His Under Contract Read online

  “Ethan, spit out why I’m really here.” Her eyes bore into mine.

  Sighing, I look right back without flinching. “Don’t encourage Holly about me. For her, I’m asking you not to do it.”

  Her face softens, she’s sad. I wish I could take it away but I can’t. She doesn’t say anything, only nods then leaves.

  ****

  The time in the corner of my laptop is taunting me. It’s eight, time for me to go home. Instead, I pick up the phone. Her name is Mina, I’m sure it was once Martha or something else as bland. She was one of the blondes at the party who had slipped me her number. She sounds annoyed I’m calling at the last minute. It doesn’t stop her from accepting my invitation to dinner tonight. I tell her I’ll be there in an hour and she agrees.

  Ricky goes up for her, I’m not interested enough to get out of the car. She gets in with a smile. I’m guessing that between the caps and whitening, her smile cost her around seven grand, almost as much as her tits. Fuck, I didn’t remember she had fake tits. I hate fake tits, I’d rather have an A cup than fake tits. Now I’m even more uninterested.

  “I’m glad you called. You were one of the few people at the party that night who wasn’t a complete bore.” She’s leans into me. Her perfume is cloying, making me nauseous

  “Do you like Italian?”

  Her gasp is overdone. “Italian is my favorite. I adore risotto. Where are we going?”

  “We’re here actually, Gorgio’s.”

  Clinging to me as we go up the stairs, she teeters on six inch heels. I bet myself five bucks if she has more than one glass of wine she’ll trip. Dinner is as bad as I thought it would be. She’s chattering about a photo shoot. The salad with dressing on the side is pushed around until it’s wilted. It’s time to go, I signal for the check. She says something about powdering her nose before standing. I’m more interested in signing the check. Seconds later, there’s a crash and people murmur. Looking up, I see Mina on the floor. I don’t bother getting out of my chair; a waiter is helping her up.

  She makes it back to the table without falling. I don’t get near her as we leave, her perfume is awful. Thankfully, she gets the hint. Probably thinks it’s about her fall, I don’t explain myself. When Ricky gets to her place, she invites me up. Without looking at her, I shake my head. I have an early morning meeting, is my excuse. Her eyes glisten with tears as she gets out.

  It’s a little after ten thirty, the cloying perfume covers me. I’m loose from the three glasses of wine I allowed myself at the restaurant. I tell Ricky to take me to the cigar bar, then he can go home. I’ll catch a taxi home. A client I’ve had for years is there and we chat for well over an hour. When we say our goodbyes, we promise each other to make a plan to meet up. I get home a little after one in the morning.

  Letting myself into the condo, I see all the lights are off except the recessed foyer light. Turning it off, I make my way down the hallway. The light is off in Holly’s room. Yet, as I pause outside for a second, I know she’s not asleep. In my room, I dump the suit, knowing the scent will still be on it when she cleans.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ethan is Fletcher, think of him as Fletcher. Fletcher is my older brother; only eighteen months separate us. We love each other deeply but we are each other’s weakest link. We also make each other absolutely nuts in seconds flat. It’s the only way I make it through the next two weeks.

  Although Ethan and I have traded a few insults, none of them are as bad as it was in the first few days. I have strictly forbidden myself to think of him as anyone other than Fletcher. I always make sure to be in bed and asleep no later than ten o’clock. There have only been two nights when he was home before then.

  “I didn’t realize I was paying for you to daydream. Maybe I should get cameras in here to take a look at just how much you actually work.”

  “Now that would be a bad idea. I’m sure I could take your ass to court and win this condo out from under you, with your horrific employment practices caught on tape. The jury wouldn’t need to even deliberate.”

  Shaking his head, he puts his plate on the countertop, “The dreams of the uneducated in law. Wouldn’t happen, we would never make it to court. I don’t do court, because when lawyers think of meeting me in a courtroom they do embarrassing things, like sweat or wet themselves.”

  “You think you are so the shit.” I’m astounded by his ego.

