Chapter seven
It was too warm for her red jacket, but she put it on anyway. There was something about the fake leather that always felt like armour, and Emma needed all the protection she could get today.
She wasn't hungover, which made a nice change. She had also found time to wash and dry her hair, then style it into fat curls that tumbled down her back. Her skin-tight tank top was white and, if she stood in exactly the right position, showed off the muscles in her stomach.
She was already standing outside Regina's gallery when the clock hit 2pm. Exactly a week had passed since she'd last pressed on the buzzer.
When Regina appeared on the other side of the glass, Emma could see the confusion on her face. She unlocked the door and immediately asked, "What on Earth are you wearing?"
Emma faltered. She glanced down at her jacket and shrugged. "I like it."
Regina's mouth opened and closed, and Emma knew she'd just bitten back a sarcastic comment.
"Well, come in," she said, stepping back. Emma let herself be led up the stairs and into the same room as last time.
As she sat down on the couch, Emma was slightly disappointed by how relaxed Regina was acting. She didn't seem relieved, or even that pleased to see her again. It was disheartening to know that only one of them had spent the entire week agonising over what Emma's decision would be.
Regina got Emma a glass of water even though she hadn't asked for one, then sat down opposite with her legs crossed. Emma forced herself not to look down at them.
"So," Regina said, folding her hands in her lap. "You're back. I didn't scare you off, I take it?"
"No. Not yet," Emma said. When she swallowed, the sound seemed to ricochet off the walls. "I have some questions."
A smile flickered across Regina's face. "Of course. Go ahead."
Emma took a deep breath, suddenly regretting the jacket. She was sweating, and the plasticky leather was starting to stick to her arms.
"How many times have you done this before?"
Regina didn't look remotely taken aback by this question. "A handful. I don't exactly keep records but I would say between four and six."
"And how long did they last?"
"The longest was around five months," Regina said. "The shortest was a week."
Emma blinked. "What did he do wrong?"
"He was useless," Regina said bluntly. "Next question."
Reeling, Emma asked, "If I agreed, would our... whatever you want to call it, be exclusive?"
"You mean, would you be allowed to date other people?"
"Well, yeah. But also the same for you."
"No, neither of us would," Regina said. Emma looked for any kind of softness in her face, but she found none. "We won't be in a relationship, but as far as everyone else is concerned, we will be. I'll introduce you as my girlfriend, and girlfriends shouldn't be sneaking off on dates with other people. Appearances are important."
Emma nodded, looking down at her lap. "How long would you want me around for?"
Regina considered the question. "I suppose that depends on how compatible we are. But unless something goes very badly wrong, I'm not planning to dump you by the wayside after two weeks – I would want this to carry on for a good few months. There are a lot of events coming up and a lot of acquisitions that I have my eye on, so it would be preferable to not have to start this all over again in the fall."
The way Regina spoke like everything was a business deal to her made Emma's throat ache.
"How much freedom would I have?"
Regina frowned. "How do you mean?"
"I mean, if you tell me to go somewhere, do I have to go no matter what? Am I only allowed to talk to people you want me to talk to? Will I have to follow some kind of script, or a dress code? Will you tell me how I have to wear my hair?"
Her voice got progressively higher as she asked each question, and she could see Regina's eyebrows rising with it.
"If there is an event, I will expect you to be there," Regina started off slowly. "If you are dying of gastric flu then I may be willing to make an exception, and if you provide me with a list of pre-booked vacations then I will do my best to work around them. There are certain people who I will definitely want you to talk to, and others who I would prefer you not to, but otherwise you will be free to speak to whomever you like. I haven't written you a script, but you will be expected to have some common sense regarding what comes out your mouth and how it will make me look. The same goes for what you decide to wear."
Regina paused before she reached the final point. "And as for your hair, I can't see myself requesting any changes." She was eyeing Emma's curls as she spoke, and it took Emma a moment to realise that she was being complimented.
Emma sat up a bit straighter before she asked her next question, and then her next. Regina answered them all dutifully and, Emma hoped, honestly. The whole thing felt like a business meeting, and the way that Regina was speaking so calmly, so reasonably, was more confusing than it was reassuring.
Then Emma glanced down and realised that Regina's leg was bouncing again. She was just as nervous as Emma was – she was just far better at hiding it.
"Am I allowed to talk about you to people?" Emma asked.
"Do you mean to the press?"
"No," Emma said quietly. "I mean my friends. Anyone."
Regina seemed strangely pleased by this question. "As long as you don't mention payment, or anything that may implicate me, you can talk about me to your heart's content. The press, though, is off limits. I imagine they will come sniffing around at some point, and it's very important that you master the art of replying 'no comment' to everything."
