Ryder

 

I’d spent the afternoon mulling over the various scenarios for how our first meeting in years would go. My thoughts shifted from foreboding to indifference, to what could be described as enthusiasm over seeing her. Shaking my head as I paced around my house, checking my watch incessantly, I was unsettled. That’s the only way that the anticipation could be described. I was almost mad at myself for putting us in this situation, but then I remembered that she could have been matched up with someone else, and that left me with nothing but blatant jealousy.

 

She hadn’t been mine in years, but she was now. For better or for worse, the next year was mine to dictate. I’d earned it. And whether she was amicable to it or not really didn’t matter. I straightened my tie, and checked my watch again, when my cell phone pinged with a message from Jacob that they were arriving downstairs.

 

As my heart raced, thumping against my chest, I smoothed my blond hair in the mirror near my foyer. It was go time, and regardless of the storm within me, it was time to play it cool, and remember that it was me who was in charge now. Not her.

 

Moments later, the doorbell rang, startling me, even though I expected it.

 

Taking one more deep breath, I opened the door to see Jacob holding a small suitcase and hiding the small blonde figure behind him.

 

“Sir,” he said, as I waved him in, leaving her in the hallway, facing me. She was as fucking beautiful as I remembered. Her long blonde hair was swept over one shoulder, and she clutched her giant purse as if it was a life preserver. She had barely aged a day, and her pale skin was highlighted by her crystal blue eyes that avoided mine. As I took her in, all I could think was that I’d made a huge mistake.

 

“Mr. Donahue,” she said flatly. “May I come in?”

 

I was clearly staring, and lost in my own thoughts, because she tilted her head at me as if she were waiting for a reply which I had forgotten to provide. Clearing my throat, I brought myself back to the moment.

 

“Lucy. It’s been a long time,” I replied. “Yes, of course. Come in.” Without addressing me further, she walked past me into the living room beyond the foyer, and spun around to face me.

 

“My name is Lucinda,” she said without emotion.

 

Oh really, we’re playing that game, I thought. Reminding myself once again that I held the cards in this situation, I jumped back into character. The douchebag character I intended to play. If she thought she was going to dictate how this went down, she was wrong.

 

“Well Lucy,” I emphasized her name dramatically. “I believe the contract we have stipulates that I’m in charge.” I scanned her face, noticing her shock at my tone. “And that means I can call you whatever I want.” Feeling smug, I awaited her reply, watching her cross her arms defensively.

 

Narrowing her eyes at me, she replied, “You’re right, Mr. Donahue, it does. I would prefer to be called Lucinda, but if you insist, you may call me whatever you like.”

 

“Exactly. Now that we have that out of the way, Lucy” - I pointed to the couch for her to sit - “let’s talk about what my needs are and how you will meet them.”

 

As I watched her form an insincere, tight-lipped smile, I took note of her physical features, essentially ogling her assets as she walked to the couch. As she crossed her long legs, I remembered what they felt like wrapped around me, as if it were yesterday.

 

After she sat, we stared at each other, while I leaned against an oversized chair across from her. Neither of us spoke for what seemed like quite a while, when she once again shocked me.

 

“Are you expecting me to fuck you, Ryder?” Her mouth always killed me. She deserved some kind of punishment for talking to me like that, under the circumstances, and while I was establishing my dominance, but I couldn’t help laughing.

 

“No, Lucy, I’m not.” I chuckled as I spoke.

 

“Well, what is it that you want exactly? I believe that I’m aware of what my obligations are, but we may as well lay it out on the table here. I certainly wasn’t expecting to be matched with you,” she said, almost apologetically. Her tone gave me a twinge in my chest, almost deterring me from my goals in this arrangement.

 

“Lucy, I cannot begin to tell you how surprised I was to have been matched with you,” I began, when she interrupted me.

 

“So why didn’t you stop it? I’m not allowed to, but you are. You could have asked for someone that was more suited to… meet your needs.” She glared at me.

 

“Meet my needs? Do you have any idea what my needs are, Lucy? I don’t think you do. So let’s get something straight right now. I don’t owe you any explanations. You’re getting paid - very well, I might add - to be here. You agreed to this arrangement, regardless of who it was with. My needs, as you so delicately put them, are to have a reliable companion that looks and acts like my girlfriend for functions, dinners, and whatever else I need. This is a business arrangement. Like any other business arrangement. The fact that it was you they sent means nothing to me.” I forced out the last statement with a terribly sour taste in my mouth. It was such a lie.

 

Just seeing her expression when I told her it meant nothing to me that she was sitting ten feet away from me created a pit in my stomach that felt like a chasm. Her eyes became glassy, resembling the pool we used to swim in together as kids, and I began to question whether I could go through with an entire year with her like that.

 

Her demeanor softened, and she quietly responded, “I understand. So what would you like me to do? I’ve brought a few things with me, and I believe the rest of my belongings will be coming? I plan to keep my own apartment, so the only thing I need are my clothes and such, as well as a few books. Is that alright with you?” She became subservient in her tone.

 

Unsure of how to move forward, I simply said, “Whatever you need, we will have packed and collected for you. Just make a list and give it to Jacob. If you need something that I do not have, also let Jacob know. He will be your driver, and your bodyguard, so to speak, when you are not with me.”

 

“Okay,” she said quietly, watching my body language.

 

As I stiffened my posture, uncomfortable with the mood of our exchange, I added, “We have dinner tonight at 8pm. I will need you to dress up for this; we’re meeting a potential client downtown at that new place that just opened. I can’t remember what it’s called, but it’s fancy. You can do fancy, I presume?” I added the douchey comment on the end for myself. I needed to be reminded that it wasn’t a high school reunion with my former love. It was business. Regardless of how beautiful and vulnerable she looked, it wasn’t my job to comfort her. It hadn’t been my job in almost six years.

 

“Yes, I can do that,” she replied, stiffening her posture as well. Making her uncomfortable, and mildly embarassed was the only way that this was going to work. “Where should I get ready?”