“Fine. You take the job with Kelsey and move in with her, and I help you two with some connections.”
She mulls it over, her lips twisted to the side.
“And you know,” I add, clearing my throat, “if you could be pregnant as well, that would be ideal.”
“What?” she says, sitting up completely. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not letting you get me pregnant.”
“Fuck, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Pretend to be pregnant. Pretend. I’m not going to be fucking you or anything like that.”
Her brow knits together. “Why on earth would I pretend to be pregnant?”
“Because I told the guy I’m trying to do business with that you’re pregnant.”
“Why? Why would you say that?”
I sigh and grip the back of my neck. “His fiancée is pregnant. I was trying to form a connection with the guy.”
“By making up the fact that you have a pregnant fiancée? Wow, Huxley, you really are in some deep shit, aren’t you?”
“I am. That’s why I need you. So, name it, Lottie.” I hold my arms out. “Name what you want and it’s yours.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Okay.” I stand from the bed and pace her room. “In a perfect world, what would you have right now?” I face her and hold my finger up. “Working with your sister, right?”
She nods.
“Not living with your mom and Jeff.”
She nods again.
“Showing up this boss of yours, the one that let you go.”
“A lifelong friend who has been toxic from the start. Would love to just shove it up her ass.”
I chuckle. “Okay, that can be arranged. What else?”
“Perfect world?” she asks with hesitation.
“Perfect world.”
Her teeth roll over the corner of her mouth as she says, “Well, I’d be working with my sister, out of my mom’s house, could stick it to Angela, my student loans are paid off, and every time it rains, I have a place where I can lie in the rain without judgment.”
“Done,” I answer.
“What?” she asks skeptically.
“All of it, done. I’ve got you covered. I’ll help with your sister’s business so you can work for her. You’re going to live with your sister, so that covers housing, we’ll make the perfect plan to stick it to Angela, I’ll easily pay off your student loans, and I know the perfect place to privately lie in the rain.”
She shakes her head. “You’re not paying off my student loans.”
“Why not?” I ask her.
“Because I’m not a hooker.”
I scratch the back of my head. “I don’t recall the time where I said I would pay you to fuck me.”
“You didn’t, but it just feels . . . weird. You paying me to be your escort.”
“First of all, you’re not an escort. Let’s throw that term right out the window, got it? Second of all, this isn’t about me, this is about us. This is a deal. An accord. A transaction between two people. We’ll both agree upon a fair bargain, and trade services, that’s it. Nothing more. Trust me, I’d pay a hefty amount of money to convince you to get on board. I’m sure the student loans can’t be that bad. How much do you owe?”
She winces and says, “Thirty thousand dollars.”
The corner of my mouth tilts up. “Chump change, Lottie.”
Her eyes widen. “I have a thirty-thousand-dollar debt and you’re calling that chump change?”
“Trust me when I say I have billions to work with.”
Confused, she asks, “Why are you telling me this? I could extort those billions from you.”
“Possibly, but I don’t think you will. You don’t seem to be that kind of person.”
“I’m not,” she says, deflated. “I wish I were; it would make this that much easier.”
I chuckle. “I’m glad you’re not someone who relies on extortion. Bodes well for me.” I stand there, hands in my pockets. Head down, I just lift my eyes to glance at her. “Say yes.”
She presses her lips together. “How do I know you’ll follow through on your end?”
“I’ll have my lawyers draw up a contract. Simple.”
Still seeming unsure, she stares down at her hands. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me why you don’t want to do it,” I say. In order for her to go through with this, she has to admit to whatever is holding her back.
“Just feels . . . wrong. I know I was the one who crazily sought out a rich husband to solve all my problems, but now that it’s halfway true, it just feels wrong. I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve earned; this feels like a freebie, and it doesn’t settle well with me.”
I can understand that feeling. If it weren’t for my dad, we wouldn’t have the business we have today.
“I understand the pride you have in working for everything you’ve earned in life. I understand that all too well. But do you know how we started our business?”
She shakes her head. “I honestly know nothing about you.”
“Well, it was with an idea and insurance money from my dad’s passing. Without that insurance money, there’s no way we would be where we are today. Yes, hard work, hustle, and well-thought-out decisions made that money grow, but we needed that boost, that assistance. That starting point. Everyone needs both a strong start and a boost from time to time. Don’t look at this as a freebie, Lottie, look at it as a boost.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Her eyes flash to mine. “You might be offering me the deal of a lifetime, but I need you to know something.” She stands from her bed, and even though she’s a foot shorter than me, she still walks up to me and attempts to be intimidating. “I owe you nothing other than what I signed up for, and this little stunt you pulled today—it’s deceiving and it won’t happen again. Blackmailing, holding my truth against me, that’s bullshit, and I don’t like you very much for it.”
“Fair,” I say. “But I refuse to apologize for what I did.” Her gaze focuses on me. “I don’t apologize unless I regret something I did. I don’t regret this. As a businessman, I make the best decisions to help close in on my goal.”
“So that’s what this is—a business transaction?”
“Nothing more than that.”
“Good,” she says and then points to the door. “You can leave now.”
I shake my head. “Nice try, Lottie, but I’m going to need some information from you before I leave, and those things include your phone number, sister’s address, dress size, and shoe size.”
“Why do you need those things?”
I take a step closer and tug on her old rock band T-shirt. “Not that this isn’t sexy on you, but you’re going to need something a little more . . . expensive . . . if you’re going to be attached to me.” I lift her chin up with my index finger. “I’m also going to need your ring size. My fiancée will be properly adorned with a ring.”
She swallows hard. “Fine, but I’m going to need to know your dick size before you leave.”
“Why do you need to know that?” I ask.
“Because,” she says with a smile, “I need to know if I have to act like a happy fiancée, or a truly satisfied fiancée.”
Fuck, the ovaries on this girl. When was the last time I had such an honest, forthright conversation with a woman?
The back of my neck heats up as I say, “Trust me, you’re fucking satisfied.”
She shrugs. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
She walks over to her nightstand and pulls out a pen and a piece of paper and starts writing things down. I move around her messy room and say, “If your sister specializes in organization, how come your room is a disaster?”