Hands Off! The 100 Day Agreement Read online

  I’d gone over and over my budget but, even with saving every cent I could from my job at the store and cutting back all my expenses, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even take on a second job. Not with my course load and the part-time job. Art school is not cheap. If you are studying some course on Philosophy or Asian Religion or maybe Accounting, then you have it sweet. You buy a textbook and maybe a couple of notepads and pens. That’s your entire financial layout. When you study art, you need to pay through the butthole every single semester. Paint is not cheap, my friend, and you can’t just go buy a small, reasonably priced canvas for the painting you have imagined when you know it has to be massive to have any impact. So, you starve to death for six weeks to get the paint and the canvas and everything you need.

  “When does this exchange start?” Grandmother’s voice startled me out of my thoughts of canvases vibrating with colour.

  “Next semester. With the difference in course dates, that gives me about three months.”

  I knew the exact date. A hundred days time. If I had a year, maybe I could’ve done it. It would mean staying in the cheapest hovel and living on cup noodles but I’d have enough money saved. I’d done a hundred budgets on the backs of envelopes.

  “This is what I propose. If you behave yourself, and you know what I mean by that, for the next three months, I’ll cover all the expenses for your exchange. I’ll book the flights and arrange everything but the moment you do the wrong thing, I’ll cancel the lot.”

  Holy crapola. My heart leaped. I could do it. I could so do it. All I had to do was be discreet. I didn’t actually have to behave myself, I just had to make sure she didn’t find out. Easy money. I tried my hardest to make my mouth not turn up at the corners. I used my face muscles to push it down, to stay neutral, so that my dream couldn’t be snatched from me.

  “I’ll do it.” I said without thinking.

  “Wait until you hear all the terms. You will never succeed in life if you jump into things too quickly.”

  I nodded. I wanted it so much, I quaked. Italy. Woohoo! And take that Rebecca Forsythe, you won’t get my exchange after all.

  Grandmother picked up a folder from the table beside her. I hadn’t noticed it before. I hadn’t really paid attention though, thinking it was for one of her fundraisers for the preservation of rare orchids or other crap like that.

  She handed it to me.

  At first, I didn’t want to open it. I stared at the cover of the folder wondering if the insides would hurt me in some way. The plain beige cover concealed lurid temptations that would wrap me in their spell. I’d get offered something so huge, then she’d make it impossible for me to get it.

  The first page listed all the expenses. Wow, she’d obviously done some snooping around in my life to get all this stuff. Airfares, accommodation, materials and a living allowance that made my eyes bulge. I turned to the next page. She’d put together photos of apartments in Florence. If you were going to live in Florence and you dreamt of your absolute ideal apartment, this was the apartment you’d dream of. The perfect work and living space.

  A big part of my soul craved to live in that loft. Even though I’d just seen the photos of it, I felt like it had always been in my heart. The way the light shone through those huge old windows making patterns on the ancient board floors, the massive work table, the balcony with the view over the river.

  The rest of the documents outlined the money she’d pay and how she’d pay it. It was the kind of money that made any work I wanted to create totally doable. She had me hooked.

  “Sweet. It’s on. I’ll be the perfect granddaughter and then I’ll go to Italy.” Nothing simpler.

  You might think I’m a bad person for even thinking of trying to fool my grandmother to get that money but I figured, she didn’t actually care about me or my reputation. All she cared about was stopping all the other nosey old biddies from talking about me. And, when it came to nosey old biddies, I knew exactly who’d been saying all that mean stuff about me.

  Mrs Chatman.

  You know when you eat sour bombs and your face gets all screwed up from the sourness of them, that’s Mrs Chatman’s regular, everyday face. When I was a kid, whenever I was told not to pull faces or the wind would change and it’d stay like that, I’d think of Mrs Chatman and wonder if the wind had changed on her. Then, one day, when I was staying with Grandmother, she came to visit and I offered her some sour bombs to see what her face did when she ate them but she was all like, “gracious, I couldn’t eat a thing like that,” so I never got to find out.