"You could just have me sign a non-disclosure agreement," Emma said, half-joking. "That would make it a lot easier."
"I'm not going to do that," Regina said. "I don't think you would do anything to hurt my reputation – not on purpose, anyway. And if you did, let's just say I have enough resources to make life very difficult for you afterwards."
It was a strange kind of threat, one veiled behind a compliment and several captivating looks. Emma didn't flinch, but she did feel sweat starting to bead along her palms.
"Then..." Emma started before clearing her throat. "If I said yes. When would it start?"
"Right away," Regina said. "I would have some kind of basic contract drawn up, just for your peace of mind and to outline all the duties we've already discussed, and then your first payment instalment would be sent over immediately."
Again, that taunting image of stacked banknotes flashed through Emma's brain. She grimaced at just how morally repugnant she was – she wouldn't have been surprised if she had dollar symbols rolling through her eyes like a cartoon cash register.
Just as she began gnawing on a thumbnail, Emma asked, "And you're certain it's me you want to do this?"
"I am."
"Do you realise what a bad idea that is? I'm socially awkward and broke and I only own three dresses and I don't know how to—"
"Emma," Regina interrupted her gently. "Stop panicking. And stop biting your nails."
Emma snatched her hand away automatically like she'd been scolded by a schoolteacher.
"I think you have a rather low opinion of yourself," Regina said. "You're beautiful, you're funny, you've managed to battle your way into the publishing industry, and you've already survived four meetings with me. I'd argue that you're made for this job."
"But I..." Emma sighed. "The money thing. It just makes me feel dirty."
"The money is only an issue because you're making it one. If it really bothers you that much then you can take it and give it all to charity. It makes no difference to me. But you will be doing lots of work for me and losing a lot of your own time, and if I didn't pay you then I would be doing you a disservice."
There was the tiniest crack of nervousness jolting through her words, and it made Emma feel inexplicably better. She nodded, clasping her hands together in her lap. Regina watched her without blinking.
"Emma," she said after a few moments of silence. Emma was chewing on her lip now, frantically trying to piece together every scrap of information that had been handed to her. "Do you have any more questions?"
"I don't think so."
"Then I'm afraid I really do need an answer now."
Emma sighed, leaning back. Her jacket creaked as she moved.
Out the window, Emma could see Manhattan continuing to roll by. The street outside was clean and nowhere near as busy as the rest of the city, and she could just about make out the tops of some perfectly pruned trees.
She was sitting in a multimillion-dollar art gallery in a fake leather jacket that left red marks on her arms, and she was wondering whether or not she should say yes.
"Emma?"
Regina's voice made her jump, and finally she took a deep breath.
"Fine. I'll do it."
Of course she would do it. She'd known what her answer would be from the moment Regina had told her what her price was.
Emma's eyes had squeezed shut, and when she opened them again she was surprised to see that the world had continued on as normal. Nothing was on fire, and Regina wasn't openly laughing at her. Instead, she said, "Excellent. I'm glad to hear that."
She didn't sound especially glad, Emma thought – but then she looked down and saw that her knee had finally stopped bouncing.
Emma's mouth, meanwhile, had turned to sand. She reached out for her glass of water and gulped half of it down.
"So," she gasped after finally coming up for air. "What happens next?"
By way of response, Regina stood up and walked over to her desk. She produced a single piece of paper that looked instantly familiar.
"Is that the contract?" Emma asked.
"Yes. I had my lawyer draw one up earlier this week."
Emma voice was oddly flat as she asked, "You knew I'd say yes?"
She must be even cheaper than she felt – she had a price stamped all over her.
"I hoped you would say yes," Regina said gently. "Besides, there's no harm in being prepared, is there?"
"I guess not."
"Don't look so disheartened," Regina said. She sounded much more confident now that Emma had agreed to sign over her life. "This is a mutually beneficial agreement. I just want to give you the chance to go through the fine print."
Emma took the contract from her and scanned it. It didn't say anything that sounded particularly suspicious – barely reaching a full page, it covered the basics of Emma's new salary, responsibilities, and the two-week notice period that Regina had already mentioned. There was nothing in there about selling her firstborn.
The only thing that jumped out at her was in paragraph three. "The money will be transferred to my bank account?"
"Yes. I assumed that would be easiest."
The imaginary pile of money that had been sitting in Emma's head all week was suddenly snatched away by the hands of greedy debt collectors, and she blurted out, "Could I get it in cash instead?"
