Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
ELODIE
Smoothing my hands down my jeans, I look around and wonder not only if I'm in the right place, but if I’m even in the right city. One thing is for certain: I might actually be dressed up for this meeting, and here I was, worried I’d be too dressed down—I needn’t be.
But aside from all that, I can’t imagine this is where I am supposed to meet my client. Well, prospective client. Looking back at my car, I wonder what would happen if I just climbed inside and drove away.
Would the man who stopped me at the front gate not open it for me?
Would they try to keep me here until I did what they wanted, demanded?
Am I getting myself into some serious shit?
My heart begins to race, no, it gallops. Is that a thing? Do hearts gallop? Because if they do, that’s exactly what’s happening to me right now. My heart is getting ready to take off, leaving my body behind.
My life flashes before my eyes, which is really sad because I’ve lived a pretty pathetic existence.
My sister is the one who has a whole life.
A great one, actually. She’s thirty-one, married, a nurse, and has two kids.
She does it all. My niece and nephew are great, too.
One is two, and the other is almost one.
That being said, we were raised by different parents. She by her father and I by our mother. We aren’t that close, even though I wish we were. I can’t blame her for keeping her distance, though. She’s built a beautiful life, whereas I was raised in hell.
There’s me, the complete opposite of her, single, no kids, and while I started my own cleaning business, it does well enough to put food on the table and pay my rent, but I’m not going to be lavishing myself with Dior or anything similar anytime soon.
I take a step forward, then stop again, my breathing coming out in short pants. I’m not sure what to do here, and every second that I stand out here in the hot-as-hell desert sun, I get a little bit more lightheaded and ready to climb back into my crappy eleven-year-old Ford Fiesta.
Before I can work up enough courage to take another step, the door to the rundown building in front of me flies open. I watch as a man steps out. Squinting, I lift my hand to shade my eyes so I can attempt to see better.
Although I don’t have to because he continues to move toward me one step after another until he is so close to me I can smell him. Leather, oil, and… cigarette smoke. Tilting my head back, I look up into his face.
His lips are pressed together in a thin line as he looks down at me. A grunt escapes his lips, his eyes searching mine, and then he grins. My god. He’s absolutely amazing.
Gorgeous.
Breathtakingly gorgeous.
Seriously. I can’t breathe, and it’s not just because I’m scared shitless. Because I am that. Scared absolutely shitless. But at the same time, he’s so beautiful I can’t look away from him. Call it charisma, call it whatever you want, but this man, no doubt, has broken a million hearts.
His cropped dark hair, his gold eyes, his short beard… so damn sexy.
“You the cleaner?” he asks.
His voice is dripping with sex and honey. He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging. I open my mouth to confirm I am, but nothing comes out. Not a single word.
He chuckles. “I’m Wrath. Come on inside, and we can go over everything.”
Then he does something I don’t expect. He stretches out his arm, his palm facing up, and he waits. Flicking his gaze down to his hand, he then shifts it back up to meet mine… waiting. I take the bait, if it’s bait. I don’t know, and I’m not sure I care.
At this point, I don’t know how I can even breathe, let alone walk. But I lift my hand and place my fingers in his waiting palm. Then my feet move, and I follow behind him. I walk into his world.
The room is dark when I walk through the doorway. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust, but I don’t get the time because his fingers flex a little harder, and he gently tugs me behind him as he continues moving. I don’t know where we’re going, but it’s apparently in a hurry.
Well, that is, until he stops.
There is a closed door in front of us, and only then does he release his grasp on my hand. I look behind me, wondering if there is anyone around to witness what’s going on in case I need help, but we’re alone.
He reaches for the door and wraps his fingers around the knob, twisting it before he shoves it open. I hold my breath, waiting for what is about to come. I have no idea what it could be, but my anxiety is through the absolute roof as I brace myself.
He turns his head, looking over his shoulder at me. “C’mon in, and we’ll go over some paperwork.”
“Paperwork?” I ask, my exhale coming out in a whoosh.
He grins, no doubt feeling my stress floating around us in the air. “Yeah, babe. Paperwork.”
Babe.
Wow.
Then, without another word, he walks around the desk and sinks down in the chair before he lifts his hand and motions behind me. Turning my head, I find two chairs in the middle of the room, facing the desk.
He wants me to sit.
My legs are so shaky that I agree with myself it would be a wonderful idea to sit down instead of collapsing onto the floor. I sink down and place my trembling hands on my thighs as I slowly lift my gaze up to look at this man.
He is watching me, his honey eyes fixed on mine across the desk. My heart is beating so fast that I don’t know how I’m even sitting. I’ve never been this overly anxious in my life. But being in this building, sitting across from this man, I’m wondering just what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.
As if he can read my mind, he leans forward, pushing a piece of paper across the desk. “Here.”
Reaching for the paper, my fingers trembling as I do, I look down and frown at the sight of the document. My eyes scan the heading, and my brows snap together at the words as they register.
Nondisclosure Agreement.
I know what they mean; that’s not what has me confused. It’s why he’s handing this to me at all. I’m a cleaner. He’s set this meeting up to talk to me about a potential cleaning contract. Why would I need to sign this?
I flick my gaze up, and he no doubt sees the question in my eyes. “The NDA is just a precaution. You’re going to be in and out of here; no sense in there being any question on what can be said, or not said, to anyone who may try and ask.”
“That sounds ambiguous,” I murmur.
“Just the way it is,” he states.
I’m probably going to regret asking this, especially with the way he’s looking at me. I don’t know if he wants to eat me alive or what, but I’m a little scared to ask my next question. I inhale a deep breath, hold it for a moment, then let it out before I continue.
“Well, before I sign anything, what exactly do you expect from me?”
I watch as he places his elbows on the table and presses his fingers together in front of his mouth. Thankfully, the move doesn’t hide his pretty eyes from my view. I can’t look away from them. They’ve got me frozen in place, holding me here.
“We just need this place cleaned once a week. Then we got a couple houses in town we need cleaned as well.”
I’m not sure why, but the way he says it makes me feel as if he wants more than just a few places cleaned. There is more to this, and I wonder if I do this, if I sign this NDA and then the contract for service, am I signing a deal with the devil?
“I’m a small business. There’s only just me and one employee who do the cleaning.”
He dips his chin. “Good. She’ll need to sign that as well.”
“He,” I state.
His lips twitch. “Okay, he then.”
“Once a week, a place this big, it’s going to be three thousand dollars a month.”
I don’t tell him that three grand is a life-altering amount for us.
Like, that will make it so that I don’t have to decide on which bill to pay each week.
I could pay them all, and I wouldn’t have to wonder if I’m going to have to close my business every other month because I don’t have enough clients or work.
He tilts his head to the side, his gaze searching mine. I watch as his hands fall away from his face. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, and maybe I don’t want to know, but I hold my breath as I wait for him to give me something, anything.
“You sign that NDA and you got a deal, darlin’. We’ll work on a schedule, and then we can agree on the other properties.”
I don’t ask him if he wants me to do a trial run or anything like that. I’m not going to kick a gift horse in the mouth. I’m going to take this money and shut up about it. I might be making the biggest mistake of my life today, but I’m also going to be able to eat.
So beggars certainly cannot be choosers.
And I’m a beggar, at least in this moment.
I sign the NDA, and the moment I do, my stomach twists because I have a feeling I’ve just altered the trajectory of my entire life.