Betrayal (26 page)

“Columbia Law?”

Patrick nodded.

“What are you two talking about?” I looked from one to the other. “You know I was joking, right?”

“Raised like me,” Patrick said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Well-bred, manners, can handle yourself well in most situations,” Cy said.

I shook my head. “Most, but right now I’m feeling uncomfortable.”

Cy handed me my hair tie and turned to Patrick. “If you trust her, give her the elevator pitch. If she’s interested, call Andrew and get her an appointment for the morning. I’ll arrange for an afternoon interview.”

My eyes widened. “Pat, what the hell are you two talking about?”

Patrick threw the towel he’d been holding on the counter and reached for my hand. “I’d pour you more wine, but this isn’t something you should consider when your faculties aren’t intact.”

Tugging my hand, he pulled me toward the couch in the living room. It faced toward the large floor-to-ceiling windows. As we sat, I saw beyond the darkness of the park to the glimmering Upper West Side.

“Little cousin, I can trust you, can’t I? Like when we were kids, pinky-swear?”

“Y-Yes.”

His smile grew. It was like we were kids and he was about to tell me some secret, maybe about a Christmas present. “Listen to me,” he instructed. “When I’m all done you can ask questions or tell me I’m crazy, but promise you’ll listen to everything first.”

“I’ll listen.”

“I’m going to tell you about a company I work for.”

“The design firm?”

“No, although I do work there too. I’m going to tell you about the other company I work for. It’s very exclusive and privately run. People only learn about it by word of mouth. If you’re ever questioned by anyone outside of the network, you’ve never heard of it.”

“Pat, this—”

“No questions,” he reminded me.

“Sorry.”

“Alex, let me tell you about Infidelity.”

I STARED AT
Patrick in disbelief. Words weren’t forming, not in a way where I could put them with others and string them into anything resembling a sentence. An elevator pitch, as in what Cy told Pat to give me, was by definition a succinct, persuasive summary, a sales tactic to be used when time was of the essence.

I didn’t want short. I needed more.

Standing, I wrapped my arms around myself and silently walked to the windows. The spectacular view no longer registered. In the short time I’d been with Pat and Cy everything had seemed real. It was more than that—it felt real. I saw it. My life had been too much turmoil, too much emotion. Ever since Del Mar I’d been off kilter. I fought back the tears as I turned back to Patrick, still sitting silently on the couch, watching me with large eyes.

Is that the male version of doe in the headlights?
Because, in the words of Nox, after what Pat had just told me, the innocent ship has sailed.

Sucking my lip between my teeth I worked to turn the chaos in my mind into coherent thoughts. “Are
…
are you saying this is all a sham?” My body trembled and I looked around for a vent or fan, something to cause my sudden chill. “This is no better than Savannah—smoke and mirrors. No, it’s worse.” My volume rose. “Worse! Oh God, Patrick. How could you?”

He wasn’t angry. Instead, I sensed something between hurt and defiance.

“Little cousin, don’t you dare judge me.”

“B-But you sold…”

“What? My body, my soul, my heart? I didn’t sell any of those. I simply agreed to rent them. Isn’t that what dating is? Isn’t that what happens when you meet someone and the two of you are mutually attracted to one another?” He stood and came closer. “Have you never…? Has no man ever had your heart?”

I squeezed my midsection tighter and nodded as tears now freely flowed down my cheeks. “Yes, but it wasn’t a business agreement.”

“It wasn’t? Did he buy you dinner?”

“Dinner, not an apartment and spending money.”

Patrick’s voice lowered. “Is that all your heart’s worth, a nice dinner?”

“No. No! That’s not what I mean.”

Pat turned me toward the window and hugged me from behind. His embrace was warm and comforting—nothing sexual—as he spoke near my shoulder. “Look out there. There are people in the park right now. There are people in Savannah. Those people would take what you have—your body, heart, and soul—for a lot less.” He kissed my cheek and turned me toward him. “You asked if what Cy and I have is real. The answer is yes. You asked me on the phone if I was happy. The answer is yes. I’d take it even further and say that I love him. So what? We found one another through a service. It’s like an online dating service, with perks.”

“I don’t think I understand. Cy said he found you. Did you have any say?”

“I filled out a profile and set my hard limits.”

“Your
hard limits
?” I asked, the phrase prickling my skin.

“Yes. As the name insinuates, not all of the clients are single. I wasn’t willing to be a third wheel or the reason a marriage or relationship failed. That was one of my hard limits.”

“One?”

Patrick pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. “I restricted my profile to gay men. If you don’t think I could get it up for some hot, wealthy woman, well, you’re wrong, but if I did that, it would compromise who I am. Hard limits are important. Once those are set, Infidelity does its magic. The staff knows their clients. A profile isn’t available to the entire world. First, only an exclusive number of people even know that this part of Infidelity exists.”

We were sitting back where we started. “So Infidelity pairs
clients
with…”

“Employees,” Patrick answered. “I work for Infidelity. I get a monthly check from them. When Cy joined, he agreed to provide housing and living expenses. Theoretically, my check from Infidelity covers my incidentals. Since I also work for the design firm, I have that check too, and…” He smiled with a shrug. “…Cy is very generous. My checks are mostly invested. Infidelity works on yearly agreements. During that anniversary month, Infidelity provides extensive interviews to determine if the agreement is renewed. There is even a buy-out clause if two people decide they want to stay together, without the company.”

