Part of me wonders why he didn’t just bend me over the bed and have his way with me. Somehow, I think that would have been better. Instead, I’m left waiting in anticipation for what I know is coming, and freaking the hell out about it.

“Your duty will be to let me come inside one of your holes twice a day, every day. When I want, where I want.”

Twice a day. Who even does it that often? Is it normal? What’s the national average?

I’m still dumbly standing right where he left me when Keller returns, a rather large, ancient-looking brass key in hand.

“Your key. You can scan it at the front gate, the main door downstairs, and to get into the elevator. It’ll allow you onto this floor.”

“Scan?” I repeat, confused, because it looks, well, like a key.

“I mean, we like the aesthetics, and cards are annoying—easy to bend, break, or lose. But there’s a chip inside. Consider it your ID card on our side of campus. And speaking of cards.” From his back pocket, he retrieves a leather wallet, and slides a smooth black card out of it.

I’m shocked to read what it says on the front.

C. Fairmont. Keller Holdings.

“Anything you need. Furniture, clothes, all the cute notebooks in town,” he adds with a smirk.

“That’s…” I don’t even know where to start. When I finally find my voice, I ask the important question. “How did you get a card for me done so fast?”

He snorts. “My bank doesn’t exactly put me on hold when I call, little ghost. But I had it done this morning. I figured you’d need it eventually.”

I tend to struggle to look him in the eyes for long, but I make myself do it now. “You thought I’d need a credit card associated with your account?”

He shrugs, completely at ease. “Seemed like a likely scenario, and I like to be prepared.”

He makes no fucking sense. “But why?”

“Because,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting, “I want to take care of you. There’s no limit, because I know you will be circumspect. I trust, in fact, that you’ll likely spend far less than you should. But remember what I said whenever you hesitate to use it: anything you need.”

This is point-blank crazy.

“So, if I charged a round trip to Michigan to go see my grandmother for her surgery next week…”

“I’d suggest you book first class. It’s never pleasant to travel so much in a few days.”

I hear my own intake of breath.

My brain has stopped functioning.

“I still want to work. To babysit,” I reword. I’m not going to take a second part-time job if it’s not necessary. “I need…”