“I understand if I do anything to displease my master, he reserves the right to disclaim me as his servant at any time throughout my year-long contract.”
Section 29, Clause 3:
“I understand if none of the Matthews claim me as their servant, I will make it my primary duty to serve all four of them at their individual requests. I also understand it is my sole responsibility to present myself to the Matthews in such a way that will appeal to them, and if none see me fit to claim, either my end-of-year bonus will be cut in half or my time at Matthews House will be terminated.”
My eyes have almost glazed over by the time I reach the final clause.
Section 42, Clause 4:
“I understand anything done, seen, or heard within the walls of Matthews House during my contract is bound by complete confidentiality laws, and my full discretion is required. If I, Emmy May Highland, do anything to hint at the activities I may observe or partake in at Matthews House, this will result in my end-of-year bonus being rescinded, and matters will be further taken at the will and discretion of Matthews House, Inc. however they deem fit.”
The Matthews.
I swallow the knot in my throat. The more times I read the name, the more it feels like invisible handcuffs cutting into my wrists. Handcuffs. Restrictions. I’ve never been able to stomach the idea of being confined.
Despite the name not ringing with any familiarity, something about it twists in the pit of my stomach. It had been difficult enough convincing myself to commit to something like this back at home, when I didn’t have a name to pair with the creepy title ‘master’ and I wasn’t sitting on their expensive leather. But now ...
The lines of my printed name and signature at the bottom of the form are squiggly enough to look like a five-year-old’s. I can’t stop my hands from shaking at the finality of it all.
This is it. There’s no halfway, no probationary period. Once I hand this contract over, I’m all in.
Which, if I do this right, also means answers. It means finding Frankie, being able to see with my own two eyes that she’s okay. And maybe in the process some of the guilt will lift enough so I can breathe again.
The reminder helps calm my pulse.Frankie. She’s what matters. She’sallthat matters.
I shut my brain off and give the papers to the woman beside me. Stella fills in the bottom section, then stores them in the briefcase and stands. She extends her hand. “Shall we venture onto phase two?”
I take her hand and rise. “Phase two?”
She smiles. The too-perfect curve of her red lips sends goose bumps up my arms. “I’ll escort you to the ladies’ quarters where you’ll be groomed and prepped for an introduction with the Matthews. This is your chance, Emmy. Your chance to be claimed.” She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, then opens them again as she releases the breath. “I’ll always remember my first time being claimed.”
A dreamlike spark flits through her doe eyes as if she’s lost in another moment, and it makes me take a step back.
Oh, Frankie. What the hell did you get yourself into?
