The Contract

“I told you. I told you, didn’t I? Your stupid signature cost us everything!” He grumbled next to me as we walked through the muddy trees, we were in an area that I didn’t recognize. I rolled my eyes, more than annoyed by his incessant griping. “Yes, you told me. You are lord and master of the Earth and are obviously all-knowing with no responsibility for our situation whatsoever.” I huffed sarcastically, my feet slipping as the moss on the log underneath me shifted. It wasn’t a very large tree, but because I stood at five foot two, I had to climb over or risk being left behind; at least, that was what I had found out over the last hour in this god-forsaken forest. “I could do without the sarcasm, miss.” He responded, his tone taking on an icy quality that let me know I had offended him and that there was no apology coming my way any time soon. He started taking longer strides, stepping over the brush with ease. “And I could do without your constant bitching, but it looks like neither of us is going to get what we want.” I muttered, swatting a mosquito away from my face. I heard another aggravated sigh, and I smirked as I continued on what seemed like the path back to civilization. My neck was slightly sore from the camera bag hanging around it, my Nikon safely enclosed within. I shifted the strap over my shoulder, the nylon brushing against my side as my shirt rose up slightly. I reached up and pushed my hair away from my face, the dark tendrils sliding back into my field of vision almost instantly. I pursed my lips and left it be, knowing that trying to fight my hair without an elastic or at least ten bobbies would get me nowhere. As another sapling snapped my way from the oh-so considerate gentleman in front of me, I thought about what had gotten me into this situation. I stepped out of the Washington humidity and into the heavenly air-conditioning of the restaurant I would be working in. I could hear screaming in the back and as I looked over, it seemed the independent contractor I was going through could hear it too. I could tell this job was going to be a tough one, but the money involved would go towards Karah’s surgery next month. I chewed on my bottom lip as I walked over to the man sitting there, a pressed suit fitting snugly on his frame. His suit was black with a crisp white collared shirt underneath the blazer, and a crimson tie adorning his neck. He stood as I approached, a gleam in his eye that instantly had me wary. “Mr. Luc?” I asked, holding out my hand. He smirked slightly, taking a moment to look me over in a way that was more of an assessment than anything condescending or crude. He nodded slightly and reached out his hand, the cool temperature of his palm startling me slightly, even as I shook with a firm grip. “Mrs. Sanson, I presume?” He asked, although he seemed fairly confident in what my response would be. “Ms, and yes, that’s me.” I said in response, looking at him with a small, professional smile on my face. “Pleasure to meet you.” He took a moment to look at me again, a calculating look on his face that did not sit well with me. “You, as well, Miss. Shall we?” He gestured toward what I was assuming was the kitchen, the screaming still coming through the hallway that separated us from the cook-staff. I nodded, straightening my shoulders as I took the lead into the belly of the beast. “Hey! Sanson!” I heard snapping in front of my face, the irritatingly handsome mug of the arrogant man I was trapped with only a few inches from my nose. “Yes?” I asked, lurching backward a step as I registered just how close he was. His face became less attractive as he sneered, his high cheekbones disappearing with the curl of his lips. “I said that we are almost to Eatonville. I grew up around here, so I know where we are now, we should be there in another two miles or so.” My heart clenched as I thought of Karah, probably terrified at home alone, and I nodded, new vigor in my steps. He scoffed at that, his eyebrows turning down over his brilliant blue eyes. “Eager to get home to someone?” I furrowed my brows but shrugged off his strange reaction. “Yes, you could say that.” I said, my mind returning to Karah almost instantly as I worried more. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to your husband soon enough.” His voice was filled with venom, and I blinked slowly in shock. “I’m not married.” I said, although it sounded sort of questioning, even to my own ears. I was completely baffled by this turn of events. His lips curled up in disbelief once again. “That’s not possible.” His voice rang with conviction as my head spun slightly. That gave me an edge to my own turbulent feelings as anger started to mix in with the confusion. “What the hell do you mean?” I asked, my voice finally sharp like I wanted. Good, being angry was easier. He shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets and scuffing his shoes along the pathway he led us to. His head was ducked low, so low that I couldn’t make out his face, even from my vantage point. All I could see was his wild brown hair, his hands having run through it time and again since we got stuck out there. The look of his hunched shoulders reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t put my finger on who. “Do you think maybe we should introduce ourselves if we are going to be stuck out here?” I asked, trying to extend some sort of olive branch. His head snapped up at that, a look of disbelief on his face. “Where was that question during the hour and a half that we’ve been walking?” I looked down, feeling a little guilty. “Besides, who says I want to know anything about you?” Oh, nope, there goes the guilt. I glared at him and watched as a foreign emotion passed over his eyes. “Sorry for trying to be a decent human being.” I bit out, my arms wrapping tighter around my waist as a chill stole through the trees. I heard him sigh, although this sounded like more of a resigned sigh than his earlier aggressive ones. “My name is Nathaniel Alan. You can call me Nate.” He mumbled, and I frowned as the name struck a chord within me. I scrunched up my face as I desperately chased the memory down, and ultimately failed. I shook my head as a headache started to come on. “Can I call you Alan instead?” I asked, massaging my temple with one hand. The sound of twigs breaking stopped next to me, and I looked up to see him paused, his mouth open a little in what seemed like shock. I nudged him with my elbow. “You good?” I asked. He slowly nodded, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Yeah, you can call me Alan.”