Contract Renewed (Contracted Book 3) Read online

  To think, I was once thankful for global warming.

  I hadn't left Nathaniel's estate after dark or walked out on a balcony to look up at the night sky. I also didn't know a great deal about stars, only that in different places on Earth, different stars could be viewed. Over my slum for the winter months, one could look up and see Orion the Hunter. Besides the Big Dipper, I could identify no other constellations.

  Not even the Little Dipper, but then the stars never had much interest to me.

  Like a life outside the slums, the stars were beyond my grasp, and I tried not to reach for that which I could never have.

  I went inside and showered alone. Once clean, I wrapped myself in a towel to wait as Nathaniel showered.

  We had left his estate with nothing, so I was a little baffled as to what he wanted me to wear to dinner. He hadn't been specific and hadn't told me where to find clothing.

  He came back out with a towel wrapped around his waist and frowned at me.

  “Dress,” he said.

  “In what?" I asked. "We didn't bring any clothing with us, and I don't think sundress minus a bra is acceptable for your dining hall."

  Nathaniel walked to the wardrobe—for the room was furnished like a rich person's bedroom right down to the expensive looking paintings—and pulled it open, revealing a single dress and a single suit. He grabbed the suit and went into the bathroom.

  I glared at the dress but pulled it down.

  It wasn't the opalescent ballgown that had been in my wardrobe before, nor was it meant for a ball of any sort. At least I had that to be thankful.

  The dress came up over my shoulders but had no real sleeves, with a high neckline and low back line. If it weren't for the tag in the back, I would have thought that was the front. There was a built in bra, which I had to play with to get comfortable in, a long skirt with one layer that moved each time I shifted my weight, and it was a dark emerald colour.

  Nathaniel left the bathroom wearing a dark grey three-piece suit with a tie that matched my dress. He was silent as he walked to the door and retrieved a pair of black dress shoes.

  “No one should bother us, but if they do, you don't owe them answers of any sort," Nathaniel said. "Verbal gag in place. You are to speak to no one but the waiter, and that is only to give your order or request something. Myself excluded, of course. Understood?"

  “Yes, Sir,” I said.

  And just like that, we slipped back into our places. Nathaniel sighed out as he stepped up to me and ran his fingers through my hair. The motion was almost loving in nature.

  By that time, using a hairdryer was simply a part of my cleaning routine. My hair was dry, though it was at an awkward stage of growing out. I didn't like the way it looked, and couldn't style it in any fashion.

  “Be good, Darling,” he murmured, then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “If ever there was a night for you to be good, tonight is it.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  That night was for me to be on my best behaviour. The next morning was when Nathaniel had to be on his. It was definitely a trade off, though I didn't think of it like that at the time.

  I simply took Nathaniel's offered hand. He set his other hand on my hand and patted it gently. Without a word, he led me out of the rooms.

  And no, I didn't forget to tell you what shoes I was wearing, I went to dinner without them.

  The flooring of the hotel was completely clean and most of it was soft, lush carpet. My dress brushed the floor at all times, so no one knew that I wasn't wearing shoes. Except perhaps Nathaniel, who hadn't had shoes placed in the wardrobe for me to wear along with the dress.

  Going to dinner barefoot wasn't the waltzing about naked that I enjoyed so much. Perhaps Nathaniel saw it as control over me. I had no idea if Mr. Wrightworth had told Nathaniel about my walking about naked, how I liked to taunt him.

  Nathaniel led me to the elevator, which took us down and opened directly into the dining hall. A man in a vest and dress pants took us to a table that overlooked the budding city on the other side of the hotel.

  I stared out at the city, only slightly larger than the slum still, but it was growing rapidly. With a light touch from Nathaniel, I woodenly took my chair and continued to stare at the city.

  All lit up at night, like millions of stars fallen to the earth.

  “I didn't realize there was something there,” I said.

  “You can't see in the dark, but at the very edge is a line of automated factories," Nathaniel said. "I had everything automated, first of its kind. But to run the factory we need specialized technicians on call at all times. They and their families moved here, which drew in more people and is drawing in more people yet again. It's the way anyone can influence an economy. Of course, if I shut down the factory, or it were to be discovered that I was breaking the law by having a submissive, then the economy might collapse."

  Rich people serve a purpose beyond just preening themselves. I understood that before, but to see a city that had been built just because Nathaniel had made a choice was frightening.

  It's no wonder most rich people have God complexes.

  “The factory, though, is just paper. Not even pulp. Pulp can lend a terrifying smell to the area around it, so I ship it in because the paper from that factory is made for rich people only. They claim you can smell a pulp mill on the paper even months later, which isn't true at all.

  “Not having a pulp mill, and the factory looking just like a box basically, I've surrounded it with a zoo of animals native to the area. You can't always see moose, but when you can, visitors lose their minds. I hope to build everything else into a tourism spot. Not just for people from this country, but for those from other countries as well.”

  Show off.

  I glanced around us, then leaned towards the window and pointed to a building.

  “I helped build that,” I said.

