Saturday, June 28, 2014

Chapter eight is Now Available To Read 


CHAPTER EIGHT
It was dark when Morgan woke up the next time. She hadn’t meant to fall
asleep, but she’d been crying and must have dozed off. Her whole body hurt,
including her heart. She moved her leg gingerly and cried out at the pain
shooting from the muscle in her thigh.
“Damon said you could have something for pain if you wanted it.”
Nickolas Grant. What did she expect? He’d said he’d be back. His voice was
coming from behind her, so she needed to turn over, but didn’t really want to.
She’d never been one to hide from something, but face it straight on. She moved
slowly and stopped at her back; the pain was too much.
“I don’t want anything. I can only go this far right now, and I don’t know
how long it will take me to get the rest of the way over, so if you wanna begin...”
“All right. There’s a tray of food in front of you. Eat it while I talk.” The light
flared on and she shied away from it as best she could without moving too
much. He was suddenly standing in front of her opening covers off of food.
Morgan wasn’t going to eat anything, but didn’t say anything. He’d just
argue with her; she knew it, so she watched. When he had everything arranged,
he slid the half table over in front of her, sat on the bed and picked up the fork.
She turned her head from him.
“No. Say what you have to say then leave, Dr. Grant. I’m sure you have
other things to do. I know I do.” She heard him growl and nearly turned toward
him, but didn’t.
“You’re not stupid. I’ve seen your transcript from college. So I won’t even go
into the reasons you need to keep your strength up by eating, how you’ll heal
much faster if your body isn’t fighting starvation too.” She heard the authority in
his voice, the one that said, you’ll listen or else. “This is the way this is going to
work. I’m going to feed you this dinner and you’re going to eat it or I call the
nurse and we tie you down and put a tube down your throat and feed you that
way. Up to you.”
Morgan slowly turned back to him and glared. He was smiling with a sneer
and still holding the fork. There was a small bite of something white on the end
of it.
Opening her mouth, she took the bite. She decided she wasn’t speaking to
him. He could feed her, tell her off, because she was sure he was pissed at her
treatment of his mother, and then he could leave.
“Damon will release you tomorrow morning. Byron will be here to pick you
up and take you to an apartment that is in the Grant building that I own. He
lived there up until a few months ago when he purchased his own home and had
a studio built. The furniture is still there until the decorator he has doing his
house decides what she wants to incorporate into the new house. I haven’t the
slightest clue what happens to the rest after he’s finished.
“You’ll also see a psychiatrist once a week starting next week. If she says you
need more or less sessions, then you can work from there. If she says you need
help and could benefit from others, then you’ll get it. She will report to me every
week on your progress and whether or not you show. She will not share what
you talk about. I could care less anyway.”
Morgan glared at him. What right did he have treating her like this? She
wanted to scream at him. Just when she was opening her mouth to blast him, he
jammed a forkful of food into her. Damned man.
“Monday morning, you’ll start working for me as my receptionist/secretary.
I’ll pay you six fifty a week and you’ll work Monday thru Friday and an
occasional Saturday morning. Have no doubt that you’ll work very hard for that,
too. The rent for the apartment will be a part of your salary. As of Thursday, you
have insurance, dental, medical, and vision. Here.” He tossed a large envelope in
her lap. “In that are your contract, medical information, and benefits. There’s also
a credit card with the company name on it. You’ll use it for clothing and business
needs. It’s a generous amount, but not over the top, so use it wisely. Any
questions?” Morgan watched him stand up and move the tray away. She had
eaten everything on the plates. She wouldn’t admit it to him, but she did feel a
little better. But she wasn’t going to work for him.
“No, and hell no. I’m not working for you, Dr. Grant. I don’t need, nor do I
want your charity, or whatever you feel this constitutes as. I’m quite capable of
finding my…”
“Maybe you didn’t hear the part about where I give a shit what you want
because I don’t, Ms. Becky. This is non-negotiable. According to the terms of
your release, you find gainful employment within thirty days or they find it for
you. For some reason, my mother likes you, and is concerned for your welfare.
Well, I don’t like you. You’ll work for me starting Monday or else.” He moved
toward her door to leave. “One more thing, Ms. Becky. If you ever talk to my
mom that way again, I will hurt you.”
Morgan pulled out the contract and read it over when her tray was taken
away. It wasn’t really anything special. She’d work for him for one year, with the
option to renew after six months. Also included in her benefits was a week
vacation after the six months. She may or may not have to do some light
traveling, but it would be completely paid for by the Grant Corporation. There
was also a copy of the paperwork she had signed when she’d been released from
prison. In addition to her finding gainful employment, she needed to have a
permanent residence. Apparently, he’d read it over as well.
For the first time in her life, she had a job making more money in one week
than she had in her entire life. She had an apartment that was furnished with
someone else’s things in a building owned by the man she worked for and that
hated her. A clothing allowance for things she didn’t have a clue how to
purchase much less how to use the credit card she’d been given to buy them, and
she had never been more depressed in her life.
When Dr. Grant the physician came in at eight the next morning she was
dressed and had her meager belongings packed. The contract was signed and in
the required envelope to give to Byron when he came to get her. By two o’clock,
she was standing alone in what she was now thinking of as another prison, one
that just had nicer walls.


Tune in next week for Chapter Nine




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