I know I'm not exactly model-gorgeous; however, it's one thing for someone to think something about you and not tell you than it is to have someone make you sign a contract promising to change your looks. I nod my head but say nothing, gritting my teeth somewhat and willing myself to stay composed. I still have my dignity; there aren't any rules signing that part of myself over.
"Anything else, Amelia?" Grace's voice is soft, like she's trying to remind me that she's on my side when before she was basically telling me, 'agree to everything, don't embarrass me in front of him.'
"PDA in public?" I ask. He nods his head gently.
"I will initiate what I am comfortable with in public," he says sternly.
"And I'll just have to be fine with it," the words fall out my mouth, and I can't pull them back, like a car sliding off a hill. Mr. Whitlock's face drops slowly into a subtle smirk as he nods his head.
"Exactly, do I need to add a rule about you being a smart-ass?" I think he's flirting with me, but I'm not. This is what our relationship would be like; me following his rules and him reprimanding me as though I'm a child if I don't follow them perfectly. It's unsettling, to say the least, but my mind keeps going back to my bank account. I need the money; maybe it won't be as bad as I think. I shake my head.
"Sorry, sir," I mumble quietly and look back down at my paper. There is silence for a moment before Lory clears her throat.
"Shall we move on?" she asks. I don't know who she's talking to, but I'm assuming it's not me. I'm proven correct as Mr. Whitlock tells her yes, and they both turn the page. I do the same.