  Nathaniel smiled, looking up as the waiter brought a bottle of wine that neither of us had ordered. As the wine was poured, I looked out over the city below me and pointed to another building, then another one. Nathaniel knew what my pointing meant, so no words were required.

  After the waiter had left, I turned my full attention back to Nathaniel.

  “They built this hotel right beside an office building,” I said.

  “That office building is where everything is run from. From the tourism trade to this very hotel. It's a head office, a hub for the city. Not quite like a city hall, but close enough."

  “That was where I got run over,” I said, picking up my wine glass.

  “This trip isn't about revenge, Darling,” Nathaniel said.

  I shrugged and shook my head.

  “What would be the point? To see the shocked face?" I made a surprised face. "Please, then I'd just be another cunt who caught herself a rich man and threw away her morals and beliefs."

  “Well now, I don't think that's a word you need to say again,” Nathaniel muttered.

  “Cunt?” I asked.

  “More of words like, 'caught herself a rich man,' I find that the less power you give to a single word, the less power it has over you. I'm not caught. You didn't catch me. If anything, I caught you."

  “And now that I'm in your net... what do you plan to do to me?” I asked playfully.

  Nathaniel blushed, looking up.

  A moment later the waiter appeared, and Nathaniel ordered for the pair of us. The waiter left as I sipped my white wine, rolling the liquid over my tongue. I supposed that Nathaniel had seen the waiter walking over, or his looking up was a motion meant to draw the man over to take our orders.

  With a glance around, Nathaniel leaned in slightly. I leaned in as well, not wanting to miss his words.

  “You get nothing until you prostrate yourself before me,” he said.

  A dash of cold was what his words were to me. I wanted him to take control, not to give it back to me, certainly not to make us not playing on me.

  “Like when you visit
ed me in the gym,” he said with an almost smile as he sat back.

  The ice was gone from his green eyes again. Nathaniel almost seemed flushed as he picked up his wine. I recalled that day in the gym quite well, but my reaction had been based on the fact that he had started things and hadn't finished them. Being near the slum put a mean sort of edge to me, it didn't make me want to submit.

  It made me want to bite someone.

  As I thought that, a woman approached the table, all bright eyed and smiles. Her entire focus was Nathaniel.

  “Nathaniel?” she asked with a gasp. “Nathaniel Edwards, is that you?”

  He very politely gave her his full attention.

  “It is, yes.”

  “I thought it was you, I spotted you from across the hall, I'm over there with Don, you remember Don?" she asked, paused just long enough to take a small breath and then continued as her attention swung to me. "Well, Don and I thought we'd see what all fu—"

  When she laid eyes on me, she just stopped. Mid-word.

  I remember her face when it happened. At first, there was surprise, then everything just sort of fell, like she couldn't believe her eyes. Like I was a horse at the dining table. There was a full minute of silence as I stared back at her, mute.

  Like a fucking blow up doll.

  “Yes, this is Isabella Martin,” Nathaniel said. “Is there a problem with that?”

  The woman turned woodenly to Nathaniel. As she did so, I picked up my wine glass—only to sip. I don't care what Nathaniel says about the look of rage on my face—and made eye contact with Nathaniel.

  If anyone were going to get that wine in their face, it would have been him. For taking me to the restaurant and not preparing me. Instead, I sipped the wine and placed it back on the table where it belonged.

  “No, who you dine with is your business," she said, but the words sounded funny like she was a ventriloquist dummy or something.

  “Oh good, because here comes our food,” Nathaniel responded.

  The woman turned on her heel and floated off, nose in the air. The waiter replaced her a moment later, placing a dish in front of Nathaniel and then one in front of me. He left without saying a word, though he did cast a sidelong glance towards the woman as she took her seat some distance away.

  After the waiter had left again, Nathaniel picked up his fork and looked at me expectantly. My fingers didn't seem to want to work, but I did the same thing.

  We ate in silence. Suddenly my appetite was ruined. I felt as if everyone in that dining hall was watching me and talking about me. Rich people believe a great many things to be rude, but for some reason having a phone out and at the table wasn't one of them. It was entirely possible they were all texting one another about Nathaniel's dining companion.

  It bothered me that I didn't know why there was a problem. Was it the fact that I as from the slums? Or the fact that I had pressed charges against Alfred and Mayfair?

  Did that particular restaurant have issue with poor people eating alongside rich people?

  Though, looking across the dining hall, I spotted several poor people also gawking at me from the tables. They had an undisturbed dinner with their contract holders.

  Once the food was cleared away, Nathaniel stood and offered me his arm without comment. I took it, and he led me out of the dining hall and to the elevator. When the doors opened, there were several rich people standing there, phones out and wide-eyed looks on their faces.

  “Out,” he snapped.

  They bolted.

  For the first time, I wondered what sort of rich person Nathaniel was that he could tell other rich people to get out and they would run away like poor people threatened with more debt.

  He pulled me onto the empty elevator without so much as a comment or a glance in my direction.

  The elevator doors closed.

  Without warning, Nathaniel pinned me to the back wall by my wrists. His hot body pressed tightly against me. His lips captured mine. There was a neediness in his kissing as his tongue thrust into my mouth. With a small whimper, I submitted but pulled at my wrists ineffectually.

