When the Night Falls

His hands crept up my back, leaving a delicious trail of goosebumps in their wake.

My fingers gripped the sheets as he pulled my naked body up against his washboard abs.

“Jasmine.” His deep voice sent a shiver through me.

I moaned when he kissed me, a pit of need and desire. Oh God, I was so wet.

“Jasmine.” His words ripped into me, and I let out a strangled cry. “Please, Mr. Grey…”

“Jasmine, open up! Now!”

My eyes flew open, and the dream slipped away… I must have dozed off on the threadbare couch of my apartment.

I groaned as I recognized that insistent voice. The devil himself was here.

Gathering up my strength, I opened the door. I gave my landlord a tight smile and plopped down on the beanbag chair, pointing at the couch.

“You might as well have a seat. No need to act like a guest.”

“When are you going to pay me?” he demanded.

So much for pleasantries.

“Alex, you already know about my situation. I lost my job, and money is tight,” I said, frowning.

Never in my life had I imagined I would see days like this.

Since moving to London a year ago, I’d worked as a chef for great pay. But my asshole of a head manager had threatened to fire me if I didn’t sleep with him. I flinched, remembering his cruelty and how sorry I’d felt for his innocent wife—she didn’t have a clue.

Before he could fire me, I resigned, which had inflamed his male ego. Out of spite, he’d made sure that I didn’t get another job. He’d spread lies all around London, claiming he had to let me go because of my alcohol and drug abuse.

“You’re already three months late. I don’t care if you have a job or not. If you don’t pay by the end of next month, you’re out.”

Sighing, I nodded glumly. He stood up and stormed out of my apartment.

I groaned as I thought about all the other bills I had to pay. I couldn’t even ask my family to bail me out. My parents, back in Canada, wanted nothing to do with me.

What on earth was I going to do?

My phone started ringing somewhere in the mess of my apartment. Somehow, I managed to find it before it cut off.

“Hello, Ms. Gibson. My name is Iris White. I have a job offer I think you may be interested in,” the voice on the other end said.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and checked the caller ID. It didn’t look like a spam call.

“A job offer?” I had given up applying for jobs weeks ago.

“Ms. Gibson, if you are free, can we meet? I’d prefer to explain the details in person.”

“Sure, I guess. Send me the location.”

Normally, I would never have gone to meet a random woman who’d called me out of the blue—but I was in a desperate financial situation.

I washed my face and changed into a white button-down shirt that I tucked into my jeans. I brushed my auburn hair into a high ponytail and dabbed on some nude lipstick. After putting on my confidence-boosting yellow sandals, I hurried out of my apartment.

Luckily, the address the mystery woman had texted me wasn’t that far from where I lived, so I had enough money for the train ticket.

When I reached the place—a swanky office building—I opened the impressive-looking front door and entered a small waiting area. I messaged the woman, Iris, and took a seat.

Before long, a slender woman, probably in her early thirties, walked toward me. Her chic outfit was scarily sophisticated compared to my casual jeans-and-sandals look.

I stood up, and we shook hands.

“I’m Iris. I’m glad you came,” she said, glancing over my clothes and nodding approval.

“Well, I’m badly in need of a job.”

She laughed softly.

“I know everything about you, Ms. Gibson, and I chose you for this opportunity because of your previous work.” She sat down and crossed her legs, her back ramrod straight.

Something about this woman intrigued me.

“So, what kind of job is it?” I asked, also sitting. Sure, I was desperate, but I wasn’t ready to do anything illegal.

“Childcare.”

She smiled sweetly, which was actually kind of sinister.

“You studied nutrition in Canada, and you were a chef here in London. You left the job because of your manager. Twenty-four years old, never married. A rift with your family. A work visa that needs to be renewed, or you have to leave the country. Bills to pay and a negative bank balance. Did I get all that right?”

I stood up, ready to storm out of there.

“One million dollars if you say yes.”

I froze, giving her an incredulous look.

“Ms. Gibson,” she said, “I’m not trying to make a fool of you. The job includes taking care of the child’s diet—among other things.”

I found my voice. “Other things?”

“If you are ready to accept the job, I’ll tell you the details.”

I’d never seen a million dollars in my whole life. I wouldn’t have to work for asshole managers or put up with threatening landlords anymore if I had that kind of money. I wouldn’t have to go slinking home to my parents—who had basically disowned me—and beg them for help.

I could start my own business.

Still. This was weird. I needed to be careful.

“How would I be paid? Upfront? Monthly?”

“The million would be wired to you at the end of your first year,” she said. “Minus a small monthly stipend.”

“And what if I hate the job?”

“If you leave in less than a month, you get nothing. After a month, ten thousand pounds. After that, we’d pro-rate it.”

With ten thousand pounds, I could move to another city, one where my asshole manager hadn’t ruined my reputation.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch—except information is on a need-to-know basis.”

“So I walk in blind?”

“If that’s how you want to put it.”

I took a deep breath. If I could leave my family at eighteen, I could take a risk like this.

“Okay,” I agreed.

With a smile, she pulled a file from her bag.

“This is the contract. The terms and remuneration are as discussed, and your duties begin tomorrow.

“You need to move immediately to where the child is. You must cut all ties and go without anyone knowing where you are. Your phone is not allowed. You will be provided with a new one.”

“Wait—I can’t stay at my apartment?”

“No, Ms. Gibson. You won’t be commuting to work. But don’t worry, we’ll pay off your lease.”

“You’ll pay five months of rent?”

“Of course.”

Feeling stunned and confused, I read through the contract.

Oh God. If I didn’t take this job, I’d go crazy wondering what it was all about.

I sighed. “Okay. Where do I need to sign?”

She pointed to a line.

Before I could second-guess myself, I leaned over and scribbled my name.

“Our driver will pick you up tomorrow morning,” Iris said. “Pack everything you need tonight. Our people will take care of whatever you leave behind.”

As I sat on the train heading home, I kept shaking my head. What had I let myself in for?

I didn’t really need to cut ties with anyone; there was nobody I was that close with. I’d had a few friends at work, but they’d faded away once I’d left. I’d dated, like, four boys, but those relationships had only lasted for a few weeks at most.

Half the girls I knew were getting married, and yet I’d never had a real boyfriend. I’d never even had sex. I was a sucker for erotica, but I couldn’t even masturbate. I felt too shy to do that, which sucked.

The lame kisses from those lame boys had been nothing compared to the kisses I’d read about in my favorite novels.

I paused in my packing, and my eyes flicked down to a discarded magazine on the floor.

Theodore Jefferson’s chiseled face glared up at me. I couldn’t help but shiver.

Suddenly, a loud knock at the door made me jump.

“You’ll have your money soon!” I shouted.

No response.

But when I wrenched the door open, it wasn’t my landlord standing on my doorstep.

It was Iris. Two muscular men with sunglasses and black suits stood behind her, scowling.

“Hey, Iris…”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Ms. Gibson. I forgot to tell you a couple of things. I thought I might inform you now, if you are free,” Iris said.

“Sure, no problem. I was just packing.”

“Good,” she said. “Please pack light, but be sure to bring your valuables and personal documents. You won’t be coming back to this apartment.”

I pressed my lips together. “What? I thought I’d swing by on my days off.”

“Sorry, Ms. Gibson, but you did sign the contract. I’m not free to elaborate, but you won’t be able to return here.”

“Hmm… Okay—I guess. Well then, see you tomorrow…”

But when I tried to close the door, one of the bodyguards held it open with his very strong-looking arm.

“What now?” I asked nervously, looking from him to Iris.

Iris smirked and stepped over the threshold.

“I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan. You’re going to come with us. Now.”