Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Ithink Christmas is coming early for you.” Grace says as she sits down at the foot of my bed and watches me with wide eyes.
Thankfully, dinner came to a quick end and Jayson and Stetson left early.
After my run in with him on the upper deck, and the craziness of our conversation, we had avoided each other like the plague.
I was just praying for the night to be over so I could hide in my room and analyze the hell out of everything like any sane woman would do.
He hadn’t tried to say anything else in private to me, or get me alone for that matter, which was also interesting. And to be honest, I didn’t know what to make of it.
What was this mysterious clause he kept referring to?
This I want to know first. Because I have a lot of theories I came up with at dinner tonight. My number one being there must be something wrong with the family jewels. It’s the only idea that makes sense—that and some weird sex fetishes.
I don’t get to immediately start my obsessive thoughts because Grace follows me in my room, and I spill the beans before I even get comfortable in bed.
I tell her that he invited me on his yacht.
I intentionally leave out the clause agreement he mentioned because that’ll instantly turn Grace off.
For the moment, I want her on my side… until I decide what I’m going to do and honestly, if he’s even serious.
But who knows?
Wouldn’t he have connected with me before he left? Found a way to communicate something?
“Oh God! Why do you look like that again?” Grace mutters under her breath.
I stop frowning.
“I’m just wondering how he’s going to get in touch when he didn’t ask for my number.” I say, not really panicked, okay who am I kidding, I’m both freaked out but also hoping he follows through and actually reaches out. I’m a mess. A holiday mess.
“He has Devon’s number,” Grace rolls her eyes. “Stop worrying. He’s obsessed with you. I watched him stare at you all night.”
“He did?” I wish I didn’t sound so needy but who doesn’t want a gorgeous man salivating?
“Yes,” she huffs. “So stop. Enjoy it. Have wet dreams and we’ll reconvene to talk about what you’re going to wear tomorrow night on your way to get laid because there is no world where you are not going.”
“We’ll see,” I reply even though I do want to go, unless of course the clause is some weird fetish that I’ll have to say no to. But I can’t imagine it would be.
“There’s no, I’m gonna see, shit,” Grace says. “You’re not just going to see tomorrow night; you’re going to come. Night, Charlie. Goddamn he’s a hot one.”
She shuts the door without missing a beat and I bust out in laughter.
He is a hot one. Aghhh! It really is a damn Christmas miracle. I swear this is the moment I suddenly believe in Santa again.
He’s sexy.
Single.
And has a clause… let me just remind you, Charlie, in case you forgot that small bit of information.
I hop out of bed and walk into the bathroom and get ready to sleep—if I’ll get any tonight.
I’m fast and am ready to obsess about Stetson in bed.
I turn on the reading light and throw the decorative pillows off the bed.
Once I pull back the duvet and sheets, I’m more than surprised to see a long white envelope with my name perfectly written in black ink. Where the hell did it come from?
He came down to my room? This is the first thought in my head…
how did he get this letter here, under my sheets?
When did he just walk into my room? I know it could have happened, but I just can’t remember seeing him disappear for so long.
And even though I did my best to ignore him I couldn’t.
I always knew where he was or who he was talking to, so how could he have possibly had the time? Or maybe he paid someone else to do it?
Do you want to obsess about that now Charlie? Or do you want to read the clause?
I’ll worry about it later! Right now, I just need to know what’s inside the clause. I rip open the envelope and am relieved it’s only one page.
Can’t be so bad if it’s just…
Oh shit.
It’s formal. It’s definitely formal.
I, Charlie Lyn Horseman, do solemnly agree to keep all information—past, present or future—regarding Stetson Alex Nicholasen or his ancestors strictly to myself. Should I break this contact, the Nick Group will be forced to pursue damages.
I stop reading. Damages? What kind of damages? They don’t specify which makes it even stranger.
I keep reading.
By signing below, I accept that I am forever subject to the full extent of the Clause Law.
Furthermore, I, Charlie Lyn Horseman, vow never to betray Stetson Alex Nicholasen.
“Betrayal” is hereby defined by Stetson himself (and only Stetson), including but not limited to: violation of trust, confidence, or Christmas cheer.
Stetson reserves the absolute right to update, edit, and republish his definition of “betrayal” at any time he sees fit— up to and including December 24th, 11:59, North Pole Standard Time.
