Page 96 of Work with Me

“I’m proud of you, Jay.”

I swiveled my head so quickly my neck cracked. “What?”

“You heard me. Not only the project in Austin, but this foundation of yours. You really have grown.”

“Thanks.” I wished I had some papers to shuffle or a hard drive to take apart, but Marlee had cleaned my desk while I was in Austin. There was nothing to hide me from the intensity of his laser gaze.

“And you deserve…love. Hers, if that’s what you want.” He flicked invisible lint off his dress pants.

“Really?” We never talked about this shit.

He looked tired. He had wrinkles under his eyes and shadows I’d never noticed before. I’d just opened my mouth to ask about it when the voice of the person I hated most carried into the office.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this was a meeting of company executives, not an episode ofGossip Girl.”Our CEO, Harris Weston, sauntered into my office. Hadn’t the door been closed before?

Fuck, how much had he heard? Enough, if I correctly interpreted the knowing glint in those beady eyes. My feelings for Alicia were private. My best friends, Cooper and Marlee, knew about them, but they weren’t for Weston to collect in his hoard of secrets, for his manicured hands to paw through and use to his own advantage.

I stood so fast the chair spun out behind me and collided with the credenza. “What do you want, Weston?”

He glanced down at his Patek Philippe wristwatch. “I thought we had an appointment, Jones.”

Fuck, we did. Why hadn’t Marlee warned me it was time? Weston had probably called her off to distract her, and without a phone, I couldn’t get her SOS texts.

Cooper stood. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Unless you need me, too?” I had to give him credit. Cooper didn’t share my loathing of Weston, and he usually tried to act as a buffer between us.

“No, thank you, Fallon. I’m checking in with Jones here, now that he’s returned from—” He coughed, and I couldn’t tell whether he’d saidAustinorexile.

With one last, steadying nod, Cooper walked out and shut the door.

Weston ignored my guest chair and, with his typical reptilian smoothness, eased into one of the wing chairs in my seating area. He held out a hand to the neighboring chaise. Fucker was telling me where to sit in my own office.

I stomped over and sat in the wing chair across the coffee table from his. I crossed my arms. “What do you need, Weston? Marlee already submitted my project report.”

“Thank you for that.” He smoothed down his beard, which had gone mostly gray with a few brown threads in an inverse ratio to his hair. “But I came to speak with you about something more…personal.”

Heat rose from my chest up my neck. Had Cooper told him about Alicia? If he was going to try to use her against me—Alicia, the best person I’d ever met—

“I understand you’re about to sink a significant amount of your fortune into a foundation. What a worthy effort.”

I blinked, knocked on my ass. Was that a compliment? “Thank you?”

He nodded, a king granting a boon. “As you know, I support many worthy causes. Once your foundation is ready to receive donations, I’ll happily write you a check. Would ten million be acceptable?”

I couldn’t help it; my eyes bugged. Not even Cooper, not even my mother, had offered that much. I felt like George Bailey inIt’s a Wonderful Life,sitting in the low chair while Mr. Potter offered me twenty thousand a year. I wished I could’ve done what George did and toss it away. I didn’t want Weston’s oily hands in my foundation, but that money would help a lot of kids.

I swallowed. “Yes, thank you.”

“I’m happy to help.” He spread his hands in a wide, generous gesture. Then he leaned forward. “I also understand you’ve met someone. Someone who requires a little more”—he chuckled—“wooing.”

I stiffened. How the fuck did he know that?

“As someone with a little experience in that area”—he chuckled again, an attempt at self-deprecation, since everyone knew he had a couple of ex-wives dripping in diamonds—“I can tell you, wives and girlfriends aren’t inexpensive. Like one of your fine automobiles, they require maintenance to keep them purring.”

Was Alicia like that? Did she want diamonds and mansions? Racing thoroughbreds, like one of Weston’s ex-wives owned? She was from Texas, too, I remembered.

“Between setting up your foundation and bestowing gifts on this deserving young woman, you might feel a bit strapped for cash.”

I pursed my lips. He was right; I’d planned to donate most of my liquid assets to give the foundation a healthy start. I hadn’t even thought about buying Alicia jewelry or a big house or even a fancy car. I’d assumed, once I’d proved myself worthy, she’d just want…me. Was that naïve?

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