Page 33 of My Totally Unfair Deal

“That’s fine.” Janey bats her lashes. “Can me and you talk until then?”

“Your friend needs all my attention.” He smiles at her and she fans herself like he’s a celebrity. “Talk to you later.”

He ends the call, and I rise to my feet.

“Give me my phone.” I reach for it, but he lifts it higher.

“Me and the yoga instructor have been waiting for you at the yoga studio down the street for twenty minutes,” he says. “You have an appointment time and access to my driver for a reason.”

“I was going to get in the car after I talked to Janey.” I stretch for the phone again. “I have a business to check on, remember?”

“I remember your brother saying he’d call if anything was wrong.”

“And we both know he’s too proud to ever admit anything’s wrong, which is why I called Janey instead.”

“Okay.” He continues keeping the phone out of my reach. “What part of watching me walk around ‘half-naked’ was farm-related?”

“I wasn’t talking about you at all. You’re not that important.”

“Downstairs.” He tilts his head toward the door. “Town car. Yoga. Now.”

“Will I get my phone back after that?”

“You’ll get it back after you accept that the sun doesn’t rise and fall on your ass,” he says, quoting me with a smirk. “And once you prove you can show up on time.”

I have no comeback, so I pull on a hoodie and drag myself down the hall behind him.

We take the elevator downstairs, and Harold is holding the door to a black Mercedes-Benz.

As if Harrison doesn’t trust that I’ll make it to the yoga studio myself, he waits until I buckle my seatbelt and then climbs in from the other side.

“What exactly is yoga supposed to do for me?” I ask him as Harold pulls onto the street. “Just fill in the hours when you’re not teaching me things?”

“If I wanted to fill in hours with things you don’t need, I’d just let you hang out on my rooftop garden.”

“There’s a garden on your rooftop?” I suck in a breath. “Why are you just now mentioning it?”

“Anyway—” He waves off his comment. “You’re wound up really tight, and this is the only appropriate way for you to loosen up.”

“What’s the ‘inappropriate’ way?”

“A way you’re not ready for.” He pulls a stack of notecards from his pocket and hands them to me. “Here. I made these for you. Start using the first few today.”

I glance at the one on top:

Informal

Hello, my name is Eliza.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, [whatever their name is].

Slightly more formal

Good afternoon. [pause for them to say it back and extend your hand] I’m Eliza Hart, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

“There’s no way people actually talk like this.” I snort.

“You’d be surprised.”

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