My Contractual Love

Neema POV.

I groaned as my phone buzzed by the bedside. The screen lit up and I expected to hear the ping of a message, instead, Release Me started playing as my 7:00 a.m. alarm went off.

I stretched out my hand and pressed the volume button on the phone. Five minutes later, the alarm went off again and I let out an expletive, now my sleep was ruined. I shouldn’t have snoozed the damn alarm.

I reluctantly pushed the sheet and comforter away and got out of bed standing beside the bedside table and stretched like a cat letting out a loud yawn. I rubbed my sleepy eyes and then headed to the washroom.

The water was very cold and I let it run for a minute or two before remembering that heating had been cut off a few days ago. That meant I had to either heat my washing water in the Russian heater or embrace the frost queen’s fingers.

I heard my phone buzz in the bedroom and realized that I didn’t have the time or luxury to boil water for my bath. If I had to make it on time to the studio it means that a cold shower it is.

The moment the cold water hit my back I let out a muffled shriek and cussed internally wondering why I did not wake up earlier. I took the shortest shower in history and zoomed out of the bathroom like I was on fire.

My teeth didn’t stop chattering as I applied the last of my lotion on my legs and hands before wearing my midnight blue dress and white blazer. I finished off with my nude flat shoes and admired myself in the mirror.

Hopefully today I would get this modeling gig that had great benefits. With the money I could use it to pay our heating bills and have it reconnected as well as get some medicine for mum.

I grabbed my phone and my handbag that had my small portfolio and headed for the door.

“Good luck sis,” a voice said behind me.

I looked back to see Naomi my younger sister on the sofa a book in her hand. I let out a smile and opened my arms.

She came and hugged me. I gave her a forehead kiss which was not that difficult as she was shorter than me by almost five inches.

She squeezed me tighter and then let go.

“Look after mum, I will try to be back as soon as I can,” I told her. She nodded and then I opened the door.

The eight O’clock morning air hit my face and it felt both cool and refreshing. I walked to the train station and boarded the first train to the city.

My interview was for ten a.m. but as I didn’t have money for fuel I had to resort to taking the train. Otherwise I would have slept for a little longer.

The car I was in had three other passengers and we all minded our business. I pulled out a book from my bag and started reading. The last stop was the city and I wasn’t worried.

When the train pulled up at the last station, I got off and joined the mass of people alighting from different trains. I went up the escalator to the street level and started my short walk to the offices where I was to be interviewed.

I stepped through the revolving glass doors and went straight for the front desk where a blonde young lady was busy on the phone.

She saw me and smiled pointing at the seats. I took a seat and waited for her to finish.

“Sorry about that, good morning to you.” I got up and approached her.

“Good morning,” I replied shaking her outstretched hand. “I am here for the modelling interview though I am about an hour early.”

“That is okay, you are actually the third person to arrive, there is a lady being interviewed as we speak, as soon as she is done you may enter. What was your name?”

“Neema Michaels,” I answered secretly happy that I would hopefully be done by noon and head back home. She looked at a list to her right and ticked my name which was closer to the bottom.

“I hope you have your portfolio with you unless this is your first time trying out to be a model.”

I nodded but didn’t tell her this was my first rodeo. I went back to sit and a few minutes later two other ladies entered. I heard they also were here for the interview and they sat across from me.

They discussed in low tones and one of them looked at me for a short while then looked away. Ten minutes later, a tall and petite lady dressed splendidly walked past me and out the door.

The receptionist pointed at me and told me to go in.

“Third door on your left,” she told me.

I was apprehensive as I took my first step down the hallway and finally stopped at the light brown wooden door. I took in a deep breath and then knocked twice.

“Come in,” a rough voice said. I turned the handle and pushed open the door my heart beating a little fast.

“Have a seat,” a much kinder voice said.

In the room were two men, my eyes landed on the first man. He was a tall figure even though he was sitting down. His broad shoulders gave an imposing figure.

His hair was thick and unruly, peppered with grey, swept back from a forehead. He had a tan on his face and his eyes looked hard and uninviting. I assumed he was the one with the rough voice.

Even his appearance was that of an outdoor lumberjack, from his blue faded jeans to the shirt that had seen its share of days.

The other man was of average height, with a slender build. He had a youthful glow, and I felt more drawn to him. His hair was neatly combed, soft to the touch, and fell in gentle waves.

His eyes looked kind and inviting, and I could see a sparkling mischievous glint in them. I felt at ease and when our eyes met I smiled.

“You have never modeled, have you?” the darker man said in a matter-of-fact voice. I felt all my hopes dashed; I hadn’t even opened my mouth and he had already passed judgment.

Neema POV.

What on earth was wrong with me?

In a few seconds, my voice ran down my throat and squeezed itself into my stomach. My mind went blank and my breath grew hotter. It felt like his eyes were piercing into my skin, shredding me naked.

“Have you?” The darker man’s voice drew me back to reality. His stern expression sat comfortably on his tan face.

“Uhm...I...I haven’t.” I stuttered.

“You haven’t? And how do you hope to get this job?” His voice went again, more terse than it was.

My eyes narrowed to the kinder-looking man, who pulsed his lips sideward in a stiff smile. A kind of smile that said, “I’m sorry I can’t save you.”

