Page 45 of The Contract

But as he walks into the bathroom in his tux, I can’t help the flutter in my stomach as he comes to stand behind me while I fiddle with the stupid white bowtie, which is more complicated than my usual cheaters. He looks fantastic. I look weird. At least I feel weird. I don’t belong in these clothes. I don’t belong at a fancy charity dinner. So even though part of me is pleased that he insisted I go with him, I’m also sick with dread.

His parents will be there. I think that’s why we’re going. I heard him on the phone the other day. I couldn’t make out everything he said, but he sounded tense, and I did catch the words,Yes, Mother. That was about ten minutes before he fucked me on the patio.

So I gather that he doesn’t want to be doing this either. Maybe that’s part of why he’s been extra intense lately.

Dante reaches around me, fingers meeting mine on the bowtie. I should drop my hands and let him fix it, but I like the feel of his fingers brushing mine. We so rarely touch like this. We’ve never even kissed.

I know that’s not what this is. We’re not a couple. We have an arrangement, one I signed my name to. He’s paying me, for fuck’s sake.

So I drop my hands and let him straighten my bowtie. He does it, then his fingers wander to my throat, making me shiver.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says.

Every time he says something like that, I light up inside, like I become what he sees. Beautiful. Desirable. Visible.

But I don’t really know how to be any of that, so I say, “I feel dumb.”

Dante frowns. “Why?”

I shrug, feeling like it’s obvious. Dante’s fingers tighten on my throat. He pulls me back against him.

“Why should you feel dumb in this tux?”

“A tux is for someone rich, who probably went to an Ivy League college. I didn’t even finish high school.”

“You didn’t?”

My face flames. Why the hell did I tell him that?

“What happened?”

“I didn’t see any point in it. It’s not like I was gonna go to college. Can we not talk about this?”

Dante’s grip eases on my throat, but his hand doesn’t move. “It’s clearly the time to talk about it.”

“Why the hell isthisthe time to talk about it? You could’ve asked me about my background anytime. You’veneverasked.”

I try to pull away, but Dante’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve never asked because I prefer learning apersonbefore I learnfacts. I’d rather put the facts in context with the person, rather than the other way around. Facts tend to obscure the truth more than reveal it.”

His words freeze me. Fuck. I never thought about it like that. I had assumed he didn’t care enough to ask.

“I’ll tell you what I already knew about you, Tristan, before these facts. It was already obvious to me that you are highly intelligent, resourceful, tough, and curious. That’s what I knew about you first. I also knew that you were isolated, wary, and angry. So the fact that you didn’t finish high school needs to go in context with all of that, not the other way around. So I conclude that you didn’t finish high school because you don’t trust systems.”

Holy shit. I don’t think evenIunderstood myself that well until he said that. What the fuck. No one has ever paid attention to me like he does. No one has ever cared enough to figure me out.

He says, “Here’s something you should understand about the kind of people who will be at this stupid goddamn dinner. Most of them are dirty as fuck. They’re not rich because they’re better than other people. They’re rich because they’re worse—or someone somewhere in the family tree certainly was.”

“So why are we going?”

In the mirror, I see his jaw harden.

“Because of your family tree?” I ask.

My heart starts pounding. I’ve been wanting to ask him about his family ever since I heard him on the phone, but he’s so damn intimidating. So, like an idiot, I went and asked him while his hand was on my throat. I’m sure he can feel my quickening pulse. I can certainly feel his tightening grip.

Then he lets out a noisy breath. His hand drops from my throat—to my pants. He unzips them.

“Dante—”

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