy cars. Fleetingly, she contemplated why the wording of clause seven was so obscure. “Thank you, sir.”
Devouring the remainder of the jargon, she was satisfied that everything looked correct. He’d provide her with bed and board, plus the sum of fifty thousand if she successfully completed seven days in the role. Certain that it was the best offer she’d ever had, she collected the pen and scrawled her name on the dotted line.