Sitting up, I looked around but saw no evidence of him anywhere. The door to the en suite bathroom was open and I listened for the sound of the shower. Nothing. Scanning the room, I saw my clothes lay neatly folded on a high backed chair near the window, and on top of them was a note.

Immediately, my stomach twisted into one huge knot. A note after a night of sex was never a good sign. A thousand scenarios raced through my mind, almost all involving him saying goodbye in his own way, probably with as few words as possible.

There was no point in putting off the inevitable. Whatever he had to say in that note, I had to deal with, so I threw off the covers and walked my naked self over to where my clothes lay. As I dressed, my knotted stomach did flips and a tiny sense of sadness made me choke up. I liked Tristan and thought we had shared something special.

The paper was folded in half, and I opened it slowly to see a much longer letter than I'd expected. Maybe that was a good sign, I thought, as I began reading.

Nina,

I've enjoyed our time together more than you can ever know. I truly do love your honesty because it makes me want to be honest with you. Toward that end, I offered you a job and it's yours, if you want it. There's only one condition: if you choose to accept the offer, you must agree to be in my employ for six months. After those six months, you may choose to end our arrangement, but you will be contractually obligated to stay for those months.

If you agree to this offer, all you must do is sign the contract I've left with Rogers. Whatever you choose, you must do so before you leave this house today and your choice will be final. To prove I'm sincere, I've also left a $20,000 advance check for you. If you prefer to have it deposited into your bank, simply tell Rogers and it will be done by end of business today.

I believe your talents are far more than ordinary, Nina, and hope you will take me up on my offer. Whatever happens, know that the night we spent together likely meant more than you can imagine.

Always,

Tristan

I stood staring at the sheet of stationary in my hand, stunned at what it said, as the dread unraveled inside me. I could have the job as assistant curator if I wanted it, but I had to agree to work for him for at least six months? What an odd length of time. Would I be sleeping with him during that time? Or was the previous night all there would be to our lovemaking? He'd said our time together had meant something to him, so maybe we would continue dating?

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Questions multiplied in my mind the more I thought about his offer. Of course I wanted the job, but he hadn't even mentioned a salary. I quickly dismissed this concern as ridiculous considering how much I was getting paid by Sheila. Tristan hadn't come across as cheap, so he'd likely pay me better. If only all the other questions I had about his offer were so easily put aside.

Why hadn't he spoken to me personally instead of leaving a note and having me deal with his butler, who I knew only as a faceless voice that had interrupted a very hot moment? And why had he included the stipulation that I must sign the contract that day, which meant I wouldn't be able to have anyone else look at it before I committed to everything it entailed?

I'd been worried that a note after a night of sex with him meant goodbye. Now I was worried about what it meant if I decided to stay in his life.

Maybe Rogers had Tristan's cell number so I could talk to him before making my decision. Sure this could help me, I walked down the hall to the main part of the house to find the butler. He was standing in the foyer, almost as if he were told to wait there for me, and nodded as I approached.

Rogers looked like every butler I'd ever seen on television, and as I prepared to speak to him, I had to push down the urge to giggle at how stereotypical he appeared. He wore a dark suit, and his steel grey slicked back hair sat atop a head that showed he was at least in his sixties, I guessed. His face was long, not naturally but from what appeared to be years of frowning, if the lines around his mouth were any indication. However, he didn't look unfriendly. Just unhappy.

"Hi," I began, unsure how to approach this situation with a man who must have known I'd slept with Tristan the night before. I wasn't embarrassed, but I liked to keep my romances a bit more private.

"Miss, the master has left your contract to sign, if you so choose," he said in a deep voice as he handed me a pile of papers followed by a very expensive pen.




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