  Nathaniel responded by raising my hands above my head and pinning my small hands with one of his. I couldn't help but 'struggle' against him.

  There I was, being pinned by the man I had been fantasizing about for so long. Pinned! I didn't even have to make him chase me. I moaned once, then stiffened as I recalled that we were in an elevator of a popular hotel. It could stop at any moment and let more people on.

  Then he kissed me again and all thought of escaping for the sake of preventing public embarrassment went straight out of my head. He kissed me the way I thought he would have after Mr. Wrightworth had left as if we had been apart for many months and he longed for me.

  The heat of his body, pressed so tight against mine, made me writhe with need. Nathaniel's free hand drifted down my side, gripping my hip possessively as his lips turned to my throat.

  Every fibre of my being ached for this man. The heat between my legs was overbearing. I didn't know what I'd do if he denied me another night.

  “Please,” I moaned.

  Nathaniel stepped away as suddenly as he had pinned me. I almost collapsed to the floor. The only thing that saved me was the back wall. Panting, I looked up and met those cold green eyes as Nathaniel wiped at his bottom lip idly with a finger.

  His lips curled upwards just slightly.

  “If you're good tomorrow, then we can discuss the possibility of you being able to come,” he purred out as the elevator doors dinged and then opened.

  I gulped, surprised that he would say such a thing.

  Me? Behave around my family?

  Chapter Five

  Perhaps I should elaborate a little bit.

  When I was two years old, my older brothers—successfully no less—tried to trade me off for a bushel of apples. My mother found out four hours after the deal and only proved that I was hers thanks to having registered me four years early for my genetic debt.

  When I was six, my father's way of entertaining me was tying me into a harness and hanging me off the platform he was working on. He didn't do it to entertain me so much as to place me somewhere that I couldn't cause trouble.

  Don't get me wrong. I freaking loved that, but still. Hanging a six-year-old from a high-rise by a harness?

  Now that I think about it, it's not surprising that I love bondage and suspension.

  Half my childhood was spent fighting. The other half was spent hiding from my mother. My relationship with my brothers was to the point that when my eldest brother had signed off on the first contract he hadn't gotten in trouble because it just seemed par for the course.

  So sitting in the car, just outside the building where my family lived, I was worried about what Nathaniel would do to me if I were bad.

  “What counts as bad, again?” I asked, turning to Nathaniel as he shut off the car and glanced at the front doors.

  “Killing people," Nathaniel said. "I've seen some vids. I know your relationship with your brothers. However, I should remind you that you are wearing a dress and no bra.” He paused and looked me down, then back up again. “And dress shoes.”

  “And?” I asked.

  Meaning, why was it important what I was wearing. I had fought in skirts, shirts, tank tops, and even had a fight with one of my brothers while still in a leg brace. What I was wearing wasn't going to stop me.

  “And no underwear,” he added.

  “Good thing I didn't let you do my hair, you might think I was planning to become queen of the slum or something,” I said.

  “No, what I think is that you're taunting me,” Nathaniel said.

  “I am, why do you think I shaved my legs this morning?” I asked and smiled at him.

  Nathaniel took in a sharp breath and looked me up and down again.

  “Torment me all you like,” he said after a long, appreciative look. “But has it occurred to you yet, that you need to face your mother dressed like
that?”

  “Oh no...” I said, feeling faint.

  All the blood drained from my face. The world did a sickening sort of spin as I realized what he said was true. My mother would see me in a dress. There was nothing more embarrassing that my mind could come up with at that moment. Not the BDSM, not the trial, not even being on the news.

  “Oh yes,” he said smugly.

  “Oh no, Nathaniel, you don't understand. I'm wearing a dress to meet my mother! You need to take me back to the hotel right now, I need to change before she—” There was a light tapping on my window. “She's right behind me, isn't she?”

  “I don't know what your mother looks like, but not many poor people will rap on windows unless they know the people on the other side,” Nathaniel said, then smiled and waved at the person behind me.

  I turned in my seat and met the brown eyes that were so like my own. My mother was never tall, but all her boys were. She had a wider figure, but only at the hips. Most women who are short also ended up wide, which only gave them the advantage when they were twisting your ear for doing something stupid.

  Not my mother.

  From what I recall, she had never had to act on any of her threats to us, only with my oldest brother when he was a child. His retelling the story did the rest.

  With a weak smile, I opened the car door and climbed out.

  “Izzy?” she asked, looking down in disbelief as her hands motioned towards me. “That's a dress!”

  “I know, Ma," I said. "I put it on. I know what it is."

  “And those aren't steal toed boots,” she said, then looked up, her eyes pausing on my chest. “And those are your boobs. Look at them! They're huge. Did you have work done?” She peered around me and jabbed a finger at Nathaniel. “Did you give my baby girl plastic surgery?”

  Nathaniel stopped, halfway around the car. The man's eyebrows almost met his hairline.

  Obviously, that was not the question he expected to hear come from my mother. Ever so slowly, Nathaniel came up beside me and looked me up and down, then turned to my mother.