  It wasn’t that Mrs Chatman hated me personally. It was this – as the only grandchild, I was in line to inherit the whole fortune. The spooky old house, the business, the cash, the whole shebang. Mrs Chatman was the president of the Society for Preservation of Rare Orchids that my grandmother loved so much. Guess who got the cash if I was in disgrace? Yep.

  Also Mrs Chatman was friends with the mother of the most dreadful Rebecca Forsythe so she’d have first-hand knowledge of my wrongdoings. Damnation. I should’ve been more careful but honestly, I didn’t even want to inherit anything. I sure as hell didn’t want it going to that damn orchid club though. If it was for stray dogs or homeless children or something, I’d be all over that shit.

  Anyway, all I knew about duplicity, I’d learnt from Grandmother.

  “I’m glad you agreed, Lucy. Now to finalise the deal.”

  She handed me a pen and I signed the paper then she rang the bell that sat beside her to call Ballard back to the room. I wondered what she meant by finalising the deal. Were we getting champagne? I hoped so, though it’d be totally out of character for Grandmother to drink champagne before lunch. I sat with my hands folded on my lap, waiting. A tiny doubt crept in, telling me this was all too easy but I pushed it aside. I deserved this. I deserved to have something go my way for once in life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The force of my shock was enough to rattle the teacups in Grandmother’s drawing room. The man that answered the bell wasn’t gnarled old Ballard with his smished in face. This guy was pretty much the hottest thing I’d ever seen. He loomed in that room like a giant in a dollhouse, even overshadowing my grandfather’s portrait behind him. It was like the masculinity he emitted filled the entire room and pushed at the edges, making them buckle and strain.

  Even the suit he wore seemed to strain over the mass of muscle beneath it, as though mere fabric was too much to hold him. I for one would not have been upset to see that body burst out of that suit. His hair had been slicked back into a Grandmother-approved style but curled at his neck as though fighting against that level of control.

  Whoa, Grandmother. Was this her new butler? Was she turning into a cougar in her old age?

  When he smiled and the edges of his bright blue eyes crinkled up, I realised I had not been visiting her nearly enough. I’d have to make it my business to pop over weekly, maybe more often than that even. I brushed my hair back and straightened my dress, smiling back at him.

  Grandmother offered him a cup of tea, which made me doubt that he did work for her. She wouldn’t offer tea to a servant. I wanted him to accept, I wanted to see those powerful hands try to clasp one of Grandmother’s delicate teacups.

  But he shook his head. Damn it, no hottie drinking tea fun for me.

  “Lucy, this is Chad Ferris.”

  I nodded. Was that name meant to mean anything to me? I knew I’d never met this guy before because I’d definitely have remembered him.

  Grandmother asked him a few questions, making small talk. I could tell from her tone he wasn’t “one of us” as she’d have said. But he wasn’t “common” either. My grandmother had a huge range of voices and topics of conversation that she used depending on where she thought someone sat on the social scale. I’m sure she had a particular tone she’d use if she ever met the Queen, which would obviously be her top drawer talking. The bottom drawer talking, well she kept that for my Dad if she ever talked to him. This Chad
guy, he got the voice she used for lawyers and doctors and people like that. The kind of people you paid to do things for you but you tried to impress. Maybe that was the same tone of voice you used for toy boys.

  Was he really her toy boy? No way. Not possible. Not unless it was opposite day or I’d slipped through a hole in the time/space continuum into a world where Grandmother had become a flesh and blood human being. I hadn’t really noticed before but Grandmother was all dressed up. She had her hair done and makeup on – but then she did that every day, even if she was just sitting around at home. It’s not like she’d ever wear a pair of sweatpants. Still, she seemed to have stepped up her game.

  You’d think she’d be a whole lot cheerier if she was getting some from this hottie though.

  When Grandmother turned to pour herself another cup of tea, he winked at me and grinned.

