The Swearing Contract

Brunch

I woke up feeling as exhausted as I was when I fell asleep. 

I don't even think I slept at all last night, my mind was too busy wandering on this contract, and the fact that I really had gotten myself into a bad situation because of my spontaneity. 

Chase sent up a maid not long after I woke up, "Mr. Kelvin asked me to help you dress." When she said this I was confused as ever, I assumed that he wanted nothing to do with me-that he'd just throw me in this room and keep me here until I finally gave up and forfeited the bet.

"It's quite alright, I can dress myself." I tell her this, but once I open the doors of the large armoire, the fact that I'm poor and have no fashion sense with what the preps wear, hits me right in the face. Like a brick. 

"Mr. Kelvin insists I help you." This time I didn't argue, because half the clothes in this wardrobe is more expensive than my whole life is worth. 

The maid brought in several other professional figures; a hairdresser, a makeup artist, and another maid to help with decision-making. 

I would try on one dress, and maid two would disagree, I'd put on another, and maid one didn't like the seams. It was like a game of tic-tac-toe that you couldn't win. 

Finally, after two hours of just trying on outfits, I was done, "alright! If you don't make a decision right now, I will." 

The maids were quiet for some time after I spoke my mind, and I bit back my distaste in fear that I would swear. 

"I suppose the second dress looked the best on her." After I finally put the dress on, and everyone agreed it was the best for this event, they started with my makeup and hair. 

Once finished, they gave me time to look myself over. After I was alone, I worked up the courage to look at myself. 

Holy s**t. I looked... Decent. For the first time in my life I look like I haven't been in a train wreck. My normal outfits are comfy, and not a lot of effort has ever been put into them, but now I see that maybe I should try more often. 

The blue lace was definitely a plus, who would've thought I would look good in it? And the shoes are to die for! 

The only thing I was worried about, was my pastel purple hair. Before the maid, whom I found out was Genevieve, told me Calvin Klein was going to take me to brunch with his mom. 

His dying mom. His dying rich mom, who decided whether I get my money or not, in a sense. She better like me. Chase is only doing this whole deal for his mom, he wants her to think he's finally settling down. 

If I can succeed in getting her to like me, maybe this deal will go a lot smoother. It seems rather pointless for the whole deal if she dislikes me.

In a way, it's kind of sweet that Chase would go through so much just for his mom, she must be a really important part of his life.

I know, if my parents were still alive, I'd probably do the same exact thing- only without a million dollars. 

I suppose you'd do anything for the ones you love. 

I know that I would risk the whole world for Toby.

That reminded me that I needed to call him sometime. He's probably worried sick, knowing him he's probably been calling my phone nonstop.

I look up just as the door to my room opens, and there stands Calvin Klein in all his suited glory. "Listen to me, you will do as I say tonight. Don't say anything about this contract to my mother, and this should be painless." 

I roll my eyes, but I technically have to agree, "fine. But just know I'm only doing this for the money." I'm kind of a money w***e. 

"Wouldn't doubt it. Come on, we're late already." As we exited the room, my eyes couldn't help but wander down. He has a great ass. I mean, wow.

And his muscles? Don't even get me started on his muscles. Practically eye r****g him the whole time, I didn't even notice he had stopped at the end of the hallway, and I ran right into him.

This earned me a quick glare, but his face instantly morphed into a smile as his mother approached. 

Oh. My. God. 

His mom was the famous artist! I've admired her since I was little. 

I remember we hung a painting in our living room, my mom would tell me her opinions on the paintings. We'd sit all night talking about the could-be story behind all of them. Those were some good days.

His mother was practically my idol. My mom created many paintings in her image. Her artistic style was amazing; she painted with oils, acrylic, she even did masterpiece quilt designs. She was a do it all girl. 

I knew she had gotten sick, but I didn't know she was this sick, or Calvin Klein's mom.

I am speechless, literally. My blast into the past had my mind elsewhere, so I hadn't even been paying attention to the conversation, when I notice all eyes on me. "... And this is my girlfriend, Molly." His mother turns to me, my heart is leaping out of my chest. 

This is my idol, and I am going to actually talk to her. "Nice to meet you Mrs. Kelvin." Her eyes scanned over my body, in a judge mental way, I'm not sure. Finally she plastered on a smile and held out her hand, "I'm-" 

"Oh I know! You're Sylvia Kelvin! I'm a huge fan of your work, when I first met Chase I had no idea he had any relation to you!" Her smile widened, "yes, not many people associate my son with me, mainly because he's made a success in something other than art." I had never thought of it before, but Chase has made a great sum of money just by doing what he's doing, so why would he even need his mother's money?

It was a curious thought to have, but when you're rich, I suppose what's the hurt in getting even more rich? 

His mother gestured for me to enter the room, and Chase settled his hand on my back. 

I try to ignore the tingles I have on my back when he touches me. 

I look from him to his mother, and plead with the heavens that this brunch goes well. 

And so it starts.