Page 6 of Filthy Rich Bosses

My jaw drops. "One week? That's not even legal!"

He shrugs, avoiding my eyes. "It's all I can offer. The building's being sold. They’re tearing it down and putting in big fancy condos."

I lean against the wall, suddenly dizzy. "Mr. Peterson, please. I can't find a new place in a week. I don't have the money for a deposit, let alone— that’s not realistic. It’s not legal!"

"I'm sorry, but it's out of my hands," he interrupts, already turning to leave.

I watch him go, my heart pounding. Can this day get any worse? I mean, seriously, what have I done to deserve all this? And where the hell am I going to live?

Inside my apartment, I collapse onto the couch, Lulu resting her head on my lap. "What are we going to do, girl?" I murmur, scratching behind her ears.

I could file a lawsuit, prevent the eviction, but that requires money. I barely have enough to feed the two of us. I certainly don’t have enough to hire a lawyer.

As I empty my pockets onto the table, something catches my eye. The man's business card. I stare at it, my mind racing. It's crazy, right? But...

I google him. He’s rich. Like Billionaire-with-a-capital-B rich. He’s not just some random trolling for girls down at the dog park.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm dialing the number.

"Grayson Harrington," his deep voice answers.

I take a deep breath. "Mr. Harrington, it's Tessa—uh, the dog trainer. From the park? I've reconsidered your offer, but I have some conditions."

"I'm listening," he says, a hint of eagerness in his tone.

"I'll need to stay on-premises," I start, my voice stronger than I feel. "Lulu comes with me. And I want to be paid weekly, not a lump sum."

There's a pause, and I hold my breath. "Is that all?" he finally asks.

I blink, surprised. "Um, yes. For now."

"Agreed," Grayson says without hesitation. "As long as you can start tomorrow."

My jaw drops. "Tomorrow? I...wait, really?"

"Is that a problem?" There's a hint of amusement in his voice.

I shake my head, then realize he can't see me. "No, no problem. I just...didn't expect you to agree so easily."

"I'm a businessman, Tessa. I recognize value when I see it." He pauses, then adds, "Now, about your compensation..."

When he names the figure, I nearly choke. "That's...per month, right?"

"Per week," he corrects, and I swear I can hear a smile in his voice.

I grip the phone tighter, my mind reeling. That's more than I make in two months at the vet’s office. Well…usedto make. "Mr. Harrington, that's incredibly generous, but—"

"It's what your expertise is worth," he interrupts. "You’ll have one month. If you can’t show impressive progress within that time, my dog is lost to me. That is not an option, Tessa. Do we have a deal?"

I glance around my tiny apartment, thinking of the eviction notice. I no longer have a paying job. I can tell this dude is going to be demanding and I’m not sure I have the patience to dealwith the nonsense. But he seems to care about his dog. And I can get behind that.

This is insane, but what choice do I have? "Deal," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Excellent. I'll have my assistant prepare the contract. Can you be at my home by nine a.m.?"

I nod, then catch myself again. "Yes, I'll be there. With my things and Lulu."

"Perfect. I look forward to it, Tessa. I’ll text you the details."

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