  “I don’t think, I know. This tattoo,” Despite him wearing his suit I vividly remember the knife with blood dripping off it. “When I came out of law school, the rule was if you take me on be ready to bleed for it. I’ll make sure of it in front of the client, the judge, and the jury, you won’t walk away until I’ve drawn blood.”

  “Is that how you think of women? Don’t tangle with you unless you’re ready to bleed for it?” Shit, where the question comes from I have no idea.

  He goes still and eyes me. “No. I don’t set out to make a woman cry or bleed over me. I make no promises, ever. They know from the beginning all I want is their body.”

  “How lucky for them. They have the rainmaker of Chicago all to themselves for a few hours, better make the most of it while they can.”

  “I do.” As parting words go, they make me want to punch him.

  Turning to the radio as I make my own breakfast, the place always seems so quiet. Taking a page from his book, I make soft-boiled eggs, toast, and a half-slice of ham, with toast and coffee. Checking my phone while I eat, an alert goes off on my calendar. It tells me today is when the last of his monthly bills should come in. I make a note to go get his mail before I start cleaning his bathroom and bedroom. Kitchen clean, I defrost some chicken breasts for dinner. Although he’s been out every night, I still cook enough dinner for two. When he doesn’t come home, I have something for lunch the next day.

  Kitchen cleaned, I go downstairs to get the mail. As I usually do, I look into the workout area and sigh. I’ve always told myself if I had access to a gym I would use it at least three times a week. After the apartment is clean and I do the bills, today is the day. I could make it for fifteen minutes on the elliptical, maybe.

  As I go through his bills, I key in the balances, then click the links to make the payments. One of the bills strikes me as wrong. I go through the spreadsheet, it’s there for the last four years every month. But why? Why is there a cyber security fee every month that doesn’t pop up or show on the home laptop? Maybe it’s on his work computer? He sees me poking around and instant messages me what’s up. I ask him if the name of the cyber security program is on his computer. There’s a pause, he knows where to go and does a search, no. I respond I’m looking for something, no worries, I’ll talk to him later.

  Crap, I know just enough about computers to make me dangerous. I’m not saying anything until I’m absolutely sure. Once more, I search for it on the computer and it’s not there. I search the spreadsheet to find when it started showing up. Oh, shit.

  For a long minute, I don’t know what to do about what I’ve found. Of course, I need to tell Ethan but how and when? Confused, I need time. I head out of the office and into my room. Changing into sweats, old tee shirt, and a sports bra, I put on my new shoes and decide to think while working out.

  Going into the exercise room is overwhelming, it’s huge. Everything is big and shiny. I have no idea where to begin.

  “Hi, I’m Roseanne. Can I help you out?” The woman is tall, thin, with the kind of muscle tone and definition I would give up a pinky for. She also looks sincerely nice. Her expression isn’t one of judgement for me being fat.

  Normally, I would shy away from anyone offering me help in a gym setting. “Umm, yeah, that would be great. I’m not even sure where to start really.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  Shrugging, “Tone up, slim down a little. I’m not a jogger or looking for anything intense.”

  Her smile is reassuring. “That is a great goal. You don’t have to be a jogger. If you aren’t used to wo
rking out, then walking is really the best thing for you. Let’s go get you on a treadmill.”

  “Not one of the ellipticals everyone is always on?” I eye one of them.

  “No, all you need to do is walk. I promise it will be much better for you. We are going to start slow, at the pace that works for you, don’t worry about how long or fast you can go. Gradually you will build up. What we’ll do is move up and down the incline to change up your resistance. This can go all the way up to an eight, for now, let’s just go up and down to a three. A few minutes at one level, then move it down, or up to your comfort level. To start the machine, just start walking and it adjusts to your speed. Don’t push yourself too far, if you do, then you won’t want to come back. If all you can do is ten minutes then ten minutes is all, and that’s okay.

  “I’m here to help you, to push you past your comfort zone but I’m not here to make you suffer. I’ll be over there with some other trainers. We’re all here to help you.” She goes to where two other male trainers are talking animatedly about what I can hear is a recent game.

