Read The Contract (Nightlong #1) for Free Online Page A

He put down a cup of coffee on my bedside table and catching a glance at the clock, I saw it was way past noon.
    “I slept?”
    He laughed. “You slept. I thought I better stay. I didn’t want to leave you here alone. I worried you’d choke yourself in your sleep on vomit… or worse… try to leave after cutting out the tracking device. You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
    He smiled smarmily which made me think he’d probably been rummaging through the kitchen and had found my equipment for getting rid of the damned thing.
    “Why on earth would I try to escape the vile tyrant keeping me held hostage? I have no idea.” I dragged the cup of coffee he’d made off the side and took a swig before burying myself back under all the covers.
    “I like this new honesty we have going on. I’d love to tell you all the drunken things you said as I put you in bed last night, but it’s going to be more fun keeping those little titbits for my own amusement.”
    For a brief moment, I recalled how a younger, more naïve version of myself once felt about this man. I once fancied I loved him, but now I knew different.
    I hated him.
    “Whatever, you can’t wind me up. I’m cleverer than you.”
    “You are? Well, if you say so,” he said, and left the room.
    I drank my coffee down angrily and dwelt on angry thoughts. What could I use to clout him one? The iron… my handbag? What about a brick? There might have been one in the back garden for just that purpose…
    And how did he get hold of casual clothes? Unless he did have some of those in his wardrobe here…
    It being Friday, I’d missed an appointment with Solange to have my hair done before Paris tomorrow.
    “For gawd sake,” I complained as I struggled to get my legs out of bed. “I’m late!”
    “I cancelled Solange,” he shouted from downstairs. “Don’t worry about it.”
    I heard the TV playing and it was suddenly like we were just normal people doing normal things. I didn’t think he even watched TV. Maybe the news… but not TV. He was too automatic – too arrogant – for TV, right?
    Feeling insane, I climbed into the shower and didn’t wait for the water to warm up before I jumped in. I needed to be woken up, and quickly.
     
    “WHAT happened to your hair?” he asked when I seated myself beside him on the sectional sofa, a new cup of coffee in my hand. I dragged a blanket off the back of the chair and draped it over my knees, settling in to watch reruns of Columbo with him.
    “It’s curly, didn’t you know?”
    “No, I didn’t. You’ve always had it straight.”
    “I’ve always had it tied back in a bun… or straightened out. It’s naturally curly.”
    Left curly, it only reached the middle of my back.
    “It looks lovely.”
    “It looks stupid,” I retaliated. “I always got bullied for it. I don’t like it.”
    “Well I do. I really like it.”
    “Look Dante, we know this isn’t us.”
    He smiled. “What isn’t?”
    “Watching crappy TV, you nursing my hangover and pretending to care.”
    “I do care!”
    I didn’t turn to see his eyes. I was strong as long as I never looked into his eyes. I chewed my cheek before calmly telling him, “Go spend some time with your girlfriend. Isn’t that who you should be spending quality time with? Not me. I’m just the outlet, remember? We’re not friends, just employer and employee.”
    “Ciara–”
    “Don’t even bother. Go do your job or whatever cock and bull story you live outside of this house–”
    “I stayed over and I’m still here because I’m worried you’re not well.”
    “You’re the only thing making me unwell.”
    “What?” he exclaimed, sitting forward, shocked.
    “You think I want you here after last night?”
    He’d tossed a glass across the room and it had smashed into a million little pieces because he hadn’t liked me challenging our arrangement.
    “Ciara, please don’t start an argument again.”
    “Then, go.”
    “I don’t want to go. How do I