11. Half a Million is a Lot of Cat Food
Bailey
Wife. Ridiculous. I laugh. “One kiss and you are proposing?” I tug his arm, trying to pull him back to me, but he leans further away.
“This isn’t about your job, Bay.”
“But—” My teeth wrap around my lower lip. “Isn’t that why the other assistants left? Because they wouldn’t sleep with you?”
“No!” He looks completely appalled. “No, no! I’ve never propositioned anyone at work.” He moves even further away, my body is cold in his absence. “I thought you wanted this. I thought you might—dammit, I wasn’t thinking at all.”
My smile twists in confusion. “The others said—you know what, it doesn’t matter. I misunderstood.” I hop down from the desk and fumble to straighten my skirt, looking anywhere but at him. Fuck. I fucked up again. I kissed my boss. Yes, he propositioned me. Or did I proposition him? Fuck. Am I the one doing workplace harassment? “Am I still fired?”
“Fired?”
“You asked me here to fire me, didn’t you?”
“No! I only called you in here to—it doesn’t matter.” His eyes search my face for a long moment. “I really like you, Ms. Thorn. I’m sorry. Your employment was never in jeopardy. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything.”
My heart melts just a little, and for some reason, I want to reassure him.
“I didn’t exactly feel pressured. I practically threw myself at you.” I try not to wince at the memory.
“I understand if you want to leave,” he continues, like I haven’t spoken at all.
“I don’t want to leave,” I insist. I need this job. He’s not getting rid of me this easily. I can suffer awkward job situations for decent pay.
“Then I’ll find a new position for you. I understand if you don’t want to work for me anymore. The others didn’t want to work for a monster either.”
“It was just a kiss. You’re hardly a monster,” I mutter under my breath.
“I’m a Bigfoot, Ms. Thorn, you’ve noticed.” He gestures to his body. “The other assistants left because they didn’t want to work for a large hairy monster. I understand if you feel the same.”
“Oh—oh.” It’s like the illusion shatters in my mind. “They meant a monster, literally! Like you are literally a monster. Like, literally, literally. That’s why they are scared of you?” I laugh. He’s practically a giant kitten. Nothing about him frightens me, except maybe the potential proposal. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I’m not… I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t think of you as a monster.”
“That has become apparent.” His brown eyes scan my body, and my stomach flips.
“Can we just forget this happened? I’ll go back to my desk. You won’t need to find a new assistant, and we’ll never speak of this again.”
“No.” He steps into the path between me and the office door.
“No?” I ask in a squeaky breath.
“Bay, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first moment I saw you. I don’t want to forget this happened. I want to be with you.”
“You want to fuck me, you mean?” I laugh.
“I want you by my side every day, every moment.”
“But you aren’t serious, though.” I shift on my feet, and suddenly it feels like the carpet is very interesting. My eyes search the berber for any kind of pattern.
“I like you, Ms. Thorn. A lot. I enjoy your company. You are clever, and funny, and kind, and sexy.”
His feet appear in my line of sight. I look up to check his expression and am surprised by how close he’s standing. He rewards me with a wide grin. He’s so attractive when he smiles, and it’s hard not to think about the way his strong hands traveled over my body.
Shit. I need to pull myself together. These things never work out. I’m a desperate idiot for even considering he might be telling the truth.
“Let’s go out. On a date.” It’s a command, not a question.
“I can’t date my boss.”
“Can’t date? But, you are willing to fuck me on my desk?” He cocks his head to one side.
“It’s different.” I scowl. “You know it’s different. There are complications—expectations?—”
“I’m crazy about you.”
I bark out a laugh. “You barely know me.”
“I want to get to know you.”
I can’t help that my heart gives a little flutter at that. “I need this job. I know I’m not good at it, but I need the money. If we date, and you realize you don’t want me around anymore—” My nose scrunches. “I have rent and student loans and?—”
“What do you wish you were doing instead? As a career?” He cuts me off.
“Cat cafe.” I say it without even thinking. “If I work here, for you, for a couple more years, I can maybe afford to open my own cafe.”
“A cat cafe?”
“With coffee, and little pastries, and couches where you can sit and pet the cats, and a shelf with books by local authors, and craft parties that are cat themed, and I could make my own hours, and be my own boss. I volunteer for this non-profit that is always looking for forever homes for its pets, and I love helping the kittens find good homes—the right homes with people who will take good care of them—” I stop speaking, seeing the wide grin on his face. “You think it’s silly.”
“I think you are passionate, and it makes you even more beautiful.”