  I start walking and the machine lights up like something out of the future. It tells me my speed, my incline is zero, the calories I’m losing, and there is a beeping noise telling me to put on the heart rate gauge. For a few minutes, I’m simply captivated by the panel then move the incline up by one. Used to walking everywhere, I’m proud of my twenty-five minutes and moving the incline up and down several times. Then the hamstring on my left leg begins to protest. I hit the simple stop button.

  Roseanne hands me a white fluffy towel. “Very good. Now is the fun part. You’re going to be losing weight without doing anything.”

  Coming from a family of muscle bound brothers and father I know we’re heading to the weights. I’m insulted when she picks up the three pound free weights. She sees my look. “I believe you can lift more than three pounds. You want tone, these and the number of reps you do will tone.” Patiently, she moves me slowly through each movement, she shows me three movements. “For now, you are only doing three reps of ten. We will build up from there.”

  Sitting behind me, she watches my movement carefully. “I have to tell you that I think it’s great you are making slow changes without a huge goal in mind. The problem is it isn’t easy to achieve those goals quickly enough to keep most people going. Really, the only goal should be to feel good and be healthy. I know a few people your current size who are healthier than people would assume, with a lower cholesterol than me, even. I worked a desk for years until my doctor told me I was unhealthy, with my numbers high.”

  Finishing the second movement, I sigh. “I grew up with a Marine father made of muscle and a mother three inches shorter than me, who probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet. She portioned our food out for growing boys and a Marine. Portion control was something I had no concept of for years. Then I got annoyed with all the focus on my weight. Never mind I was doing all these other good things, my dad was constantly harping on my weight. I’m pretty sure I stayed heavy just to make him mad. I was an eighteen for years.

  “When I moved to Chicago four years ago, I was forced to move. I sold my car because it was more expensive to have it than not. It helped get me down to a sixteen in only six months. Then I got a job a few years ago that started me going up and down between a eighteen and sixteen. I’ve been a sixteen now for two months and I don’t want to go back up. I’m not trying to be a size four or anything. I don’t want to freak out over the pressure. Mainly, I want to maintain and tone up. I also I started a cleaning job recently. I didn’t realize how out of shape I was until every day when I finish I want to crawl into bed and take a nap.”

  “Hey, give yourself some credit. Cleaning isn’t an easy job, and a size four is overrated. I’m happy with my size eight.”

  Looking at her, I’m astonished. “I thought you were smaller than an eight.”

  “It’s the muscle, I have to go up. Designers don’t account for the slightest amount of muscle in their clothes. That’s important, losing weight should only ever be about making yourself happy. Okay, you have your work out for today. I hope to see you tomorrow. I’ll be off the day after tomorrow, though. Cole and Ryan will be here. I promise they are cool.”

  “Thanks, I’m Holly by the way. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As I go upstairs I wonder, am I working out to get attention from Ethan, or because I want to? I barely finish the thought, no, this was definitely not about Ethan. I’m sure he would never be attracted to me, even if I did make it down to a size four. What I told Roseanne was the reason. I want to tone up and I was embarrassed by how tired I am when I’m done cleaning, and I usually have to take short breaks.

  Going back up to the condo, I take a quick shower then massage in some oil. During the workout I figured out what to do. I start with a text, Ethan hates to text. If he calls me it means he can talk. If he texts back it means he’s busy. Three seconds after I hit send on the simple text asking if he’s busy the phone rings in my hand. I bring up the excel file so he sees it on his computer, he clicks out of a file he’s in. “What is it?”

  “I’ve gone over your expenses twice for going on three hours. It’s clear Sharon is stealing from you.”

  Silence. “Show me.” His voice is steel.

