My Psycho Stepson and me

I nodded at him,

"Yeah. The cat that got kidnapped."

There was a pause before he took his phone out, making a call. After asking the same question to whoever was on the other side, I could only hear a fawning tone answering, but what was said I didn't understand.

After ending the call, his attention was back on me.

"Your cat will be brought here tomorrow." He answered me, and I heaved a sigh of relief. I hope the kidnappers are feeding it properly, or hell will break loose.

"Have you read through the contract?" He asked, tapping down on the paper that had been placed before him.

"Not really." I said honestly and looked around for a memory I could take with me. While the beautiful high-end pen lay on his side of the table, a normal one was in the leather cup on the side. I could reach easily; this is it.

His handsome face showed a bit of impatience as he began to recount the contract details in a domineering manner,

"You will be married to me for one year; sleep in my bed, eat the food I give you, and wear the things I buy." He looked into my eyes as if the bullshit he spouted was some sort of final edict.

Seeing him not continue, I laughed at him as well,

"No way, buddy." Pfft, what the hell? Which sane person would say yes to the real deal of an overbearing president if they hadn't had a screw loose?

Mr. Lancaster leaned away and interlocked his fingers, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, while he continued,

"No sexual interaction is needed; after a year, you are free and get a million dollars paid."

Well. That got me a bit curious, the mocking smile turning sincere.

"I have to sleep in the same bed as you, but no sex, no kissing, no naked sleeping?"

I mean, he looks really handsome, but these things are too messy for me. I hate interpersonal relationships. I want my cat, and I want my peace. Maybe a few horror movies and crying high school students for the cherry on top.

Mr. Lancaster looked at me with these light eyes, and honestly, his gaze was penetrating. However, having nothing to lose beside my baby got me calm again really fast.

He nodded, agreeing to my question.

Now that I think about it, the legal action could wait for a year. And this guy doesn't seem to play around, so it would be better to leave that on an amiable note. Furthermore, he persumably will not go back on his word regarding giving me money.

"I am a teacher and want to continue with my job while being here. Furthermore, this house is too big for my cat to run around, so if you want to sleep with me in the same room, my cat has to be there too."

Mr. Lancaster froze, massaged his temples for a bit, and then finally agreed with a hum.

"You can start tomorrow at the nearest High school."

So, I was being a responsible adult, I stood up, and propped myself on the desk. I leaned in his direction and narrowed my eyes,

"Get your maid under control; if someone here poisons my cat to get back at me, I will bury everyone with it."

I have seen the movies and know about the intrigues of the rich and their staff. I am no assassin, but how to get one to bleed, even I know.

My hand sneaked for the pen as my blond hair fell forward, accurately overshadowing the leather cup.

The man before me showed no signs of being intimidated, and I know why that is the case. I have a smaller statue, albeit a bit taller than the average woman. With a soft and lovely little face, blue eyes and light blonde hair, new students often thought I was one of them, not believing me to be their teacher. Or maybe he was just steadfast in his CEO persona.

"As my wife wishes, your cat's safety is guaranteed." He didn't seem to find the topic strange, and I was happy with the outcome of this conversation.

"Perfect." Sliding the pen into my sleeve, I leaned back. Now, I had my apple bulge and my new pen.

"And please get my stuff here as well." They are my treasures.

After standing, I reached for his hand, and he gave it to me without an issue,

"Happy cooperation." I said to him, and he repeated it, his eyes never leaving mine. Somehow this guy was as strange as his son, but oh well, give me red flags, and I'll make a bouquet out of them.

Nearly leaving the office, I turned around to ask where his - our bedroom room was, but he was already behind me, having moved without a word.

"I will bring you." He opened the door, and the maid looked surprised as we stood before her all of a sudden; she had most probably eavesdropped.

Leaning back, I looked up at Mr. Lancaster's face and saw a hint of annoyance in it.

"We will talk later." He said firmly, making the maid flinch and answer politely. Then, we left for the first floor again, passing by the room of psycho number one. We took a turn; this house was colossal. Having nothing to discuss, I just asked him,

"What's in it for you besides getting a pseudo-wife and losing mone-" His hand was so fast over my mouth that I could barely react.

He came closer to me, and I could smell his minty breath,

"No absurd small talk. Don't ever mention the contract." His voice made me shiver, but not in a good way.

I nodded honestly, and he put his hand away, leading me to my new room.

What the hell? But he is the boss; as long as he doesn't go overboard, I am okay. Wiping my mouth with my sleeve, I can only hope that he was one to wash his hands after going to the toilet.

One would think of that action as mandatory, right? No. I had to take the student-toilet at my old job because a gym teacher wasn't seen as a real teacher, and they mobbed me out of the teacher-toilet. Anyway, many students don't wash their hands after using the toilet. Yet another reason for letting them run until they vomit.