“What if you two hadn’t gotten along? Could you quit?”

“At the end of one year.”

I shook my head. “One year.”

“The people at Infidelity can explain it better than I, but the year thing is there for a reason. The client is putting a lot of resources into this relationship. They don’t want to do that to have it end in a week.”

I took a deep breath.
A week is too short
.

“There’s something psychologically reassuring about a year,” Patrick explained. “Every day doesn’t have to be wine and roses. I told you that what I have with Cy is real. We fight. We make up. Make-up sex is awesome!”

I couldn’t believe I was smiling at him and really listening.

“Pat, what? How? How did you even learn about this?”

He shrugged. “I can’t give specifics. Like for example, if you decide to look into this, you can’t tell anyone it was me and Cy, other than Karen, the intake representative at Infidelity. I can tell you I learned about it while I was at Pratt. I didn’t do it, not at first. Then, while I was working on my master’s, I had offers for different internships and decided to take the one here. As I was cooking macaroni and cheese on my tiny stovetop, I made the decision to call the person I’d met while attending Pratt.

“It wasn’t an easy decision. During the intake interview, Infidelity was extremely transparent. Although they put a lot of money and resources into this, not all matches work as well as ours. The thing that sold me was the exclusivity. Infidelity pairs its employees
once.
They don’t serve as a pimp. If at the end of an agreement there’s a mutual decision to end the relationship, the employee receives a severance package and he or she is done. Clients are given two chances.

“The network is small,” he went on. “Confidentiality is paramount. To the world we are a couple. Cy has an important job. I’m his partner. He’s met Mom and Dad. I’ve met his family. No one,” he emphasized, “knows how we actually met.”

I considered all he said. “You said some of the clients are married.”

“Yes.”

“Do they provide the same
…
housing and living expenses?”

“Yes.”

I scrunched my nose. “Why?

“Why would an employee want to be paired with a married client?” Patrick asked, clarifying my one-word question.

“Yes? Why?”

“Commitments. The job still pays the same, but since this client is splitting his or her time with the employee and the spouse, well, the employee’s services aren’t required as frequently. Like, say the employee has another commitment
…
law school, perhaps.”

I shook my head. “I-I can’t believe I’m even considering this, but married men? That’s my hard limit. What if Cy would’ve said no to the design firm?”

“It was in my profile. He knew I had a commitment to the firm. He came into this relationship understanding my priorities. Though I didn’t know him, I agreed to enter being willing to support his.”

“When is your one-year
…
anniversary
…
contract renegotiation?”

Patrick grinned. “It was last June. We’re in our second year.”

“You don’t regret it?”

“Little cousin, do I look like I regret it?”

I tried to take it all in, but the more I thought about it, the more questions I had. As in most of my times of indecision, since Del Mar, my thoughts went briefly to Nox. “Pat, what if you met someone else?”

“I’m not looking.”

“No, of course you’re not looking, but what if?”

“He’d have to wait until next June. Monogamy is in the agreement. It was also on my list of hard limits.”

A ridiculous thought occurred to me. “So if I agreed to this, I couldn’t commit to Bryce until my contract was up.”

“They call them
agreements
, not contracts.” He shrugged. “It’s a legal thing, and yes, but you couldn’t tell Bryce, Aunt Adelaide, or Uncle Alton about the agreement. No one can know.”

Patrick reached for my hand. “Little cousin, I know this is a lot to consider. Like I said, it took me almost two years before I decided to do it.

“Cy said he could get you an interview tomorrow. That doesn’t mean you’ll be accepted. Infidelity has a rigorous intake process. They wouldn’t be as successful as they are and as exclusive, if everyone was granted employment.” He tilted his head. “And they wouldn’t be able to pay as well as they do.”

“Can you tell me how much?” I asked, curious despite the fact that I was disgusted with myself that I was giving this company any consideration.

“No, but I can tell you that they’ll pay you for the interview, for your time.”

“If I go to the interview tomorrow, I’ll be paid? No sex
…
just an interview?”

“Sex is down the line in this process,” Patrick said. “They’ll explain it better. Infidelity doesn’t sell sex. They foster companionships. And yes.”

“How much?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

IT’S JUST AN
interview.

I’d said it over and over to myself as well as to Patrick. He’d taken a second day off work to help me with this, and I didn’t know if I was thankful that I had his hand to hold or if I should hate him forever for even suggesting this. More than once during the night I woke with near panic-attack-level doubts.

I was a Montague and I was entertaining the idea of selling myself,
my companionship
, as Patrick continued to remind me. But then, I’d think about my mother and Alton. Was what they wanted me to do any less degrading? They wanted me to forfeit my dreams and sell myself to Bryce, and for what? For the Montague name. In their deal, I lost everything. I lost my dreams and the future I’d planned. I lost my ability to choose my own husband. Their scenario was a lifelong sentence. In their plan, I wasn’t only securing my own future unhappiness, but more than likely that of my children, future Montagues and Carmichaels.

With Infidelity, if—and that was a big
if
—I was accepted by the company and I agreed, I could continue law school. If I did this and became an Infidelity employee, I would agree to one year. After that time I was free. There was no lifelong sentence and no children.