  I highlight the cells. “All these charges are for a security program on the computer that doesn’t exist. I’ve searched the computer a dozen times, it doesn’t come up. It didn’t start until almost a year after Sharon started working for you. I checked the address of the program, it’s a post office box. A call to the postal service got me the information that it’s in the name of Stephen January, January is Sharon’s maiden name. Probably her son or something. There are also invoices for repairs to the laptop in the name of a computer repair company with an address the same as the post office box. On one, you are signing off, on the other Cora was signing off, so neither one of you knew. They vary in charges of two hundred fifty up to five hundred dollars.”

  He’s quiet for so long I check my phone to make sure the phone call didn’t drop. “I’ll handle this. Good job.” With a click, he’s gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fucking hell! I go through what Holly has shown me and do the same searches to confirm, as she had done. I call my private investigator and tell him what I need. He promises to get right back to me. Going through, I total everything. I’m pissed, she’s stolen forty-two thousand dollars over the past four years. This bitch has stolen from the wrong man.

  The other partners are able to conference with me immediately. As I never call a conference, I’m sure it’s mainly out of curiosity. I tell them what I’m going to do. I’m telling them out of respect, they know I’m not asking. Leonard Harker, a partner retiring in a week, gives me my first good news of the day. I can have his secretary when he leaves. Opal is the best damned secretary here, I thank him for the offer, letting him know I’ll ask her. Back in my office, I make two calls and call in a favor. My guy has faxed over the documentation I need.

  Fifteen minutes later, I get the call from main reception, they are on their way up. Seconds later two uniformed CPD officers are handcuffing Sharon while reading her rights to her. I watch from my office, satisfied at the sight. Printing out everything I have, I go downstairs to follow the police car.

  Once I get inside, I hand over everything, making it clear I want to press charges. I also make it clear I won’t settle for anything less than jail time. Mitchell Ryan, the prosecutor who will be handling the case, tells me good news, there was a previous conviction under her maiden name. With that, he can get me the jail time I want, he’ll offer a plea deal of five years and restitution. Even though I know she’ll likely only serve half that, and I’ll likely never see a dime, I’m satisfied.

  It’s a little after six by the time I’m ready to leave the station. I call Holly. “Get dressed, wear one of those new dresses. We’re going out to celebrate.”

  “You confirmed it and fired her?”


  “Not just fired. She’s going to jail.”

  A gasp, “Jail? I feel awful.”

  “You shouldn’t. Sharon is a thief, not you. Who knows how many others she stole from? Now she’ll have it on her record for the next person who considers hiring her. I’ll be home in about a half hour.”

  “Ethan, I’m sure I don’t have anything nice enough to go out with you.”

  “If you don’t find something then I will. Finding out I’ve been robbed and putting the person away has me feeling in the mood to celebrate.”

  Her sigh is loud. “All right, I’ll find something.”

  When I get home, the door to her room is closed. I knock, I hear her muffled voice tell me to give her another ten minutes. Looking down at my suit, I make the decision to change my shirt and tie. In my closet, I change out of my snow-white shirt for another. Then exchange my blue striped tie for a gray tie to match my suit. Opening my door, I watch as Holly walks out of her room.

  My cock salutes the dress she picked out and her straightened hair. The dress is a shift dress in a dark red, stopping a prim two inches above her knees with a three quarter sleeve that goes to her elbow. She’s not just pretty, she’s beautiful to me with her smile wide as she sees me. While the dress isn’t a big label, she makes it look like one, it’s stunning on her. Shit, my stomach knots at how much I want her.

  “You should allow Amelia to take you shopping more often. Not only does she have good taste, she can talk you into dresses you’d never buy yourself.”

  “I have good taste.” She defends herself.

  “You like the White Sox, I already know you have good taste. I also know you’d never allow yourself to buy a dress that nice.”

  Shrugging, she nods. “Money was always tight in a three children home in the military, with a stay at home mother. The idea of spending money on myself is hard to do still.”

  “Let’s go.” I’m staring, longing to touch her curves. Downstairs, I make sure to open her door before Ricky gets to it. The drive to Goldfinches is quick. I haven’t been in a while. It’s one of my favorite places to have dinner though.