Chapter 2 - The Contract of Shadows
The ice in Graham Holloway’s voice could have frozen the Pacific Northwest solid.
The two guards flanking him—built like brick walls in custom Italian suits—shifted their weight, instinctively blocking any exit I might have considered running toward. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, but years of working high-stress interpreting assignments kicked in. You don’t show panic to alpha personalities; they feed on it.
I smoothed the front of my budget-rack cocktail dress and met his razor-sharp gray eyes directly. "I’m Claire Bennett, Mr. Holloway. I'm a certified ASL interpreter hired for tonight's event. Nobody taught me to speak to her. I saw someone who was being excluded, and I offered basic human courtesy."
A heavy silence settled over our small circle, though I could feel two hundred wealthy onlookers straining their ears across the ballroom.
Graham didn't blink. He looked down at his daughter. Her hand was still clamped onto my wrist like a vice.
Let go, Mia, he signed.
His movements were stiff, awkward, and heavily accented—the sign language of someone who had learned fifty basic concepts out of a manual and never bothered to master the grammar. It was functional, cold, and entirely devoid of emotion.
Mia’s fingers twitched, but she didn't release me. Instead, she signed rapidly, keeping her body shielded behind mine. She stays. She actually talks to me. Not like your bodyguards. Not like those fake politicians.
Graham’s jaw clenched. The muscle tick near his cheekbone betrayed a volatile temper tightly held in check. He turned his gaze back to me, scanning my face, my cheap jewelry, the slight tremor in my left hand that I couldn't quite hide.
"An interpreter," Graham said, his deep voice carrying a low, gravelly vibration. "You work for an agency?"
"Freelance," I corrected, keeping my voice steady. "Independent contractor."
"Good." Graham reached inside his tuxedo jacket. The guards shifted slightly, and for a terrifying second, I thought he was pulling a weapon. Instead, he pulled out a sleek silver card case and withdrew a crisp, heavyweight business card embossed with heavy gold lettering. He held it out between two fingers. "My primary residence in Mercer Island. Eight o'clock tomorrow morning."
I hesitated, looking at the card, then back to his imposing frame. "Mr. Holloway, I'm already booked for—"
"Cancel it," he interrupted smoothly, leaving zero room for negotiation. "I will pay five times your daily standard rate. You will be my daughter's personal interpreter and companion for the next six months."
My pulse spiked. Five times my rate? That would pay off my back rent, save my dying Honda Civic, and leave enough left over to put food on my table for a year. But then I felt Mia’s grip tighten on my wrist again.
Don’t trust him. Her warning echoed in my head.
"Why me?" I asked, refusing to reach for the card immediately. "You have unlimited resources. You could hire the premier agencies in New York or Los Angeles."
"Because most people look at my daughter and see an asset, a vulnerability, or a tragic political talking point," Graham said, his eyes darkening. "You looked at her and saw a human being. And more importantly, she responded to you. In my world, Miss Bennett, genuine connection is the rarest commodity in existence."
He dropped the card into my clutch bag without waiting for my consent.
"Eight AM," he repeated. "Don't be late. I don't tolerate unpunctuality, and I certainly don't tolerate refusal."
He tapped Mia on the shoulder twice—a blunt, quick motion—and motioned for his security detail to move out. Mia released my wrist reluctantly. Before she walked away into her father's iron-clad shadow, her hands moved discreetly behind her dress, out of Graham’s line of sight.
Be careful, she signed frantically. He keeps secrets in the basement. Watch the men in grey suits.
May you like
As the entourage swept out of the ballroom, leaving a trail of whispered gossip behind them, I stood alone under the glittering chandelier. My wrist still burned from Mia's tight grip.
I opened my bag and looked at the silver card. I was standing on the precipice of a gold mine, but every instinct told me I had just signed a contract with the devil himself.