Failure to comply will result in coal, lawsuits or worse: removal from the Nice List.
I laugh, it’s uh, festive? I’ll give them that.
Maybe they’re trying to go with the Christmas theme?
Rich people are funny like that anyways.
I shake my head. I’ve stopped trying to figure out billionaires, kind of hard to solve their puzzles when they aren’t even aware milk cartons don’t really exist anymore.
This agreement requires Charlie Lyn Horseman to deliver in-person services for one holly-jolly night.
The specifics shall be determined by Charlie and Stetson, fueled by mistletoe, mischief, and mutual pleasure.
“Pleasure,” for legal purposes, shall include—but is not limited to—kisses, cookies, and Clause-related activities that may land one or both parties on the Naughty List.
Signed this day, Charlie Lyn Horseman— (Charlie Horse).
I read it five more times just to make sure I’m seeing this right. Oh, it’s right. Well…
I’m speechless again, because of Stetson, and he’s not even here. He already has that sort of hold on me and he’s not even standing in the room and yet, it’s almost like the paper holds his presence in a heavy way that leaves me breathless each time I re-read parts of the contract.
“It’s kind of hilarious,” I fight a smile as I look over the Nicholasen Family Clause again.
They even have a freaking family crest. How cool is that?
I can’t trace my heritage back the way they can and part of me is a bit jealous of that, the family ties, the heritage—what does he even really see in me other than what I look like?
Why am I second guessing it anyway? It’s a fling. It’s Christmas. He’s rich. I’m here.
It's one night.
It says it right here in his clause… one night.
It’s weird though. All of it. From top to bottom, any way you look at it—Stetson facing off with a polar bear—this is weird.
And if I’m suddenly going to look at it in another way, I’m leaving myself open for potential and seemingly inevitable demise at any point Stetson decides to change the rules. Kind of seems very unfair.
My phone pings.
I’m assuming it’s Grace, so when I see the name Stetson, I almost have a heart attack and even throw my phone away from me like it’s possessed.
It kind of is… first he got in my room, now he’s programmed in my phone when I never did such act?
Is this hot or stalker adjacent behavior?
What the ever-loving Christmas magic is going on?
My stomach drops to my knees.
I fully lose my stomach through the floor into the freezing ocean—or so it feels like.
And I’m not losing my stomach because I feel sick—I’m losing it because I’m so excited to look at the message.
He texted me, calm down ovaries, calm the hell down, it’s a text not a friggin’ marriage proposal or offer to father our future children.
Stetson
Hi, Charlie Horse. I’m hoping you found the clause.
That wasn’t the first line I was expecting…cute, but unexpected. Insert swoon here.
I quickly text back.
Me
Are you sure you want to keep calling me Charlie Horse?
Stetson
It’s cute.
Me
Donkeys are cute.
I can’t believe I write that.
Stetson
Yes, they really are.
Is he flirting or is he comparing me to a donkey now? Self-inflicted. Abort, Abort! I can feel the blush stain my cheeks. I need to redirect… fast!
Me
Your clause isn’t very cute.
Stetson
Don’t hurt my feelings, Charlie.
Me
Do you have any?
Stetson
Bags of them. Don’t worry though, I’m used to carrying heavy things.
Me
Cute.
Stetson
We’ve already established that you are. Sexy too.
Well… good… then.
Fuck.
Focus!
Me
Seriously though, serious adult non-fantasy-Only-Fans talk, what’s the deal with your clause? Do you have some deep, dark family secret I should know about, or I guess according to the Clause, shouldn’t know about… or you’re afraid I’ll reveal?
He takes a moment to reply.
Stetson
Nothing too dark. I promise.
Me
Then why do I have to sign something?
Stetson
Without the clause there can be no effect. Family motto.
Of course it is.
Me
Convenient.
Stetson
Sometimes… there’s a great weight that comes with all of this… responsibility.
I allow his words to sink in. Yes, I guess there is inevitably a great weight with having all the privilege he clearly enjoys and the heavy burdens that come along with it.
I joke, but just because a person’s rich doesn’t mean problems immediately evaporate.
If anything, they just get more complicated when you realize the people around you might be there to destroy you or to take advantage of you.
Nothing in this world is free and pain doesn’t discriminate.
Stetson
Will you sign it, Charlie?
