Riley: The Contract
Jack smiles cruelly down at me on the table. “You’re dripping wet. You’re so wet that you’re soaking through those tight little panties you have on. Do you like this? Do you like being stripped in front of everyone and told what to do?”
I tell myself to be quiet but I can’t. “No! I hate this, obviously!” I’m blushing and I try to will it away.
“Do you think she’s going to fall in love with me, Caleb? Do you think she’s going to beg for my cock?”
“I could never love a…thing like you! You were following me in the city—I saw you across the street! Why were you following me?”
I can’t believe I’m stupid enough to talk back to a man this dangerous, but I can’t help myself. I feel so angry and so humiliated that words flair up inside of me against my will. Fuck it. Fuck him. If it’s Daemon who’s deciding whether they take me or not, then I don’t have to pander to Jack.
He steps over to me, ever so slowly, and lays a hand on my inner thigh. I shudder and goosebumps race along my skin. I can feel myself getting wetter. Why is my body doing this? I hate him. I’m terrified of him! But I’ve never been touched so expertly. Caleb grabs and tugs indiscriminately. Jack, in just these few moments of contact, plays my body like his instrument.
It’s unbearably humiliating being aroused and on display like this. My life is in danger. The whole situation is absurd, like some bizarre dream that doesn’t make sense by real-world logic.
Jack returns to his chair and checks his phone. He smiles another cruel smile. “You have a deal. Daemon’ll spare dear Caleb’s fingers in exchange for your body. Still, though, I have to decide if I’m going to forgive that debt. Do you think you’re worth eleven million dollars, Riley Lark?”
I glance down. I don’t know what else to say, so I go with the truth. “No, obviously not.”
“Well, you’re in luck,” Jack says. “I think you are.”
“What?” Caleb blurts.
“What?” I blurt.
“She’s worth eleven million dollars to me. You’re in luck.”
He’s joking. He must be joking. No one in the world’s worth an eleven-million-dollar debt. He’s about to do something awful.
“She is?” Caleb says, as shocked as me.
“You’re…you’re not going to kill me? Or take anything from my family?” I say. Relief floods through me for a moment before I remember the price.
“All only in exchange for your body and soul.” He seems amused. “You’ll work off that very large debt with me, and you’ll learn to serve and pleasure Daemon Amontillado, the head of our little group.”
“He messaged you back about her?” Wyatt asks. He seems surprised. “He never gets back to me that fast. Or at all, sometimes.”
“It’s important to know what will entice him,” Jack says, still amused.
“That’s what you are, huh? Some little lackey—Daemon’s pimp?” My words freeze me. I can’t believe I just said that. Most powerful men I’ve met are deeply insecure and react viciously to insults and slights. I’m terrified for a moment that Jack’s simply going to break my neck for that.
Instead, he looks over to Wyatt and, for just a moment, they both laugh. He swings his gaze lazily back to me and shrugs. "Even kings must appease emperors. You'll be trained by me, and me alone, until it's time to pass you off to Daemon. He doesn't want amateurs or ingénues. You're going to learn how to please men, and you're going to learn how to carry yourself in the circles that you will be presented in. Do you understand?"
He says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for me to give my body up to him. I want to spit his words back in his face, but I remind myself that a moment ago I was begging for my life, my family’s entire savings, and Caleb’s idiot fingers. I remind myself that in another moment I could be begging for those things again, or dead. I swallow the little pride I have left and nod my head. This, from my low starting place, is a victory.
“I understand.”
Jack sits back in his chair and Christie brings him a pad of rich, cream-colored paper and an ornate pen. I blush at another woman seeing me like this, as if that makes it worse somehow. But she ignores me and walks back out. I feel betrayed by her. She didn’t warn me.
Jack sits and writes calmly in his chair. I feel like this is some type of test, and I want to pass it. I also want to jump up, or try to leave, or do something to show I’m not afraid of him. But I am afraid. I’m terrified. So I stay on the table, my legs pulled back and open, my little lingerie exposing everything. I bide my time. Step by step until I can kill them all for this.
I wish I'd worn something less revealing—something even plainer than what I have on. My nipples show through the bra and they're hard. My panties stretch tightly over the contours of my private places, showing everything. I had hoped when I got dressed this morning that—somehow, against all odds—Caleb was going to find the volition to sleep with me later tonight, if he wasn't too tired from poker and alcohol. Honestly, I didn't really want to sleep with him. But he was all I had. Now, instead, it turns out that I dressed myself to be displayed to a monster.
Focus. It doesn’t matter. Just use this time to think. I think of ballet. I think of the hundreds of little details in each routine. I remember how I had to break it down until I was just focusing on that one gesture or one step at a time. You had to just fight and train for that next step. Just one more step. Just endure it. Don’t think about anything else.
