Chapter Six
Harmon
I see his restraint all through breakfast. Not everyone would notice it, but I can.
He’s trying his best to be polite and well-behaved—another sign that he’s trainable and would be ideal for this position.
So, I ignore the little voice in my head that’s telling me this is a bad idea—for reasons I can’t figure out—and prepare my speech in my head.
“So, you said we should talk?”
I can’t help but grin at his innocence. It makes my dick hard.
“That is a good idea. However, and I apologize for this, but I forgot to ask if you’d be willing to sign an NDA.”
“NDA?” he asks.
“Non-disclosure agreement,” I explain. “As you can see—” I gesture around. “I have quite a business going on here, and it’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t know you. What we are going to talk about could ruin me, and I need to be certain that this information will not get out.”
He frowns slightly, but I can tell he’s thinking it over.
“This is only for what we’re going to talk about?” he asks.
Smart boy.
“For now. If we continue the conversation, there will be other things to sign, but right now, it’s only about what we talk about in this room, today.”
“Okay. Sure. Why not?”
I smile gratefully and get to my feet, hating how nervous I am. I don’t get nervous. Maybe it’s anticipation. Or excitement. It’s been a long time since I’ve come this far with a prospect.
I go to the phone and call up the chef to let him know we are through, and if he can come clear the plates. By the time I reach the table, there is a knock on the door.
He makes quick work of cleaning up the table, leaving the coffee and fresh napkins.
“Merci.”
He closes the door behind him when he leaves, and I pick up the folder from the table and take my seat across from Cassius.
The light shines in through the window, showing off how bright and clear his eyes are. When the light hits them right, they’re almost translucent. Very rare, and very beautiful.
I pull out the first packet of paper and hand it to him.
“Read through this carefully. You’ll see everything I mentioned will be in there clearly.
I made sure it’s readable and not a bunch of legal jargon.
” He raises a brow in question. I hold up a hand.
“Not because I think you’re stupid, but even I cannot understand half of what’s in those things.
I’d prefer you to understand it and read it on your own, rather than not understand it and sign it anyway. ”
Nodding, he goes back to the paper and carefully reads through each page. I pull a pen from my inside pocket and hand it over.
He pops the cap, but before he signs, I ask, “Do you have any questions?”
“No questions,” he says. “I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t trust anyone.”
I don’t know why that comes out of my mouth, but he frowns, narrowing his eyes at me.
“I just meant that I understand everything here,” he amends.
I nod, swallowing hard, and take my pen back after he signs. Then he hands it over.
“Do I get a copy of this?” he asks.
“Yes, of course. I can do it now or after we’re finished?”
“You don’t want to call your assistant and have him do it?” There’s a tone there. A little snarky. Cocky maybe. I think I’ve upset him with something I said, but I can’t be sure which thing it was.
“Oliver knows nothing about any of this. It’s extremely private. I handle it all myself.”
“Oh,” he says, sounding shocked. “Okay, well, later is fine then. It’s not that big of a deal.”
I nod and tuck the paper into the folder, behind the rest of the papers in here.
There is another NDA, and a paper explaining everything that he would be required to do—if we get there.
“So, what is all of this about?” he asks, sounding impatient. Or maybe it’s eagerness.
I should ask if he’s okay, if he needs anything, but I’m so eager for him to agree that I ignore it.
“As I mentioned at the club, I am looking for a specific and uncommon lifestyle. It’s not the type of thing I can find in regular dating. In fact, it isn’t dating at all. I don’t do relationships and I don’t do dating.”
“Then what is this? Like a Pretty Woman thing?”
It takes me a moment to figure out what he means by that, and I shake my head.
“No, because I assume you are not a prostitute.”
He laughs and the air around us lightens. “You’d be correct in your assumption.”
“We would have set hours for this. A schedule. One that would be adhered to carefully. I am a busy man, and I don’t have a lot of time for other things, so it’s important that you are not late and can be responsible enough to keep this schedule.”
“I can. I’m very responsible.”
I nod and continue. “If you agree to this, we will go over everything in detail. What I would expect from you, what you will not let me do, that sort of thing. For now, I’ll give you the brief overview of how a day in the life of my slave could go.”
He clears his throat, fidgeting before reaching for his coffee and taking another sip.
