Page 62 of Of Mercury and Mist

My mind spun, trying to look over all the angles and what this would entail should I agree. “May I see the contract, please?”

He pushed off the desk and held the device out for me. Scrolling through, the patron’s name was retracted, a black bar through the letters that would reveal his identity. “Why is his name blacked out?”

“If you should turn down the offer, there’s no need for you to know who he is.”

I nodded and went back to scrolling. The potential contract appeared okay to me, but I was still nervous about literally signing my life away in blood for a full month. “I would be able to exit at any time if it went sideways?”

“Of course. We want you to have a positive experience while employed with us. Your trepidation is understandable but think about all that awaits you. You’ll never have to worry about security or money again. You won’t age if your patron so desires. You’ll live a life of luxury and be waited on hand and foot. All of this, in exchange for your time and compliance.”

Lily had told me she had been doing this for fifty years. and she didn’t look a day past twenty-five, tops. I would be a fool to turn this chance down. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

He cocked his head. “You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m not; but I trust you have my best interests at heart. Plus, you said I could change my mind if the collaboration isn’t mutually beneficial.”

“I’m proud of you, you’ve come a long way.” Matthew patted me on the shoulder and walked behind his desk. “First things first, Lily must prepare you.”

“Is it possible I could have an arrangement like hers where I can be here and fulfill some duties?”

Matthew tapped away at his laptop before casting me a glance. “Yes, eventually, if your patron allows.”

I was going to be cut off from everyone and everything. Did I really want to do this? It was only thirty days. Thirty days and I would never want for anything ever again. And who knew, maybe I’d even like the guy and it would turn into a long-term arrangement.

A knock sounded on the door and Matthew called out, “Come in.”

Lily breezed in, smelling like cotton candy and wearing a long, baby pink, feather dress and a silver halo-style crown on her head. “Matthew!” She exclaimed, skipping over to him and throwing her arms around his waist.

He chuckled, “Don’t let Skylar see you or you’ll end up on her table next.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Oh, she knows I don’t have designs on you, I just love you.”

I could only assume Skylar was his wife. “Hi,” I smiled at her when she turned to me.

Lily came over to me, taking my wrists and turning me in a circle. “You’re so pretty it's going to be a blast getting you ready. Are you excited? You have your own sponsor!”

“A little nervous, but yes, a bit excited,” I replied.

“Lily,” Matthew got her attention. “I’m taking Skylar to the beach house in Rhode Island this weekend. Can you check with your patron if it's all right for you to assist Bryant should anything come up?”

“Sure, of course I can. I’m sure it will be fine,” she answered.

Maybe I’d have my own beach house after all of this? The thought sent a frisson of anticipation through me. It would be nice to have Della visit me at my own mansion rather than always having to go to hers.

Then I remembered the money would only be enough for such an extravagant purchase if my “arrangement” became permanent. And what was the difference between a patron and a sponsor? I had so many questions. “Hey, what’s the difference between a sponsor and a patron? Are they the same thing?”

“They are,” Matthew said. “For the most part. We tend to use the terms interchangeably,” he lifted a shoulder, “But sponsor is technically the term we use when there’s permanency. We’ve become lax with labels over time.”

“Oh,” I said, mulling the new information over. “How long have you been doing this?”

“A couple years. Lily, please assist Ashley with preparations now. I have work to do.”

* * *

Matthew’s peoplearranged a car for us, and we zipped through Manhattan’s streets before taking a left off Fifth Avenue onto a side road. We pulled up outside a building with shiny brass lettering stating, “Bellissa Beauty Spa.”

After exiting the car and entering the building, we were wrapped in clouds of fragrance and gentle music. A young-looking receptionist checked us in before leading us past a bamboo screen. The woman couldn’t be past her teenage years, and I had to wonder if she knew the exact reason I was here.

During our visit, my body was subjected to a full wax, with hair yanked out of places I didn’t even know it could grow.

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