Chapter 1: The Interview
The scent of expensive candles did nothing to mask the tension in the air. It was the kind of smell that tried too hard, something cloying and vanilla, layered over a sharper, cleaner scent of glass cleaner and ambition. Diana Mallory sat perfectly still in a black leather armchair that seemed to swallow less successful people. Her blonde hair was a sleek helmet, her blue eyes chips of ice assessing the girl across from her.
Jade Parker let her gaze wander from the frost-tinted windows to the stark white rug, then back to Diana. She didn’t fidget. She enjoyed the silence, letting it stretch until it became its own kind of test.
“Your resume is, predictably, thin,” Diana began, her voice cool and measured. She placed the single sheet of paper on the glass coffee table between them. “College sophomore. Part-time barista. No references pertaining to this kind of work.”
“That’s because there isn’t a ‘this kind of work’ section on most job boards,” Jade said, a faint smirk touching her lips. She leaned back, the soft grey of her oversized sweater contrasting with the severe leather. “Your ad was specific. I’m specific. Seems like a match.”
Diana’s eyes narrowed, but something flickered in them—approval. “The position is for my son, Charlie. He is twenty years old. Chronologically.” She steepled her fingers. “Behaviorally, he is stuck in a deeply adolescent pattern of irresponsibility. Laziness. A profound lack of respect for authority or consequence.”
“Okay,” Jade said, drawing the word out.
“Traditional methods have failed. Groundings, allowance deductions, lectures.” Diana waved a dismissive hand. “He simply waits them out. He needs something more… immediate. More physically and emotionally resonant.”
Jade said nothing. She kept her dark eyes fixed on Diana’s, waiting.
“The role is a ‘behavioral sitter,’” Diana continued, the term sounding clinical in her mouth. “You will be present in the home during specified hours. You will enforce a set of rules. You will administer corrective discipline when those rules are broken.”
“Corrective discipline.”
“Yes.” Diana didn’t blink. “He responds to humiliation. To the stripping away of adult pretenses. For persistent disobedience, or for outright defiance, a spanking is the most effective tool. It regresses him. It reminds him of his place.”
A slow, genuine smile spread across Jade’s face. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was a smile of recognition, of a lock clicking open. “You want me to spank your twenty-year-old son.”
“I do. As needed. The methodology is up to you, within reason. The goal is compliance, not hospitalization.” Diana’s tone was that of a CEO outlining a marketing strategy. “There will also be non-corporal humiliations. Public ones, sometimes. He is to call you ‘Miss Jade.’ He will ask permission for certain privileges. The dynamic must be clear and consistently reinforced.”
Jade felt a thrill, a sharp, bright line of excitement run up her spine. She’d answered the ad on a darkly curious whim, but now… now it was fascinating. The pristine cruelty of it. The sheer, audacious control. “And you’d be okay with that? With a stranger doing that to him?”
“I am not ‘okay’ with any of it,” Diana snapped, a crack in her perfect veneer. For a second, raw, ferocious love blazed in her eyes, twisted into something awful. “He is my son. I am doing this for him. Because he cannot function. Because the world will eat him alive. This… structure, this consequence, is the last gift I can give him.” The emotion vanished, sealed back under ice. “Your age is an asset. A peer, but one wielding absolute authority. It exacerbates the effect.”
Jade nodded, absorbing it all. The city lights beyond the window began to wink on, orange against the deepening blue. “What’s he like? Charlie.”
Diana’s lips thinned. “Charming. When he wants to be. Intelligent, but he applies it solely to avoiding responsibility. He is handsome, in a soft, unfinished way. He will try to manipulate you. He will try to be your friend. You cannot be his friend.”
“I don’t want to be his friend,” Jade said, and meant it.
The silence returned, thicker now. Diana studied her. The chipped black polish on Jade’s nails. The defiant cut of her messy hair. The calm, amused gleam in her eyes. She was looking for disgust, for titillation, for uncertainty. She found none. She found a mirror.
“The pay is forty dollars an hour. Cash. You will start tomorrow evening at seven. He will be home from his community college class by six-thirty. You will stay until ten, or until his bedtime routine is complete.” Diana stood, a smooth, elegant motion. She walked to a sleek sideboard and poured herself a measure of bourbon from a crystal decanter. She didn’t offer Jade any. “Do you have any questions?”
Jade stood too, shorter, curvier, a blot of chaotic color in the monochrome room. “Just one. Where do you keep the hairbrush?”
Diana paused, the glass halfway to her lips. Then, slowly, she smiled. It was the first real expression Jade had seen on her face, and it was chilling. “The master bathroom. Top drawer on the left. It’s ebony. He dislikes the cold weight of it.”
“Good to know,” Jade said, her voice quiet.
Diana set her drink down and extended a hand. Her grip was firm, dry, and forceful. “Welcome to the household, Jade. I expect regular reports. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I don’t plan to, Diana,” Jade said, releasing the hand. She picked up her threadbare backpack from the floor. “See you tomorrow.”
She let herself out, the heavy apartment door clicking shut behind her with a sound of finality. The hallway carpet was plush and silent. She walked toward the elevator, the thrill still buzzing under her skin like a live wire.
It was going to be fun. Breaking this Charlie. Playing this twisted game in this beautiful, cold apartment. She pushed the elevator button.
And she thought, not for the first time, that Diana needed punishing, too. For the love that curdled into this. For the clean, manicured hands that set this all in motion. That would come later. For now, there was a boy to meet, and a hierarchy to establish.
The elevator arrived with a soft chime. Jade stepped inside, her reflection a smudge of dark hair and intent eyes in the polished brass doors. She couldn’t wait for seven o’clock.