“For example, on a Saturday, I prefer an earlier day. You could start anywhere from six am to seven am and stay until the evening, probably after dinner. You wouldn’t be required to make my meals, but you will serve them to me.
There will be a uniform for you to wear.
A lot of what I’ll need from you is silence, submission, and listening.
You’ll do as I say. So perhaps I am working on papers for the afternoon, you will sit with me quietly, until I need something from you. ”
“This sounds an awful lot like a mix of you needing a friend and a butler.”
I try not to be offended by that remark.
“If that’s how you want to look at it, sure. Though, friends don’t get paid, and I assure you that your pay would be much higher than the standard butler.”
“How high are we talking?”
“Five thousand.”
A small choked sound leaves his throat as he says, “A month?”
“A week.”
“A w—Are you serious?”
“I need to make sure the stipend is worth the requirements.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “That doesn’t make sense. If all you want is for me to keep you company, serve you meals, and wear a fancy uniform, that’s not worth five grand a week.”
“Most of the pay is for your silence. Yes, there is the NDA, but paying you more makes you more willing to not mention any of this to anyone.”
“It still doesn’t make sense. What’s the catch? Am I going to end up in a satanic ritual?”
“Absolutely not,” I say firmly.
“And you’re sure this is not prostitution? Are you paying me for sex?”
“No, there is no sex involved, though there are health requirements.”
He stares at me like he doesn’t believe me. I’m not surprised. This reaction isn’t uncommon.
“Well, for that amount of money, I’d do it if there was.” He leans forward, pressing his forefinger to the table. “Sign me up.”
I watch him, trying to assess the situation.
I’ve had these go bad before, and that’s why I’ve promised myself to be careful.
I need to watch for the tells. Someone who is overenthusiastic doesn’t typically work out.
Someone who is guarded and unsure won’t work out either.
There must be a balance. Cassius is leaning to the overenthusiastic side, and it’s concerning me.
Yet… I don’t tell him no.
“You’d like to move onto the next step?” is what I ask.
“Hell yeah.” He gets to his feet. “Where is the conference room? Let’s go.”
“Hold on,” I say, holding my hand up. “Let’s talk a bit more first.”
“Not necessary. I’m ready for step two.”
“It’s actually step three, but I’m not. Come on. Sit. Please.”
With a small huff, he sits back down.
“Why are you so eager for this?” I ask.
“Uh, because it’s basically a dream job come true.”
“Is it? Have you dreamed of being someone’s slave?”
His cheeks turn a little pink. “Well, no, but I know it’s something I can be good at and the money is great.”
I take a deep breath, then say, “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I need you to understand that there is much more to this than you’re thinking.
It’s not as simple as ‘do the job and leave.’ We haven’t even gotten to the fine details yet.
This isn’t the type of job you can deal with for a pay check.
There are personality requirements and mental stability… ”
“I know that.”
“You don’t though, which is why I am trying to explain it to you.
I am going into this knowing it could not work out, because that’s what happens, and you need to have the same mind frame too.
If this is too much, you need to tell me.
Communication is important when it comes to this, and I need to be clear about one other thing. ”
“Okay?”
“This lifestyle isn’t typically a paid thing. That’s not normal.”
“Then why are you paying me?”
“It’s easier to make this transactional.
It’s less likely we will develop feelings if money and contracts are involved, and, though I said it’s not all about the money, it is enough of an incentive for someone to keep trying.
To push a little. It’s too intimate when it’s personal, and I can’t have that.
I need the paperwork and the NDAs and the contracts.
It’s the only way I can make this happen for me.
But if for some reason, you realize you love this lifestyle and we split ways, I need you to understand that payment isn’t part of it. ”
“And it’s that important to you that it happen?”
“This is like… therapy for me,” I admit “So yes, it’s best that it is this way.”
I don’t usually explain so much to someone, and I don’t know why I am explaining so much to him. Typically, I give solid and firm answers. With Cassius, I’m digging deeper. Giving him more.
He nods slowly. “I understand what you’re saying. I get you’re worried, and I can see why. But I promise you that I am okay with this. If anything changes, I will tell you.”
“That’s part of what we do anyway,” I say, getting to my feet.
“What do you mean?”
“We have weekly check-ins to make sure you’re doing okay. Shall we go to the conference room now?”