Barclay will come around. I’m sure of it.
Once money starts flowing in, once he gets better care, he won’t call me a whore.
He might even be grateful that I accepted the invitation, even though it means going against his orders.
As I step into my bedroom, I whisper to myself, “Everything will be okay. It has to be.”
At the end of my bed, I finally slow to a stop. My heart races, cheeks hurting from the wild smile that’s taken over them.
I place the crumpled papers on my white bedspread and bend to lift the mattress.
The invitation is waiting there, just like it was earlier when I got home from work.
It’s something I’ve been doing daily, checking up on it. Though Barclay can hardly get out of bed and is high on pain meds half the time, he can still walk. I can’t tell what he does here while I’m away.
Ever since he broke the key inside the lock of my bedroom, I have no way of keeping him out either.
But my lack of privacy isn’t important anymore.
This matters. I grab the invitation and rush to the phone charging on my bedside table, adding the number from the back to my contacts.
With shaky hands, I open a text window and start typing a message that isn’t a simpleyes. It can’t be, since my future employer has to accept my terms. Otherwise, I won’t be able to leave Barclay.
I write and erase the message more times than I want to admit.
That phrasing is too docile. That one’s too sharp. The other is too demanding.
What do you say to a man you’ve never met? How do you negotiate when you’ve only ever done it once and failed?
“To hell with it,” I mutter. “It’s just a text.”
Nodding to myself, I silence the ugly whispers telling me I’m not good enough and type without deleting a single thing, leaving out my tax issues. I have sixty days to figure it out. I’ll deal with it when I get there. When The Restorer and I are friendly, chatting over art and working together.
When I’m done, I read my text just to make sure I wrote everything down.
Me:This is Elowyn Montgomery. I accept The Restorer’s invitation only if my brother has live-in nurses with him around the clock. And a doctor to adjust his meds when needed. You’ll make sure his prescriptions are filled too. Sorry. Thank you.
I hit send before I can think better of it. Slam my eyes shut. What was I thinking, asking for all of this?
The compensation I was promised is more than I ever could’ve dreamed of. If fulfilled, these requests would be another small fortune my future employer would have to bear.
He’s going to say no. He will, and we’ll be out on the street.
Three dots flash on my screen. There and gone. There and gone.
Oh God. Oh God.
Can’t he just say no and put me out of my misery?
I’m so consumed by dread that when his text pops up, I have to read it twice.
The Restorer:You have yourself a deal, Miss Montgomery. A black Mercedes will be waiting outside your gates in ten minutes. Shred this invitation, leave your phone at home, and delete these messages and this number, in case you added it to your contacts. Last but not least, don’t pack. Anything you might need will be provided upon arrival.
A watery laugh escapes me as the meaning of his words becomes clear.
He said yes. He actually agreed to my over-the-top terms.
I’m about to hop up and down with excitement when a dose of reality hits me.