“Tell me about yourself.” The tan-faced one asked.

What the hell was my name again? Damn me! Now it felt like I had forgotten who I was. I had done a quick practice at home, but telling someone about myself, and trying to impress them, had to be the hardest thing to do.

“Okay...I’m Neema Richardson. A nineteen-year-old fashion model and photographer. I have been active in this field for three years. I’m excited to explore the possibilities of gaining acceptance to work with this regal body of companies. Thank you!” I ended my introduction with a smile.

“Acceptance?” The tan-faced repeated and let out a dry chuckle and for a second, I knew I could die of embarrassment. Did he just laugh at my introduction or was that an imaginary perception?

“Where do you live?” He went further, not minding the look on my face.

“On Fifty-Sixth Street.” I answered, a little confused.

“So, how do you plan on getting here on time considering your distance.”

“Well...early to bed is early to rise I guess.” My lips spread in a nervous smile. Were these the kind of questions to be asked at an interview?

He nodded his head and jotted something down with his light pen on his iPad.

“Hand me your portfolio.” He asked.

My legs wobbled forward, as I stretched my arms out handing my portfolio over to him. I moved backward and stood in front of the two men. The kinder-looking man gestured for me to take a seat, smiling. How I wished he was the one to interview me! I was so sick of the weird questions “Mr. Tan-face” was throwing at me. So sick!

Oh yeah! I had nicknamed him already since I didn’t know his name. I saw his brows furrowed like the I had found a flaw in my portfolio. Although, I didn’t have so much experience, but back in high, I had worked as a freelance fashion model for a few department stores around New York.

I had to start working to meet the needs of my sister, Naomi’s school payments and mum’s medical treatment. My pear-shaped curves did the magic. They were my kind of good luck charm, I guess.

Though I never loved the idea of modeling, I had to do it. It always felt like I was selling my body for money, similar to what saw the girls do in dark alleys with their boyfriends—or flings. I hated it because it was the total opposite of my personality.

But I had no time to decide which way the boat of my life would roll because life snatched the paddles from my hands before I could make a sound. It took my happiness and took my mum’s too. Life had always been greedy to me. So, I’m trying to snatch that paddle and take charge of my boat.

I pinched the side of my palm nervously, waiting for Mr. Tan-face’s remark and further questions.

“Okay...Miss. Neema...” He finally spoke, “How did you get into modeling?” He asked.

“I got my first contract from a stranger, actually. I met her on my way to school, sometime in grade twelve. And she was impressed by my composure after a few shots. So, yeah!”

“Okay? So you’re more of a fashion model, are you?”

“Yes, sir.” I responded.

The kind-looking, who had been on this laptop for quite a while, looked up at me in thought, then nudged at his colleague’s wrist and whispered something into his ears, then straightened up to maintain his composed smile.

“ Miss Neema, Can you give us a minute?” Mr. Tan face asked.

“Oh... that’s fine. I could just wait outside, I mean. Uhmm...sure.” I smiled nervously and walked towards the door and pulled the knob to myself and stepped out, shutting it slightly just so I could eavesdrop on their conversation.

My mind started twirling in triangular-shaped circles. Did I say something wrong? Was I too loud or was my voice too low? Did my morning meal betray the flatness of my stomach?

I couldn’t help but overthink everything. My thoughts raced back to my mum lying in the sick bay at home. It raced back to the image of her tears wetting the pillow last night. It raced back to the pain and blame she felt because she couldn’t even help her condition.

Her words reminded me I needed this job even if it meant working as a model instead of studying my dream course in college like most of my friends. Her words reminded me of the day Dad left us. It reminded me of the things I needed to live for, even if that living meant pain.

I stared at my nude flat shoes wondering if they were what a model would wear. At least, they weren’t so crappy. I shook my feet violently as I leaned my back on the wall close to the brown door. Five minutes had passed since I gave them a minute. What on earth was taking so long?

I tried eavesdropping on their conversation through the small gap between the door frame and the door, but still couldn’t hear a word. Their voices were low, more like whispers. Just as I lowered my head closely toward the door, warm, light fingers rested on my shoulders.

In shock over getting caught, I swiftly jerked myself to meet the face that owned those light fingers. My eyes met his. A dark shade of brown. His jet-black hair shone in the overhead light’s glow. His thick lashes hooded his eyes softly, low. His brows were a perfect arch. I drifted a little, stumbling backward before he caught me by the arm and steadied my balance.

Now he was a little closer, still and speechless. I shouldn’t have done this next one. My eyes darted down to his lips, and my heart race sped up. They were some kind of forbidden beauty to stare at. His lips were a shade of light pink, lush soft. Oh my! What was I seeing? Was he real or was he a fraction of my imagination?

My eyes danced down to his jawline and lingered. They clenched in masculine elegance, a perfect V. How could someone be this perfect? It’s crazy how all this happened in less than thirty seconds. Thirty seconds that felt like forever. Thirty seconds that I wanted to re-live a thousand times more.

I really didn’t know what hit me, but I’m certain if I wasn’t in a good standing position I would have fallen straight to the ground.

“You were snickering up on...” He raised his brows, gesturing toward the door.

“Uh...oh. No! I wasn’t!” I exclaimed.