Something about the way he says my name in the text makes me pause. It’s not necessary, it’s almost old school as if he were speaking to my face or writing me a letter not a text. He’s being purposefully respectful and acknowledging who I am and what this is. I’m not reading into that.
Me
You’re asking me to blindly agree to what I don’t even know I’m agreeing to. You purposefully left out a lot of details.
Stetson
Yes.
Me
I’ve made a lot of concessions over the years and the red flags haven’t been blowing as hard as yours.
Stetson
I like to blow.
Me
Are you being cute now?
Stetson
Just honest, thought you liked honesty?
I sigh and don’t respond back, at least not yet.
I nearly drop my phone when it starts ringing.
“It’s Stetson!” I announce to the pillows, awesome, at this rate I’m going to start talking to the walls.
I take a quick breath and answer it.
“Hi.”
I inwardly cringe.
“Hey,” His low voice cracks. “Am I making you nervous?”
Oh. Dear. God. My jaw drops. “Um, define nervous?”
“Mmmmm,” why the hell does it sound like he just took a bite of chocolate and still tastes it on his tongue? “Am I making you feel uncomfortable? Hot? Bothered? All of the above?”
“Option D, all of the above, then again I never was good at multiple choice.”
He laughs. “That’s why you always choose them all.”
“Yeah.” I lick my dry lips and sit down onto my bed nearly missing it and landing on my ass on the ground. “So, this clause, can you explain more or is it more or less a trust me sort of adventure?”
“It’s a trust me adventure but I promise you’ll always be safe in every circumstance.”
“Will there be a lot of those? Circumstances?”
“Damn, I sure hope so, it is Christmas and I’ve been… good.”
“Interesting, I’d think this is the part where you say you’ve been naughty not nice.”
He laughs, a full-on belly laugh. “Oh well, that’s all part of the clause too, apparently, I have to have the perfect balance of both, crazy right? It’s a family trait, how about this…”
I swear I hold my breath. “I’m waiting.”
“Take off your clothes.”
“E-excuse me?”
“Take them off and climb into bed. Trust me.”
“But you want me to get naked and—”
“—you’re alone, right? And getting ready for bed. Trust me.”
I put him on speaker. “Fine, I’ll trust you.” I start taking off my top.
“Use it as my bedtime story.” He whispers. “Narrate what you’re doing, you start talking and I’ll ask questions, alright?”
This is crazy. “Alright.” I gulp. “I’m taking off my shirt and hanging it.”
“Nice.” He chuckles.
Cold air bites at my naked body. “I’m walking over to the bed.”
“No underwear?”
“Sorry, I didn’t wear them.”
He hisses out a curse. “Naughty.”
I smile down at the phone and hop into bed. “Alright, I’m in bed. I slid between the silk sheets.”
“Are they cold?”
“Very.”
“I’d warm them if I was there.”
“Now who’s nice?”
“After I had my way with you on them first.”
“Naughty.”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of…” he whispers.
“Now, imagine, signing that clause is doing exactly what you did just now, trusting me just enough but staying in control, a little naughty, a little nice, a lot of adventure and at the end of the day or evening,” he sighs.
“Whether it’s me or my voice—I’ll be there and isn’t that what you’ve always wanted Charlie?
Someone to be there. To see you for you? ”
My eyes suddenly burn with tears. “How did you—I don’t know what to say, I, um, I—”
“—Some gifts, sadly, can’t be placed under a tree, Charlie. Let me give you one you’ve always wanted.”
“Sex?”
“To be seen.” He whispers. “Heard.”
He continues.
“Touched.” He keeps going. “Played with and in control, all at once.”
A tear slides down my cheek. “Let me guess, my safe word’s pineapple or something stupid like that?”
“Safe words you won’t need, but if it makes you feel festive you can just yell Santa.”
“Very funny.”
“Isn’t it though?”
I don’t know what to say.
“Sleep, Charlie. Think about it, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Not if I see you first.”
“You’ll probably hear the bells…”
“Huh?”
“Sleighbells, bad Christmas joke, sleep tight, dream of sugar plums.”
“I hope they dance.”
“I’ll make sure they do.”
“Powerful, knowing a rich clause and signing one.” I joke.
He says nothing and then. “…Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a goodnight.”
“I always liked that ending.” I admit with a yawn.
“Why’s that?”
“Because it meant he was coming back… Santa.”
“Beautiful.” He whispers. “Sleep.”