Billy & The Beast (Ever After, New York #3) - Eli Easton Page 0,20

Okay. I’m going to get you that NDA, Billy. I’ll make sure Aaron has a copy for you to sign tomorrow morning. Basically—” he explained slowly “—you can’t talk about anything that goes on here, or tell anyone the name or location of this place, or mention Aaron, or anyone else who might be on this property, including me. Now, this is just a legal formality,” he assured me. “Because the, uh, the owner of this property doesn’t want strangers here. So by signing an NDA, you reassure him that you won’t cause any trouble. Now, can you agree to that?”

“Sure!” I smiled. “No problem.”

“You understand that if you break this agreement, you could be sued for everything you have.” He was sterner now.

I nodded. “That’s okay. I won’t.”

His eyes narrowed, but then he relaxed. “Good. Oh—what’s your salary here? Or your hourly rate?”

I hesitated. It wasn’t any of his business. Would it be betraying Aaron if I told him? On the other hand, if I resisted, wouldn’t that kind of kill the dumb act? And how big a deal was it, anyway?

“Twenty-five an hour,” I said brightly. “But I work hard for it.”

“Hmm. I tell you what,” Emmanuel said. “How would you like it to be thirty-five an hour?” He took a card out of his pocket and held it out through the open window. It was cream-colored and fancy, finely embossed with black letters, simple and elegant. Mr. Emmanuel Clark, it read.

I took it.

“I’m an old family friend,” he explained in a confidential tone. “And I worry about how Aaron’s getting on here. You email me at that address, once a week, and just let me know how he’s doing, or if anyone else shows up here.”

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t that be like spying on him?” I tried to hand the card back. An extra ten dollars an hour would be fantastic, but I wasn’t going to be his stooge.

He waved away the idea. “No, no. I’m not asking you for lurid details. Just . . . an occasional report on his general well-being, and on the well-being of the property. You see, I can’t make it up here in person as often as I like.” He added, muttering, “And apparently not often enough.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Clark.”

“Simply check in once a week or so and let me know how things are going. And text me at that number right away, would you? That way I’ll have your contact info. In case I can’t reach Aaron and there’s an emergency.”

I reluctantly put the card in my pocket. “Okay. But you don’t need to pay me.”

I wasn’t about to tell this guy anything about Aaron, and didn’t like the idea of him paying me on the side. I had the feeling Aaron wouldn’t like that. But if Emmanuel Clark wanted to hear platitudes once a week, I could give him that. Maybe I’d wax on about the pine trees and herb garden. Or, no, something super disgusting, like termites, wasps, and dead rodent carcasses. Or perhaps he’d want to hear about Jack’s health by way of his digestive track. Or, what had he said . . . bowel movements.

“In fact . . .” Emmanuel leaned toward the window conspiratorially. “Not only do I not want you spying on Aaron, Billy, I’d advise you to keep your distance from him altogether. I know how much he values his privacy. From what he’s told me, it sounds like you respect that and leave him in peace, and that’s working out. So just keep it up. And sign that NDA. All right, Billy?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Clark.”

He gave me another unhappy glance before driving away. I watched him go and sighed. It wasn’t until I heard the distant clink of the gate that I could relax.

So Aaron wasn’t entirely alone in the world after all. I wish I felt happy that he had a friend. But I didn’t like Emmanuel Clark. Unfortunately, the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Chapter 9

Aaron

After only one week of effort, Billy turned the pool a brilliant turquoise blue. I walked onto the terrace outside the kitchen one morning after breakfast, coffee in hand, and stared down at it in amazement. Wow. The water was nearly as crystal clear as Billy’s brown eyes.

I don’t know what flipped the switch in Jack’s brain, but when he saw the pool he took off running. He flew down the steps, barking like mad and ignoring my calls. At the pool terrace he did