Eight

"Better yet," he says, voice steady, almost casual. "Tell me—what's rule number one?"

My heart sinks, heavy and loud in my chest.He's watching me—really watching me. Every blink, every twitch, every small betrayal my body offers.

My mind races as I drag my fingers through my hair, searching for composure. His eyes never move. They trail me, trace me, study the faintest tremor in my lips, the nervous tightening of my jaw, even the tiny bite I give the inside of my cheek.

He's not just looking—he's dissecting.

I wonder—what happened to the women who broke the rules before me?Did they scream?Beg?Pray?

Should I?

I glance toward the house. Two men stand like statues a few yards away, dressed in black, hands clasped in front. Not moving. Not speaking. Watching. I can't tell if they're guarding him—or guarding me.

My gaze drops to the marble tabletop. I can't meet his eyes. Not now. Not when my lie still lingers in the air like smoke.He wouldn't know. He couldn't know.

...Could he?

Why else would he ask?

"Answer me."His voice cuts clean through my thoughts—firm, unbothered.

My shoulders stiffen. I search for words, for logic, for a way to soften the blow. Dean wouldn't have said anything... would he? He was friendly, harmless.

At least he appeared to be, but it seems looks could be deceiving.

Still, the silence between us feels like it's closing in.

"Don't talk to anybody," I whisper finally.

He leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving me. "So why did you?"

The question lands like a verdict. Without a doubt if I didn't know rather he knew anything—I know now.

He's not angry—worse. He's calm. Composed. Certain.

"When I said anybody, Talia," he says, voice low but sharp, "that's exactly what I meant."

Talia.The way it rolls off his tongue feels deliberate—personal. No one's ever called me that before. Not like that.

"I didn't mean to go against your wishes," I murmur, my voice barely audible. "It wasn't out of disrespect."

He nods slightly, expression unreadable. "The problem isn't intent—it's the act itself." His tone doesn't waver. "I need you to understand what it means to maintain your safety."

I swallow hard. "My... safety?"

He exhales slowly, fingertips brushing his lips in thought. "Yes and it's obvious your blind curiousity is an itch you just can't seem to ignore...I wanted to see how far that curiosity would take you. And now I have my answer."

My stomach twists.

"You failed," he says simply. "Innocent you may be—but your nose can cost more than you realize."

He reaches forward then, his hand skimming over mine. His touch is light—almost tender—but it sends a shiver through me. I finally look up.

"No worries, though. I'll break you out of it," he murmurs. His eyes hold mine—calm, unblinking. It's as if he can see every lie I've ever told. "Your first fault is a warning. Your second..." He pauses, leaning in just slightly. "...will warrant punishment."

I drop my gaze again, afraid of what might happen if I hold it too long. The air between us hums—thick with something I can't name.

The soft creak of a door pulls my attention. The housekeeper steps out, her steps delicate against the stone. Two breakfast platters balanced neatly in her hands. She places them down in silence, her movements precise and practiced.

Michael doesn't look at her. Not once.His focus stays on me.

"Thank you, Marie." He says politely while still sharpening his focus on me.

"My pleasure, Mr. Jackson." She says before swiftly disappearing back into the house.

And though I can smell the warm sweetness of fresh bread and eggs, my appetite is gone—lost somewhere between the fear and the fascination twisting in my chest.

"Now that we debriefed on that. Let's cut to the chase. I'm going to assume my offer interested you. Yes?" He says cutting into his fresh fried chicken, shifting his focus off on me.

Finally I felt as if I could breathe again.

"I am." I answered diving into my own plate of eggs. Marie was an excellent cook. "I'm just curious on what..you meant last night about a 'beck and call'."

"Mm." He says with clasped fingers against his lips with his eyes set on me. "Well, the easiest way I can put it is, I call, you come." He retorts words laced in velvet.

His face remained dull and unread but his words made me feel hot inside.

"So you're exchanging my time for money?"I asks coyly looking up from my glass of orange juice.

"I want more than your time, Talia..that's where your loss of control comes in.." He says sitting back from his plate.

" What else does it include?"

"Anything."

The word lingers between us, low and dangerous. My pulse kicks hard in my chest.

I can't tell if I should be terrified—or intrigued.

"Anything?" I echo, testing him.

He nods once, his tone almost bored, but the weight of it cuts through me. "You'll learn soon enough that the people who survive around me aren't the ones who question what—they're the ones who learn how to obey."

His fork scrapes against the plate, the sound sharp enough to make me flinch.

