Page 56 of The Influencer

And then he cracks my favorite half grin, just that one corner of his lips curling up. “I’ve never let anyone touch my spreadsheets before,” he says, making it sound like the filthiest thing I could possibly be doing. It is intimate, though. All his finances—the ways he makes his money—all here at my fingertips. He must trust me. I may not be his “type”, but I have to be doing something right.

The majority of his income is from sponsors, companies paying him to advertise their clothes and products on social media. And he makes a lot doing that. Second ranked is OnlyFans, and coming in a close third—he has a fucking Patreon. How’d I miss that? What does he do on there? I don’t want to think about it.

What he makes as a dancer pales in comparison to his other income streams, which is interesting because that’s how he introduces himself. At least—that’s how he introduced himself to me.

I refrain from commenting on it, colorize some columns to make them easier to differentiate, and alphabetize his payors. Very little math is involved. Meanwhile, the room is suffocating. Like a fireplace is burning on my right, but it’s just Jade, with his eyes on me and his hand tucked primly between his toned thighs.

“You keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna start to think you find me attractive,” I say.

“I’ll stop in a minute.”

I keep my eyes on the screen, fiddling with the formatting. “What are you looking at?”

“Your freckles.”

“Don’t. I hate my freckles.”

“Stop it.”

“I do. They’re ridiculous. I’ve done everything I can to get rid of them short of laser treatment.”

“Don’t you dare. I’m obs—I think they look good on you.”

I cut my gaze his way. “What were you about to say?”

“What?” He blinks rapidly. “Nothing.”

“Started with obs, ends with…?”

He shrugs, feigning ignorance.

“Essed. Obs—essed. That’s what you were gonna say wasn’t it?”

“Of course not.”

“Jade, I’ll laser them off, I swear.”

He narrows his pale green eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“I was going to say I was observing the way they flatter your features.”

“Oh, I see.” I turn back to the laptop. “Well, thank you. I’ll try to pretend I don’t hate them, then.”

“Asher?”

“Mmhmm?”

“I have coffee breath.”

“I know,” I say. “I can smell it.”

“I want you to kiss me anyway.”

“That’ll be ten bucks a minute.”

He smiles and then immediately douses it. “Deal.”

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