“Two weeks is generous,” Rahul’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Standard is one.”
“Two is fine,” I cut in before Elena can negotiate. If Jess needs to bail because I fuck this up, she shouldn’t have to worry about money while she finds something else.
Whenshe finds something else.
Because she will leave eventually. They all do. Matilda lasted eight months and that was a record.
Jess will last maybe six before she realizes working for me is soul crushing and Ben’s anxiety is a full time job and this whole situation is a disaster waiting to implode.
The thought sits in my chest like a stone.
Elena starts refining the language. She’s surgical about it, tightening phrases and adding qualifiers. “No meetings in bedrooms or the primary suite. After hours debriefs only in common areas with the door open and another adult on premises.”
Another adulton premises.
Translation: don’t be alone with her behind closed doors or you’ll do something stupid.
Fair.
Though the wily part of me wonders just how enforceable that clause will be...
“Kid content boundaries need teeth,” Elena continues, typing as she talks. “No images, video, or audio recordings of the minor. No posting about daily activities in a way that could identify location or routine. No use of the minor’s name or likeness for commercial purposes.”
Jess is nodding along. She gets it. Of course she gets it. She built a whole career on content and metrics and the algorithm. She knows exactly how invasive that world can be.
She leans forward to read something Elena’s pointing at and her blazer gapes just enough. The shadow of cleavage. The edge of a bra. Black lace maybe. My hands fist under the table. I want to reach across and pull that blazer open and suckle those fucking gorgeous tits. Want to see if she’s wearing the same black cotton bra from her apartment or if she upgraded for this meeting. Want to find out if her panties match. Want to peel them off with my teeth and taste her until she forgets every word of this fucking contract.
“The IP carve out is broad enough,” Amara says, scanning the document Elena just pushed across the table. “Jess keeps ownership of anything she develops. If she creates curriculum or content as part of this role, that’s a separate discussion with separate compensation.”
“Agreed,” I say yet again.
I sound like a fucking robot.
But what else can I say? That I want her here notjust because Ben needs stability but because I can’t stop thinking about her? That hiring her is the worst idea I’ve ever had and also the only one that makes sense?
That’s not going in the contract.
Elena prints two copies. Slides one to Jess, one to me. “Review and initial each page. Sign the last.”
I pick up the pen Elena provided and pretend to read every word, because I already know what it says. Jess seems to be actually reading it, though. She bites her lower lip while she scans the pages. Worries it between her teeth. I remember that lip. How it felt when she bit down on my shoulder to muffle her screams. How it would feel if she bit me again. Harder this time. Leaving marks I’d have to hide but wouldn’t want to.
The room is silent except for the sound of pages turning and pens scribbling initials. Through the window I can see the city moving. Taxis and pedestrians and people living normal lives where they don’t have to negotiate contracts with the woman they slept with two nights ago.
Lucky bastards.
I reach the signature page and pause. I stared at the pen in my hand. It’s heavy. Expensive. The kind of pen that signs deals worth millions.
This one is worth more.
This one is Ben’s routine. Her sense of safety. The scaffolding that keeps her world from collapsing.
I sign my name. Marco Alessandro Fiore. The ink is dark against the white paper.
Jess signs hers on the copy across the table. Her handwriting is rounder than mine. Feminine. The little loop on the J catches my attention for longer thanit should.
Elena and Amara witness. Rahul confirms via email that he’s received the fully executed version for payroll setup.
Done.