Then, softer:"You'll find obedience isn't about submission, Talia. It's about trust."

My breath catches.Trust. That word doesn't belong here—not between us.

Nor was it something I could maintain between me and a man.

That didn't dull the spark of my curiosity.

He takes a moment to reach at his side and retain a Manila folder with a small thin stack of papers within it.

"This may seem like much but I need guaranteed security and I need to know that I can trust you." He says with mellow eyes.

I scan the nondisclosure agreement before sliding it closer.

"I will go over it with you, thoroughly."

I continue to skim the first paraphrases before nodding.

"As you can see, it's nothing you haven't agreed to already." He says studying my facial expressions as I continued to read.

I pause from reading for a while. Limited education permitted me from understanding exactly what certain things meant as far as wording was concerned.

Nor did I want to sign into another odd job deal like the one I had with Tucker.

"What does that mean?"

"Well you're here with me. In a sense you're well aware of what you want to do."He says confidently with a soft smirk. "Would you like me to start touching bases?"

"Yes.."

He sits back, watching me skim the fine print as if he already knows where my eyes will stop.

"This section here," he says, voice low and measured, "covers discretion." His finger traces a thin line of text. "You're to maintain the secrecy of our connection. Whatever exists between us—stays between us. No one outside this house, not even the walls at your job, needs to know we've spoken."

My throat tightens. "So... complete silence?"

"Total," he replies without hesitation. "What happens in my orbit doesn't leave it."

He moves to the next point. "Anything you see or hear under my roof—conversations, names, details..you'll forget the moment you walk out that door. Curiosity has a way of getting people hurt."

I nod, though something in the way he says hurt makes my stomach twist.

Then he turns the page. "You'll also resign from the Playhouse."

My eyes snap up. "Resign?"

"Immediately." His tone leaves no room for argument. "Tucker has his own interests, and I have mine. I can't have them crossing."

"That's my job," I protest, voice catching somewhere between disbelief and fear.

He studies me calmly. "It was. I'll see that you're compensated. Your only responsibility moving forward will be to me."

"That's not something I can just walk away from," I argue, shaking my head. "Tucker will want answers."

Michael's expression softens, though his eyes don't. "Leave Tucker to me. I'll take care of your situation there."

The way he says it—so casual, so certain. It makes my pulse stumble.

He continues, his tone unflinching. "You're also not to maintain contact with anyone from your workplace. Not Tucker. Not the staff. They complicate things."

"So you're cutting me off," I say quietly.

"I'm protecting you from unnecessary entanglements."

My gaze drifts to the paper again, where the next clause is neatly underlined.

"When I call, you come," he reads aloud. "No hesitation. No excuses. If I need you, you drop whatever it is you're doing."

My pulse skips. "That sounds like obedience."

He tilts his head slightly. "It's commitment. And trust."

He waits until I meet his eyes before continuing. "You'll undergo a medical screening—full panel. I expect the same of myself. Safety isn't one-sided."

The mention of it pulls my attention from the contract to him. His face remains composed, but there's something else behind his calm—a precision, a quiet claim.

And then, there it is. The line that makes my chest tighten.

"You'll also disclose your history," He says smoothly. "Your past with men. No omissions."

I freeze, the pen motionless between my fingers. "That's... personal."

He leans forward slightly. "So is trust."

My mind stirs with questions I can't afford to voice. Why does he want to know? What would he do if he found out about—

I cut the thought off before it betrays me. The one man whose name I won't say drifts through my mind anyway, his voice low, his smile too familiar.

Michael studies me, waiting. "You've gone quiet."

"I'm just thinking," I say quickly. "Trying to remember what matters."

He nods, though I can feel his gaze pressing harder, as if he's testing for cracks.

"You'll also be open about any current connections," he continues. "Friends, exes, attachments. I don't like surprises."

My breath catches, but I keep my expression neutral. "Understood."

He watches me another moment, then sits back. "And while this agreement stands, there are no other men. No romantic ties. No divided loyalties. You understand?"

I force a nod, though my pulse drums with quiet defiance. He doesn't need to know everything. Not yet.

He folds his hands on the table, his calm absolute. "This isn't about taking from you, Talia. It's about trust—and what it costs to earn mine."

I glance down at the pen again. It feels heavier than before, as if it knows what I'm about to surrender.

I look up at him one last time, and even as every instinct tells me to walk away, I sign.

"I'm glad we can come to an agreement." He says smirking at me lounging back in his chair.