I’d learned a few things living here. Crownes aren’t your average, everyday entitled rich person. Like their last name, they ruled. This town, the people inside it, the world. They demand perfection. They expect fealty.

Swallowing my indignation, I dropped to my knees.

Grayson spoke after a moment, voice low. “That’s a good look on you, Snitch.”

I rolled my lips, indignity burning its way up like heartburn.

“You think you know me so well, Snitch? It’s been less than a fucking day. You don’t know shit.”

“I know you pretty well,” I mused. “Your favorite food is steak. You have a mild allergy to strawberries. You’re a Crowne, and my job is to serve you.”

“Congrats, you know what every chick with a magazine subscription knows.”

Sometimes I watch him when no one else is looking, so I know his favorite food really isn’t steak. I don’t know why he lies, but he does.

But I’m not going to tell him that.

“What is it you like about me, Snitch?” he asked, voice deceptively soft. “Do you think I’m broken, a bad boy you can fix?”

I wasn’t sure how much I should say. How pathetic I should be. To admit that I knew what he was and still couldn’t stop the fluttering in my heart.

“You know what I hate more than a snitch? Girls so pathetic they dream up scenarios where guys like me would give them a second look.”

“I never wanted you to look back,” I said quietly.

Silence weighed heavy as stone. I thought for sure Grayson was going to punish me for talking back, but he just disappeared out of my line of sight to the other side of the room, leaving me kneeling.

My knees were starting to ache and bruise against his hard floor, and I wished he’d at least let me kneel on a fucking rug. There were enough of them around, plush and soft.

I knew he returned when a packet of papers came flying at my face.

“What is this?” I asked, flipping through the pages, scanning.

Story Hale, hereby referred to as Party…

“A contract?” I lifted my head.

He gave me his trademark bored gaze. “Did you think I was just going to take your word?”

“This is weird,” I blurted.

“It’s standard.”

“Maybe for people like you…” I flipped through the pages. It even outlined what would happen if I failed and didn’t go through with my end of the bargain—damages. I sucked in a breath at the monetary amount. That was a lot of zeroes. I counted nine. It was nothing to Grayson, but to me? There was even a clause about how the damages could revert to my next of kin.

The contract stipulated two months. Two months.