Thorns in Bloom A Contract of Secrets and Revenge

That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

My mind was a tangle of low-grade unease and that sticky note. Nothing else could get in.

I climbed out of bed and padded back to the kitchen just to look at it, to confirm it was still there.

Once I saw it, I stood there confused by my own behavior. What exactly was I trying to confirm?

My phone screen lit up. Another message from Benedict Fox.

"Can't sleep?"

How did he know?

I didn't even think before typing back: "How'd you know?"

The screen glowed again. "Surveillance cameras."

I tensed up and started scanning the room, eyes darting to every corner.

Another message popped in: "Kidding. Just a guess."

I stared at those words, and my heartbeat tripped over itself. This man could joke? And why was he joking with me?

"Mr. Fox, you're up in the middle of the night just to guess whether I'm asleep or not?"

This time, the wait stretched on. Long enough that I was sure he wouldn't reply.

"Mm."

One syllable. But it carried more weight than everything he'd said before, like a small stone dropping into still water somewhere inside my chest.

Twelve years of single-minded work, of taking care of my ex-husband and his family, and I'd forgotten what it felt like to be on someone's mind.

Turns out, that feeling could be captured in a single word.

But why me? Why him? If he knew I was Cindy's friend, would he still treat me this way?

I couldn't figure it out. I buried my face in the pillow and told myself: Thelma, stop overthinking. He's just worried you'll bolt and hurt his bottom line.

But my pulse wouldn't settle.

I got up to turn off the light. Outside the window, a pair of headlights flashed once.

I didn't go look. But I knew that car had been parked there for a long time.

The next day, walking into Benedict's office again, I'd pulled myself together from yesterday's mess and exhaustion.

He glanced up, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe, and said quietly,

"The clothes in the house are yours to wear too. They should all fit."

"Except the gowns." He added that specifically.

Then he shot a look at his assistant, and Miles scrambled out the door.

I walked up to Benedict. "Understood, Mr. Fox. I'll play the part of a beautiful girlfriend."

I pointed at the proposal he'd been reviewing.

"But as your highest-value current girlfriend, I'd suggest you rethink your brand positioning for the fashion label."

Benedict laughed in spite of himself and tossed the folder onto the desk. "And you're back at it."

"Never stopped." I raised an eyebrow, stepped around the desk, and stood right in front of him.

"Whether my suit has wrinkles or a dress doesn't quite hug my figure, I know who I am, and I know what I bring to the table for you."

Benedict leaned forward, barely perceptible. "There's a cocktail reception tonight. Livestreamed, start to finish. Show me what you bring to the table."

He'd invaded my personal space, so I smiled and leaned in to match him, pressing both palms onto the armrests of his chair, letting my lips hover near his right ear. I whispered,

"I don't know if it's what you want. But it's what I want to give. Mr. Fox."

As I slowly pulled back, I saw that his ears had turned the color of ripe cherries.

Made me want to take a bite.

That was when Miles rushed back in carrying two garment bags.

"Mr. F—"

"Since when do you walk in without knocking!" Benedict's voice cracked like a whip.

Miles froze in place, completely lost.

"It's because you didn't hear him earlier." I winked at Miles. "I heard it."

Benedict waved his hand, agitated. "Take her back to get styled. Don't be late tonight."

Miles gestured toward the door with an "after you."

I gave a small bow in Benedict's direction, but before I left his desk, I caught his index finger in a quick squeeze and let go. "See you tonight, Mr. Fox."

Benedict turned his head away and wouldn't look at me.

But his ears were even redder.

Before I could finish admiring the view, a sharp female voice cut in from outside. "Who's going to be late?" The staccato click of high heels followed.

A stunning woman walked straight up to Benedict and me without so much as a greeting.

I looked at Benedict. He clearly had no intention of making introductions. Irritation was written all over his face.

Out of courtesy, I extended my hand to her, ready to introduce myself.

"As if you're worth it," that beautiful face said, dripping venom.

Before I could react, she pulled a stack of photos from her bag and flung them onto Benedict's desk. "Take a look at your new girlfriend's explicit photos." She leaned against the desk, her expression pure mockery. "I have to say, she's quite the performer."

"With this kind of PR liability, I'd say the contract can be terminated right now, don't you think?"