His words do make me feel more beautiful. I close my arms over my chest and step away from him. I want to touch him again, which probably means I shouldn’t. I have terrible instincts about these things.
“Let me be your business partner. Give you the capital to start.”
“A business partner who wants to get into my pants?”
“It won’t affect anything,” he insists.
“It will affect everything.” I bite back.
“I’ll pay you then,” he counters.
“What? To sleep with you?”
“To break up with me,” he declares.
I laugh. “What does that even mean?”
“We date. When you decide it’s over. I’ll pay you.”
I laugh again.
“How much are your student loans?” he asks.
“One hundred and twenty-seven thousand.” I know the amount by heart. It’s a constant weight on my shoulder, a number that hovers over me every day of my life. It’s just another among the numerous dumb things I’ve done. I signed dumb loans. I delayed my graduation. I went to a pricey private school, expecting the prestige to help me land a job. (It hasn’t.) I got myself into this mess with my stupid decisions and poor instincts.
“Five hundred thousand.” Sacha interrupts my mental self-flagellation as he moves around his desk and slips into his office chair. He waits for me to respond, and when I only gape slack-jawed at him, he repeats, “I’ll pay you five hundred thousand.”
I laugh louder this time. Sacha’s face remains serious.
“When you want to end it, I’ll put the money in your account. Enough for your student loans, to start your cafe, and cushion yourself the first couple years, while you are in the red.”
“Five hundred grand? Just like that?”
“I’m rich. It’s not a big deal.” He leans his broad forearms on his desk.
I shake my head. “You aren’t serious.”
“I am serious. I want you to have what you want, Ms. Thorn. And I can give it to you.”
“And you want to fuck me.”
“I want you to be mine. I want you to want to be mine.” He steeples his fingers in front of his face, his voice lowering to a growl. “I don’t want you working a job you hate, or feeling pressured to sleep with your boss to keep it. No matter how hot you think he is.”
I bite my lip. “All I have to do is go out with you? Just once?”
“As many times as you decide, and when you don’t want to spend time with me anymore, I’ll transfer the money to you.”
“What happens if you get tired of me first?” I ask.
“I won’t,” he says. “I’ll never get tired of you.”
“But if you do,” I reiterate. Everyone gets tired of me eventually.
“You get the money,” he offers. “When we break up, you get the money, No matter what.”
There’s a challenge in the silence that follows.
“Give me one date at least.” He turns on his computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard. I lean around the desk to see his screen, just to satisfy my curiosity. He’s filling out a contract with the details. “One date, and then you’ll see I’m serious.”
“One date? I’m just going to be the most expensive escort in the business?”
He shakes his head. “After one date, you are going to want another. I’m betting on it. I’m backing my bet with a half million dollars.”
“Half a million.” I repeat the number out loud, really acknowledging it for the first time. Half a million dollars is a lot of cat food. That’s life-changing money, that could make all my dreams come true. “No strings? No loan? I just walk away with the cash?”
“It’s all yours.” He nods seriously. His brown eyes find mine and for a brief moment, I let myself indulge in the fantasy of him and me together. For longer than one date; getting to keep his big hands, his broad body, his soft lips.
“I pick our date. And I pay for it!” I blurt out. “No flying me to Paris, renting out the restaurant in the Eiffel Tower, and claiming you already spent four hundred and ninety-nine thousand dollars.”
“Whatever you want to do, I’ll do it,” he agrees.
“And when it goes badly or gets awkward, I walk away with the money? Like the world”s easiest game show?”
“You get to walk away whenever you want. Keep your job, keep the money, keep my heart,” he says, and my own chest squeezes.
“You’re wasting your money,” I say, steeling my nerves. “I’m not too proud to take it from you. I’m going to hold you to this.”
“I expect you to.”
I hesitate; watching him type. I have no idea if this would work. I want to do it, which means I probably shouldn’t.
“Give me a copy of the contract.” I gesture vaguely at his computer. “I’m going to show my roommate. She’s a law student, she’ll know if this is real.” I lean over his shoulder to examine his computer screen. He smells alarmingly good, somehow like the sun is trapped in his fur, like a day in the park, sunshine, grass, and the best picnic you’ve ever had. The scent make me aware of how close we are. I jerk out of his personal space.
“I’ll honor the deal,” he promises, his eyes bright. “Have your lawyer friend look it over, and if she approves, we’ll go out.”
My chest feels tight. This is either the best idea or the worst idea I’ve ever agreed to. “Fine. Yes. It’s a deal. It’s a date.”