  Holy mother of hottoli!

  I flushed and I squirmed and my panties got damp. In Grandmother’s drawing room. With Grandfather’s grim portrait staring down at me. I crossed my legs and tried to think unsexy thoughts.

  Sex in the classroom, I was all over that. Sex in the stairwell of a nightclub, check. Incredibly hot sex in Grandmother’s conservatory was even okay. But I could not think about sex in this chintzy, stuffy room.

  If I didn’t look at him, it’d be okay. We could take it outside and I’d give him my sex eyes and he could give sex eyes back and we’d rip each other’s clothes off and do all the sex things, many times. But not there. Especially not when I’d just told my grandmother I’d keep myself nice.

  But I couldn’t help stealing another glance at him. He still had his eyes on me, the corners of his mouth curling up into a wicked grin. Normally, I did the tempting. Oh, but he was so delicious. It’d only take the slightest tug to rip that shirt off him and then I could lick those abs… I squeezed my legs even tighter together.

  Grandmother’s voice droned on and on, all about her roses and orchids and other shit. Maybe he was her gardener? He looked like he could be, with that rugged body. But then why did I have to meet him and why was he wearing a suit? Grandmother would not be serving cups of tea to the gardener for sure.

  Was there a way I could get out of this situation while managing to give him my phone number? There had to be some way to get him alone. He kept glancing at me with all kinds of mischief dancing in his eyes. What had I actually agreed to with Grandmother anyway? To not cause a scandal or to not even have sex? Maybe she’d brought this he-devil here to tempt me. It was a test. That made sense.

  Except I couldn’t imagine her paying some hot stranger to have sex with me just to prove a point. After all, she was the one to make the agreement with me and, if I broke it straightaway, the whole thing would be pointless. We’d be back to square one.

  “So, you’ve had the chance to meet my granddaughter,” Grandmother said. “I hope you are prepared for what you are about to take on.”

  I couldn’t look at him again. I opened the folder instead and found the paper I’d signed. It had a lot of mumbo jumbo written on it. Total legal talk. Who in this world has a legal document drawn up to make an agreement with their own granddaughter anyway? Most grandmothers would just hand over the cash. I could barely read it without falling asleep but I had to know the finer details.

  Yep, she’d totally put in there no sex. No congress with the opposite sex. For three months. She was right about not jumping into things. What about lesbian sex? Was that out too? That could be a major loophole.

  I read some more. Shitola, she’d covered everything. Still, it wasn’t like she could put spy cameras on me and what I did in the privacy of my own home was none of her business. Well, I guess she could put spy cameras. Maybe this hottie was the spy camera guy?

  They went on with the gardening talk and hottie must have had all the charm going on because my grandmother actually giggled and kept touching her hair like some infatuated school girl. So wrong. So very wrong.

  I turned the page and the pile of papers fell off my lap onto the floor. I bent down to pick them up but he reached down to get them for me with more grace than a man his size should possess. I could smell him, all musky and manly and that did nothing to help my situation. My entire body must have flushed bright red from the amount of heat I was giving off and my hand trembled as I took the papers from him. This was not me. I never get flustered by a man. Ever. I tried to thank him but my voice came out all strangled and weird.

  I sat back on the chair, making a big show of straightening the papers in the folder. I closed it and hugged it to my chest as though I needed some barrier between myself and this man.

  Grandmother kept talking about her orchids and he focused his attention back to her.

  I reached for my glass of water because I needed to simmer down but the glass was empty. I couldn’t even trust myself to ask for another.

  Instead, I turned my attention to trivial things. The way the colours of the room looked reflected in the cut crystal vase, the patterns on the floor rug, the lines of carving on the arm of the chair. Anything but him until I got myself under control.

  And, even though he was hot and all, I had to get to class.

  “Well, I hate to interrupt your gardening talk but I must rush off. This art won’t paint itself.”

  Grandmother gave the hottie a smile.

