Page 49 of Unexpected Hero

A small gasp gets stuck in my throat, making it hard to reply.

“Anyway, so the phrasing I used wasn’t intentional, but it is fitting given the topic of my proposition.”

My core tightens. Why is that fitting? Is he a billionaire? Does he want to make me his weekend sexy… um… what is it called? I think it was something like sub. But sub of what? Like a hoagie? A sexual substitute? Wait. No. That can’t be right. Why are words so hard?

Fuck you, ADHD.

Oh! Got it. Submissive. That’s what it is.

Nailed it.

As I was wondering before my train of thought careened off the tracks… does he want me to be his sexual submissive?

Not sure I’d be all that opposed after the multiple naughty fantasies I’ve had since meeting him.

Attempting to play it cool, I joke, “Oh boy. Should I be afraid?”

“Not at all. I think it’s a good thing. But I’m often wrong about people.”

“Okay. I’m seated and ready to hear your proposition. Hit me.”

“I have a potential employment offer for you.”

I jump to my feet, excitement pulsing through me. “What? Really?”

“Yeah. But it’s a bit unusual.”

My excitement wanes a tad. “How so?”

“Well, it’s not something everyone is comfortable with.”

“You’re killing me here. Just spill it already.”

“Can I meet you tonight to explain? It’s probably better to do this in person.”

“Yes, I’d love to see you. But as long as it’s legal, pays real money, and doesn’t involve selling an organ, I’m likely going to say yes.”

“I hope so. But curb your excitement. I mean it when I say it’s not for everyone. I don’t know where you fall on the spectrum of openness regarding this topic.”

“What’s the topic?”

This time, his powerful sigh is accompanied by a sexy rumbly groan. “What do you know about BDSM?”

My phone plummets to the ground again. I’m frozen. A statue of disbelief.

Doth my ears deceive me?

Where for art thou, oxygen? Have I been sucked into the vacuum of space? And why am I quoting Shakespeare?

Did he say BDSM? As in sexy, kinky stuff?

Oh my freaking hell. This is like Fifty Shades. He wants to pay me to be his submissive. He’s Christian Grey, and I’m Anastasia, V-card and all. It’s perfect since that’s my middle name. This must be fate.

My phone rings from between my socked feet, saving me from almost havin’ a come-apart at the seams moment.

James is calling me back. He must have hung up when I didn’t answer, thinking the line was dead. Or that I was dead.

I might be. It’s entirely possible his words shocked the soul right out of my body.

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