Crash into Me (Heart of Stone #1)

I looked down at the contract and pen in my hands and then back up at the butler. "Yes, about that. Would you be able to give me Tristan's cell phone number? I'd like to speak to him before I do anything."

Punctuating my request with a smile, I waited for Rogers to give me the information, only to be turned down.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I do not have that information."

"You must have his phone number. You work for him," I said in disbelief.

"No, miss," he said definitively, making it clear there was no room for discussion.

Well, if I couldn't discuss it with Tristan, I at least could discuss it with Jordan. She'd be able to help. Whipping my cell phone out, I swiped my finger across the screen and saw the No Service message staring back at me.

Terrific. I was on my own for this one.

"Is there somewhere I may sit, Rogers? I need to read the contract before I decide whether to sign it or not."

The butler extended his arm toward the living room off to the right. "Of course, miss. You may take all the time you require. The living room is at your disposal. The master has indicated, however, that whichever way you decide, you must do so before you leave."

"Got it. Thanks."

I took a seat on the very formal sofa and sat back with the contract in hand, determined to read the entire thing from the first to last word. Then I began reading it. I remembered signing the student loan papers when I was in college, and this contract made those look like crayon scribblings. Clause this and part that and on and on it went until by the end of page one I'd read enough.

By that point in the stack of papers, I knew my salary would be $60,000 for the six months and I was obligated to stay in Tristan's employment for no less than those six months. I would be given health, dental, vision, and life insurance and his company, which I found out was called Stone Worldwide, would contribute to a 401K plan, matching my contributions for as long as I was employed by the company.

I knew I should continue reading as the contract went on for six pages more, but as far as I was concerned, I had all the information I needed. I would be paid, have great benefits, and finally, for the first time since graduation, I'd be able to put some money in the bank. All of this and I'd get to work for Tristan in an art gallery. That I wasn't sure what I'd be in his personal life made me wish he and I had talked about it, but I had hope that his note had been evidence of his interest in me. With a deep breath, I prayed I wasn't making a mistake and signed my name on the last page. I looked up and Rogers seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and handed me a second letter from Tristan.

"Miss, do you prefer a check or the money deposited into your account?"

"I think the deposit would work since I assume I'm going to be paid that way. Just give me the papers to fill out," I said with a smile.

"No need, miss." And with that, Rogers turned and walked away. No need? How was the money to be deposited if I didn't give my account number? Before I could ask the very same question that was in my mind, the butler was gone. Unsure of what to do, I opened the note and read more from Tristan.

Dear Nina,

I'm happy you chose to accept my offer and look forward to your involvement in Stone Worldwide for the upcoming six months. You're going to need a new wardrobe for your new position, so please allow my driver to take you to Le Ciel. I have spoken to Sheila about your resignation and she's happy to hear you've found another position. I believe she's going to miss you.

Always,

Tristan

I began to think this might be all right and wandered out the front door to find Tristan's driver standing next to a Town Car. He wore a driver's uniform and appeared as stoic as the butler. I approached him and extended my hand. "Hi, I'm Nina. I guess you're supposed to take me to Le Ciel. Where is that?"

He opened the door, bowed slightly, and replied, "Yes, miss. We'll be in Midtown shortly."

An hour later, I was standing inside a Midtown Manhattan boutique and feeling like Tristan in The Last Drop. The only difference was no one at my local bar had looked at him like he was an outsider when he walked in.

Two women walked toward me as I stood in the dress I'd been wearing for far too long, and I so wished I'd changed clothes before going shopping. Feeling self conscious, I avoided meeting their gazes, instead looking out the window at the activity on the sidewalk.