Page 4 of The Billionaire's Proposal

Legal Department

1200 Shore Dr

Miami, FL

I slice it open with my fillet knife while mumbling to myself, “Who the hell is Triple W Communications?”

Dear Big O Excursions,

This letter serves to inform you to cease and desist the slanderous video displayed on your website that presents the CEO of Triple W Communications in a negative light.

If the activity continues, we will immediately seek a temporary restraining order against you and any accomplices in the District Court of Miami-Dade County. We will seek monetary damages in court. Hopefully, we will not have to resort to this option. We have to protect our assets and will do so vigorously.

Failure to comply in writing within ten days will automatically trigger a lawsuit.

Isaac Cooperman, Esq.

Isaac Cooperman, Esq.

Triple W Communications

Oh, hell no.

“Orlando!” I shout. He’s in the back office, preparing for tomorrow. A bachelor party booked our small yacht—like the smallest money can buy or in my case borrow.

He steps into my office. “Yes, ma’am.”

I love his manners, despite having grown up without a parent. He’s twenty and has been like a little brother to me for the past ten years. My grandfather always said giving was the catalyst for fulfillment, and I was devoid of anything but sadness until I saw a sign posted at the coffee shop. Be the Big Brother or Big Sister you always wanted to be. I signed up, submitted to a drug test and background check. During the interview, I asked if they had any kids who dreamed of sailing on the ocean, and that’s when they paired me with Orlando.

“Who brought this letter?” I hold up the black envelope.

“It was delivered by courier while you were still at the marina.”

Without exchanging another word, I type in the company name on my computer. A banner displaying a contest pops up immediately.

Spend a Day with Winslow Worthington and Have a Chance at One Million Dollars.

I can’t help my snort.

Just like a rich man to go pimping himself out, in a pathetic attempt to circumvent all the bad press surrounding him right now.

For the next two days, I can’t get this man, this company, or the cease-and-desist letter out of my mind. I’ve hired a lawyer to go over my options, which has cost me three grand for the retainer fee.

I open the website again, staring at the screen with details on how to enter.

Write a letter stating something you believe was done to you unfairly or something that affected you in your pursuit of happiness or business. Mr. Worthington will choose five women’s stories to delve into deeper. If you’re chosen, Mr. Worthington will work side by side with you for a day. At the end of the day, Mr. Worthington may offer you one million dollars.

An idea pops into my head.

Wearing out the mildewed, faded carpet in my office, I chew on a pencil. The damn thing looks like a beaver got hold of it. I stare out the window at the marina from my steel building, and it hits me. I’m writing in.

Do I need a million dollars? Yes.

Do I want to spend an entire day with an arrogant asshole? No.

Okay, yes. It’s a firm maybe.

It’s possible to hate someone but still want to feel the weight of their body on top of you.

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