Chapter 10 The Rules
Chapter Ten
THE RULES
Jessa
“Fuck you, Griffin West, and your penthouse made of gold.” I grabbed the sparkling water from his fancy fridge, poured it into a crystal wine goblet, and kicked off my shoes.
This might be his world, but I’d play by my own rules.
I cranked up my new phone and blasted the first angry-girl anthem I could find. Music filled the penthouse, and I danced around barefoot on his plush living room carpet.
This had been the pattern I’d been living my whole life. Never quite good enough. Never quite the right fit. The girl from the wrong side of Holly Creek who worked too hard and dreamed too big and always, always ended up disappointed.
I’d spent years making other people comfortable, putting my needs last. But I was so tired of being invisible. Tired of men like Griffin who would see me when it was convenient—when they needed something—but never really see me. Not the way I deserved.
I wasn’t going to beg him to notice me. Would not make myself fit into his pristine, controlled world by erasing all the parts of me that didn’t match the standards.
I spun in a circle, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows, the modern art that cost a fortune, and he life I’d never have.
“I’ll have this baby without you.”
The words hung in the air, brave on the outside, but weak in the middle. I suddenly stopped dancing and pressed a hand to my heart, wishing I believed them.
What the hell had happened to me?
Back in Holly Creek, I was the one my family counted on.
The problem-solver. The woman who kept the lights on and food on the table and never needed saving.
I’d raised my sisters, nursed my mother, worked double shifts, and still smiled through it all because that’s what Cole women did. We survived.
I never waited around for some prince to rescue me from my life.
Until the day I’d stepped into West Tower.
I hadn’t even realized the shift until this moment.
I’d walked through a portal into another world.
One I’d only seen from the outside, in movies or magazines or through the windows of houses I’d never been invited into.
A world where people didn’t worry about electricity bills or broken-down cars or whether they could afford groceries and rent in the same week.
Griffin’s world. The gold and glamour of it all teased me. And I’d wanted it so badly it hurt. Not just the money or the luxury—though I’d be lying if I said that didn’t call to me. But the safety. The stability. The idea that I could finally stop running on fumes and just... breathe.
I’d convinced myself that if I just tried harder, fit better, maybe Griffin would see me—and want me—and the fairy tale would finally be mine. As if I were Cinderella, and all I needed was the right dress and a little magic.
Forget that. I’d figure it out on my own. Just like I always had. But even as I thought it, my chest ached with the loss of something I’d never really had in the first place.
I drained the sparkling water, set the glass down with more force than necessary on the table, flat-out ignoring the coaster, and returned to his desk.
The contract stared up at me, smug and clinical. But it was the odd list of rules I read, with each line flaring more anger.
*The wife shall have dinner prepared and ready by 7 p.m. sharp.*
*Maintain appropriate physical presentation at all times.*
*Intimacy shall be initiated at the husband’s discretion.*
“Are you kidding me?” I cried out loud to the empty penthouse.
No, I wasn’t going to just walk away and let him think this was acceptable, that any woman would be grateful for the opportunity to be purchased like a piece of furniture to fit into a corner of his life.
For a second, my hands shook. I’d wanted proof he cared; instead I got proof he never could. The tears rushed down my face. I wiped them away before they could dry on his fancy desk.
“Two can play this game,” I whispered.
I grabbed Griffin’s gold pen. The words Mont Blanc appeared prominently on one end of it, like I should care, which probably meant the thing held some value. But it scribbled my words just as well as a plastic Bic.
**Griffin’s Original Rules** (scratched out and replaced by “Real World Rules”)
1. The wife shall have dinner prepared and ready by 7 p.m. sharp.
**Jessa’s Edit:** Dinner is whenever it’s ready. Eat what I put in front of you and don’t whine about it. You’re cleaning up the mess.
2. Maintain appropriate physical presentation at all times.
**Jessa’s Edit:** If you don’t like what I wear, don’t look.
3. Public displays of affection shall be limited to appearances that benefit the company image.
**Jessa’s Edit:** Public affection allowed anytime, especially if I feel hot and you’re in a mood.
4. The husband’s business shall take precedence over all social matters.
**Jessa’s Edit:** Your business might be important, but so is showing up for the people you love, like at every single one of Theo’s games. Balance, honey.
5. Intimacy shall be initiated at the husband’s discretion.
**Jessa’s Edit:** WTF? Intimacy shall be MUTUAL, FREQUENT, and preferably against a wall. Or the couch. Or the shower. Or your office. Any damn place I allow you to take me.
6. Emotional displays or dramatics are discouraged.
**Jessa’s Edit:** Emotional dramatics? That’s called COMMUNICATION, asshole.*
I skipped down a few…
9. Confidentiality regarding personal or professional matters is mandatory.
**Jessa’s Edit:** Confidentiality? Sure. Except my mom and aunt. We don’t keep secrets from each other.
~10. Failure to comply will result in termination of the agreement and reduction in pay.~
**Jessa’s Edit:** Termination clause: If you break my heart, YOU’RE terminated.
I sat back, admiring my work. The contract looked like a battlefield—inked out everywhere, my handwriting looping and defiant across Griffin’s pristine legal document.
Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I doodled a tiny middle finger in the margin.
I closed the folder and left it there for him to find—impossible to miss. I grabbed the permission slip, and headed to Theo’s school.
The museum trip was saved.
My heart, on the other hand, was a different story.