Then I remember how my mom took me out of ballet because I “wasn’t as good as the other girls,” and it just “wasn’t for” me. She said I’d thank her later for saving me a lot of embarrassment. I’ll probably do just as well at surviving this. I try to shove the thought out of my head.
Just one more step. I can’t even conceive that something so strange and terrible is happening to me. You think: No, not me. It couldn’t possibly be me. But then you learn bad fortune falls on everyone—it doesn’t care to discern between us.
It seems inconceivable when life is good. But it comes all the same. I try to force myself to accept that this isn’t some nightmare that I’m going to wake up from, and it’s not something that’s suddenly going to go away or be fixed. But I keep thinking: There must be some mistake. This can’t happen to me. I’m a normal person. I do normal things. Nothing extraordinary ever happens to me! Why should it start now, with something so bad?
It’s happening, I tell myself. Now find your next step.
"We're just supposed to sit here while you write?" Caleb whines. The two rougher men, Matt and Tom, still have him on the ground and loom over him. Caleb's afraid of Jack, but he's not smart enough to be as afraid as I am. He still thinks he's just in a nightmare he'll wake up from. He doesn't realize the nightmare's come out to play in the real world. Or maybe the real world was a nightmare all along, and I just didn’t realize it.
Jack flicks a finger and Matt hits Caleb in the face. He whimpers and stays quiet.
You found your first step: He’s not going to kill you. He’s not going after your family. Just go along now. That’s your next move. Trade what you have to for your life. Look for a way to get away from him—find a way out of the country or maybe find a way to the FBI. That will come later. For now, cooperate with everything. Survive the night.
I know you’re never supposed to let yourself be taken to a secondary location by a kidnapper, but we already went to that secondary location when Caleb took us to this poker room. He walked us right into it. They have me now. And they’re the mob. It’s not as simple as just physically running away, even if I could.
If I run they’ll go for my family. I’ll go to the FBI, then. But can the FBI put a whole extended family into witness protection? What about the hundreds of friends I have, all neatly lined up across social media for Jack to find and threaten?
And then Jack’s done writing and my thinking time’s up. I was so lost in concentration that I forgot for a moment that I’m stripped naked like a prize left on a poker table.
Jack holds up the paper.
“Did you actually bother to write a legal contract?” I say before I can bite my words back. He only smirks.
“It’s a contract between us. I expect you to know what you’re agreeing to and obey our agreement. If you don’t agree, we ransom you to your family instead.”
Or kill me.
He lays the paper on the floor at his feet.
“Get off the table and crawl to me.”
I blush—more angry at the absurdity of it than embarrassed—but I obey him. I step off the table and then sink to my hands and knees. It feels shameful showing my bottom in a position like this—it's humiliating to be told to crawl at all, much less almost entirely naked. But I crawl to Jack, my hips and breasts swaying. He makes no show of doing anything but leering at my body. Yeah, look at the stupid chubby girl. Crawling between the table and his feet, I indulge in a brief, lurid fantasy of gruesomely murdering him.
"Stay on the ground. Keep your back arched and that ass popped into the air."
I fume inside and do it. I start to read his sham contract. It’s written in bold, dark ink.
“Aloud,” Jack says.
“One: Riley Lark is now the property of Jack Turner. He owns her body and her obedience.
“Two: Riley has no more rights or privileges.
“Three: If Riley wants to eat, drink, wash, or use a restroom, she must earn Jack’s permission.
"Four: When Riley wants to dress, she must earn Jack's permission.
“Five: Riley will wear a collar and chastity belt.
“Six: Riley will not masturbate without Jack’s permission.
“Seven: Riley will dutifully learn all rules of good etiquette and society.
“Eight: Riley will submit herself to Jack sexually.”
My heart is racing and I have to stop and try to breathe for a moment. I'm blushing again, bright red across my face and chest. I've never felt so furious in my life, and each number makes me angrier. But I've never been so wet. My thighs are trembling trying to hold me up on my knees. My nipples are hard. And Jack can see everything that reading this is doing to me. Fucking damn it. What the hell?
I bite my lip and try to focus. I read the last three lines and I can’t stop my voice from trembling.
“Nine: Riley is not allowed to lie to Jack about anything.
“Ten: If Riley disobeys any of these rules, she will be disciplined sexually.
"Eleven: Riley no longer has any connection to Caleb Montcrest. Their engagement and relationship are severed entirely."
I breathe for a moment, staring down at the paper. I don’t have a problem with the last one, at least.
“Sit up,” he says.
I sit back on my feet, my bottom pressing over them. I keep my back straight and my chin raised and I meet his gaze. I can do that, at least. His dark eyes make me shudder, though. Again I feel like a maiden suppliant before some ancient king.