For anyone else, getting access to ten grand in cash on a monthly basis would have been problematic, if not impossible, but Regina just shrugged. "If you prefer. I can have that part amended."
She reached out for the contract and made a mark in the margin. Emma watched her, wetting her lips.
"I'll have the final copy sent over to your office on Monday," Regina said, putting the cap back on her pen. "Along with your first instalment."
Emma nodded. "Great."
Regina sat back, watching her intently. After a moment, she said, "Before you sign this, I feel like I should give you fair warning as to what this is going to be like for you."
"I thought you'd already done that. Parties and dinners and—"
"No, not that," Regina said, still carefully observing Emma's face. "I mean dealing with me. I've been told in the past that I can be quite... difficult."
Emma's lips twisted wryly. "You're preaching to the choir."
"I'm being serious, Emma. If you think that I will always act the way I did at dinner, or at the bar on that first day, you would be wrong."
"Well, no, obviously not, but—"
"I am very demanding," Regina continued like Emma hadn't spoken. "And I am very selfish. If I'm in a bad mood, you will know it. I won't be polite when I ask you to leave me alone, or stop talking so much, or not drink anymore because you're being incoherent. If you wear something I deem inappropriate, I will make you go and change. If you are tired and don't want to come to an important gallery opening, I will have someone drag you there. My world doesn't stop because you're not in the right mood, or because we've had a fight and your feelings are hurt. Do you understand all that?"
Emma blinked rapidly.
"I... I guess," she said, then paused. "To be honest, Regina, you've just described every single guy I've ever dated. You're just being upfront about your attitude problem."
Regina smiled briefly. "I'm not kidding."
"I know you're not. I get it – you're important and you have shit to do. I'm meant to be serving a purpose, not getting in the way."
Emma sounded a little bit too self-deprecating even to her own ears, and Regina sighed.
"You're not just here to serve a purpose – I really do hope we will enjoy each other's company, and I think you will get a lot out of this. You'll make connections and see the world, and maybe you'll even enjoy the work. I certainly do."
Emma knew she wouldn't: she didn't know anything about art, minus the one paltry class she'd taken and failed at college, and she didn't care about it very much either. But the travelling sounded exciting, and she did like meeting new people, even if it was just so she could talk about them later.
The most important thing, though, was that she was going to get to do all of this with Regina at her side. That was all she really cared about.
…that, and the cold, hard cash she'd be getting paid for it.
Swallowing down that thought, Emma said more firmly, "I can handle it. In fact, I'll probably out-grouch you any day of the week."
Regina smirked back at her. "As long as you don't do that in public, I'm happy for you to be as needlessly grumpy as you like."
It was the kind of banter Emma remembered from their dinner date, and it finally helped her relax a bit. Even Regina appeared marginally less tense than normal.
Then their moment was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone. Regina sighed, picking it up from where it was resting on the coffee table.
After scanning her eyes over the message that had just come through, she said, "I'm afraid you need to go."
Emma blinked. "Oh. Okay."
"I'll send over the contract on Monday," Regina said, her eyes now glued to the phone screen. "Unless there's anything else?"
"No… No, I don't think so."
"Excellent. I take it you can make your own way out."
Slowly starting to realise that things with Regina would always shoot from 0 to 100 within mere seconds, Emma got to her feet. She wondered what the etiquette was for saying goodbye to your new-employer-cum-future-pretend-girlfriend, and eventually settled on an awkward wave that Regina wasn't paying attention to. "Bye, then."
"Goodbye, Miss Swan," Regina said, still not looking up. "I'll be in touch about our first event soon."
"Okay. Cool."
Emma was purposefully dragging this out, and deep down she knew that was because she didn't want to leave Regina again so soon. That was ridiculous, of course – she was now as contractually obligated to see her again as one person could ever be, but she still felt uncertain as she walked towards the door.
Regina didn't say anything else to her before she reached the staircase, and Emma walked back down to the gallery feeling slightly disappointed. She forced herself to remember the delicious smiles Regina had thrown her way instead; the way she had called her beautiful yet again. The word came so easily from Regina's mouth, slipping off her tongue like it was so utterly indisputable, and it made Emma feel even warmer under her sticky red jacket.
She peeled off the offending item as she left the gallery. Everything looked exactly the same, even though so much had just been turned upside down, and when she looked down at her phone she was shocked to realise that she'd only been inside for 40 minutes.
She glanced up at the window to see if Regina was looking down at her, but she wasn't. And so she turned away, trying to suppress the niggling worry that she'd just made a horrible mistake, and headed back home.
