Page 61 of Ruthless Beasts

“Yes, ma’am. Do we have a deal?” Adam leaned forward, the leather of his chair squeaking.

“The resort,” she echoed, clearly in shock.

“Is it a deal?” he asked more forcefully.

“Yes… no.”

“No?” He laughed and raised a brow.

“I would like to negotiate.” Her leg jiggled up and down, giving away her nerves.

“Negotiate?” Ace laughed. “I can promise you won’t get a better deal than this. I handle most hirings, and from a business standpoint, he could hire someone nearly two-thirds cheaper, offer facility access without benefits, and fill the spot easily.”

Hannah’s head whipped to the side, glaring at Ace. “He could, and if this was just about a job, I’m positive he would have. But you have my best friend, and that’s influential on his offer. I’ll work three weekends a month instead of two, if visitations are negotiated.”

Adam smiled, looking like a shark about to attack. He placed an elbow on his desk. “Done.”

Hannah put her hand up for a high five, and I raised mine to meet hers. “Yesss.”

“Oh, and Hannah?”

She glanced back to my husband. “Yes?”

“Visitations would have happened either way. She needs someone other than us to keep her entertained. You negotiated your way out of a weekend.”

Realization hit her hard, and she cursed. “Fuck.”

I rested my head on her shoulder. “I’m worth it, aren’t I?”

“Your husband is?—“

“Your new boss,” he reminded her.

“Generous.” Though I suspected the word prior was way less kind.

“Max, Drew. Take her to her apartment and see what arrangements will need to be made for her relocation,” Adam ordered, and Hannah stiffened.

“Excuse me?”

“Your relocation,” Adam repeated the word like it was obvious.

“Relocating wasn’t in the agreement.”

“You want to hang out with Belle? I want to keep her safe. It’s that simple. Either you move into the cottage at the back of our property, or you work around our schedules to visit. Note that we are busy men. We don’t have time for many games.”

“It’s just that …” She fiddled with the armrest of the chair, drawing circles with her finger. “My apartment is rent controlled, you know. And to move?—“

“One bedroom, full kitchen, washer and dryer on site,” Adam listed off.

“Why wasn’t I offered one of those?” I mumbled.

“They were full,” Mercer provided.

“They aren’t now,” I pouted.

“Oh, they are, but someone is about to be relocated.” Mercer looked over his shoulder at his two friends, and I knew just who he was thinking.

“On site?” She breathed in awe.

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