Chapter 1

Sylvester Morgan could barely breathe.

His hands trembled as he stood before the man, and his eyes were trained on the ground.

Jackson Palmer.

He was working for Jackson- fucking- Palmer!

Suddenly, all the nondisclosure forms made sense.

The man was a big name at the moment. Over the past five years his music had taken off and his songs played on most radio channels.

“You understand what is expected of you?” Jackson asked, his voice low and deep, sending chills down Sly’s spine.

“Yes, sir,” Sly managed to choke out, his hands trembling so badly that he was forced to scrunch them up into fists. “It was all explained.”

The job was one that seemed insane to him; no, it was insane.

But the pay was amazing.

Twenty thousand for a month of Sly’s time.

He was broke and jobless. He couldn’t afford to turn it down, despite how bizarre it seemed.

“Good,” Jackson said. “Let me show you around and then I will go over the rules with you again, as well as how you will be expected to behave. Understand, you are able to go home at any time; however, leaving before the month is complete will result in non-payment.”

Sly nodded. Jackson’s sectary had already told him.

The home they were in was massive. Bigger than any home that he had ever been in before and it was spotless. Every surface seemed to shine. There was a black and white theme to the house, unbroken as colour ceased to exist.

Jackson showed him the kitchen first. It was a wide, open space that had a breakfast bar that snaked around the kitchen, and a table resides further back, overlooking the double patio doors that led to a backyard.

“Can I get you a drink?” Jackson asked politely. He was wearing a suit; a three-piece that made Sylvester feel incredibly underdressed in his faded jeans and old shirt.

“No thank you,” Sly declined. He was too nervous to drink.

The man nodded, his green eyes- reminding Sly of the darkened leaves of the forest- trailed him, taking him in before he continued the one with the tour, showing him the rest of the rooms on the lower level.

“Can I ask why you agreed to this?” Jackson asked as he led Sly up the long slope of the stairs. He was a few steps ahead and waited for Sly to catch up. “It said in your application that you had no prior experience- or knowledge- of this lifestyle.”

“My friend was the one who told me to get in touch with you about it.” In fact, Ronan had been incredibly insistent, hounding him until he had phoned. “But I dunno... I guess... it pays well.”

Jackson nodded. Sly swore he saw a flash of disappointment flicker across his handsome features, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came.

“As I said, if you find that you can’t handle it, you’re free to leave at any time.”

The room that Jackson showed him next made it all seem real.

Behind the solid oak door that seemed like all the rest, the weirdness began.

It was his bedroom, Jackson told him so.

Yet it wasn’t the kind of bedroom most would assign to an eighteen-year-old boy.

It looked like a newborn baby’s room.

Except everything was bigger.

There was a crib in the far side corner, a large structure that would have easily held Sly’s body, and there was a changing station in the other that would have dwarfed a normal baby.

The walls were painted a gentle blue, soft, fluffy clouds decorating them, giving the room a child-like glow. There was a toy chest beside the wardrobe, and Sly was scared to see what was in there.

He had been told not to bring anything with him; while he was there, his clothes would be provided. Everything would.

He had filled out his clothes size on the application, so he wasn’t worried about them not fitting.

Think of the money, he told himself as he glanced up at Jackson, who had been studying him intently.

“Are you ready to become my baby boy, Sylvester?”

Sly swallowed hard.

For one whole month, he had agreed to become Jackson Palmer’s baby. He still wasn’t 100% sure what that meant, what all the details were, he just knew that it was going to be nothing like he had ever expected.

With his heart plummeting and a cold slither of fear twisting in his gut, Sly nodded. “Yes.”