  “As I told you, Lucy’s manners leave a lot to be desired.”

  My manners? Hell, they’d been the ones making me suffer through their boring conversation. I thought their manners could be improved. Especially hottie Chad who kept making me get all squishy and juicy in my lady parts while talking to my grandmother.

  “Chad, would you see Lucy to her car?”

  “Huh?”

  Grandmother gave me a creepy grin. It sent a shiver down my spine like some foreboding sign. This was going to be one of those moments like when you say, “I’ll just check the cellar” in a horror movie. I knew it.

  “Did you read the contract all the way through, dear? I did tell you to.”

  Damn it, I totally had given up after I got to the whole “not even lesbian sex” bit. I was actually surprised there wasn’t a “no vibrators” clause, no sitting on the washing machine during the spin cycle, no electric toothbrushes, no sitting on the arm of the chair…

  “Section 15, clause 1.”

  I opened the folder and looked through the contract for the right section. What the heck? I had to have a “bodyguard” with me at all times to ensure I didn’t break the contract? That was just madness. I couldn’t have my own pet hottie trailing me around. Not only would it kill my sex life, it would totally interfere with any study I intended to do.

  “He’s not coming into class with me. No way. He can sit in the car park outside.”

  “And what if you try to break the contract while you are at school?” Grandmother said. “We have to account for all possibilities.”

  It had only been that one time. In the photography lab after class. That dark room gets you horny and you need to develop more than photos. Had she been spying on me? God, I hoped not.

  “I think you can trust me to keep this agreement. I gave you my word.”

  Grandmother laughed, if you can call a noise full of disapproval and suspicion a laugh.

  “He is not coming into the studios. He can stand outside and wait. There is no point to this agreement in the first place if I get kicked out of school and don’t get to do the transfer.”

  Hottie would get sick of that really fast. No one would want to stand around in a blerky corridor waiting for someone to finish class. Then I could pay him off with some hot sex and he’d do my bidding. Having a hot bodyguard was not so bad after all.

  “And what about at night? Is he going to sleep in his car outside my window?”

  “I know you have a spare room at your apartment. You have been looking for a housemate since your friend moved out.”

  Wow, she’d thought of everything. I had been struggling to get someone
in to take over Jayne’s room since she’d moved back home. I picked up my bag and headed to the door.

  “Come on then, we have to be at class in 20 minutes.”

  As Chad followed me out to the car, I thought about the delicious ways I could work this agreement to my favour. I’d have Chad eating out of my hand within the hour, maybe literally.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  We were supposed to be working on our drawing portfolio but who could concentrate when they had their hunky bodyguard standing outside the door?

  “He’s still leaning against the wall with his arms folded,” Tristan whispered. “He does know how his biceps look when he stands like that, doesn’t he? He’s doing it on purpose. He is some sweet pile of man flesh. Can I stay over at your place tonight? We can hang out and watch movies, then I could ‘accidentally’ walk in on him in the shower. It’s the least you could do for your best friend.”

  Tristan gave me the puppy dog eyes but my heart had long since been hardened against him. I shook my head. I had enough to deal with without that. If anyone was going to objectify my sexy bodyguard, it’d be me.

  “Don’t encourage her. This whole thing is nasty and wrong. Lucy, you should NOT let your grandmother control your life like this. Stand on your own feet and tell her to stick her deal where the sun don’t shine.” Jayne didn’t even look up from her drawing pad as she said this. She’d made it totally clear she didn’t approve of the deal.

  That was easy for her to say but there was stuff about Jayne that made it hard to knock it back.

  To get the chance to study in Italy, we’d all had enter into an end of semester competition. Of course, everyone in the entire course was gagging to win. It ended up being more competitive than our actual assessments.

  We’d had to create a work with the theme Dolce Vita. Jayne was a shoo-in to win. Jayne was pretty awesome anyway but she’d nailed that theme. She’d come into the studio one day, inspired, and created the perfect painting.