“What do you choose?” he asks. I didn’t think the devil would spell out his deal so clearly. “Give me your body or let me take your family’s money?”
It would be so easy—so much easier than giving myself to Jack. But my family would lose everything. And they would find out that Caleb is a fraud—that my Prince Charming was actually only a giant, slimy frog all along. They'll know little Riley and her dreams were a joke—that she actually never did deserve any of those remarkable lives she yearned for. And they would be right. I don’t deserve anything more. I’m a fool.
But I can’t swallow them finding that out.
I look him in the eye. “I’ll do it. I’ll take your deal.”
He hands me his pen and I sign on the floor and hand it back. He takes a moment to contemplate my signature then takes a silver lighter from his pocket and burns the sheet. He holds it until it burns up in his fingers. The fire doesn’t seem to bother him.
“I can see how wet you are.” I think I can see the faintest hint of some dark amusement behind his eyes. “There’s some part of you that loves being treated like this. Is home life not exciting enough for you?”
And before I can stop myself I’m hurling words back at him. “I could never like this. I could never like you. You’re an animal. I saw you following us on the street. You tricked Caleb because you could see he was an idiot. You hit me. What kind of man hits a woman? You’re nothing but a gangster. You’re the same to me as some crack-addict mugger on the street. I could never do anything but despise you!”
It all comes out in a rush and I’m sure he’s going to hit me now. But he just looks at me with his cold, dark eyes. Then the smile curls onto his face again and he laughs. Everyone in the room laughs at me.
“There’s one last thing,” Jack says.
“What?”
“Look over at your fiancéand break up with him to his face.”
That I can do. “No fucking problem.”
Caleb’s sniffling and hardly following what’s going on.
“Caleb, I’m breaking up with you. We’re fucking done.”
“I don’t have to pay the debt?” he says, dumbly.
“I can’t believe it took this to make me realize I should break up with you.” I can’t even make myself pity him. I just despise him. I despise him for every time he ignored me. I despise every time I did what he wanted instead of following my own passion. I despise him for how remarkably mundane he is—how dull and how uninterested he is in everything around him. I can’t believe I almost married this man. I can’t believe I could’ve wasted decades of my life on him. Even with all the terrible things that are happening to me, I actually feel good for just a moment. I’m a captive, yet cutting ties to Caleb gives me a brief, delicious swell of freedom. It feels really, really good.
Jack lays a hand on the back of my neck, possessively, and I shiver. His fingers are rough and iron hard. "Caleb, are you listening to me? We're done. I'm breaking up with you. I'm ending our engagement." I look for any reaction, but Caleb mostly just seems petulant at the man who hit him. He's only half paying attention to me. "I'm not going to marry you. I belong to Jack Turner now. I'm his property."
“Yeah, fine,” Caleb mutters, still a whiny child. He’s probably just thinking how this will be embarrassing to admit to Daddy. I relish that thought. Having his fiancéestolen from him by another man will be a grievous blow to Caleb and Hector’s view of his masculinity.
Jack holds out his other hand and Matt takes off Caleb’s ring and tosses it to him. Jack reaches down across my chest and takes my hand. I brace myself but he gently spins the circlet from my finger. He pockets the rings and I know I’ll never see them again. That hurts. Mine was my grandmother’s. My dad had given it to Caleb for the proposal. I blink back tears and tell myself to not be an idiot—I have far bigger things to worry about.
“Now kiss my hand, then bend down and kiss my shoe, then tell me how thankful you are that I let you take this deal.”
“What?” I understand him fine, but it’s just so absurd. People don’t make other people do these things!
“You heard me. Are you dull? Do you need simple commands spelled out for you?”
“Yes,” I say petulantly. These bursts of boldness will get me killed.
“You’re my possession now. If you remember, you just signed your body over to me. I own you completely. Now, do you want to be punished or are you going to follow my command?”
I bow my head and kiss his hand. Then I bend forward and press my lips to the toe of his leather shoe and plant a thorough kiss on it.
“Is that very humiliating for you? Very disgusting, being made to kiss a man’s shoe?”
I sit back up and stare at him defiantly. “No, sir. I love the taste of leather.”
“Hmmm. Good. I’ll have to let you clean my shoes with your mouth sometime.”
I’m too angry to give him anything. “Thank you, sir. That would be wonderful,” I say with an icy calm that surprises me.
“Oh, and Riley, don’t worry. I think you’re a little fool, and I despise you, too.”
“Then let me go!” I spit back.
Jack smiles at that and laughs again—crueler this time. "You don't understand. You've been offered to Daemon Amontillado and he's chosen you for his amusement. Daemon always gets what he wants."
He looks deep into my eyes with that piercing, dark gaze, and somehow I know that—at this moment—he’s not lying to me.
“Neither of us have any choice anymore. You’re stuck with me until this is done.”