Page 44 of Wicked Proposal
The dismissive way he says it makes my blood boil. Like nurses are just a disposable category—people you don’t reallyneed. People who, when it comes down to it, can be replaced in a heartbeat.
It’s the way every hospital administrator in history has felt about us. The way every hotshot doctor treats us.
I want to tell him to shove his contract up his ass, but I can’t.
Because the truth is, it’s a lot of fucking money.
More than I make in six months, he says? Fuck that—it’s more than I’d make inten years.
I bite my tongue, but I doubt there’s a point in secrecy. It’s not like my ratty scrubs and the bags under the eyes aren’t giving Mr. Bad Boy Billionaire the full picture anyway.
“You’ll be my plus one at events.” He fixes his cufflinks, not even looking at me as he speaks. “You’ll accompany me wherever I choose, whenever I choose. You’ll wear what I say, do as I say, and behave like a true Lozhkin fiancée would.”
It irritates me to no end—the way he says it.
Like I’ve already accepted.
Like it’s unthinkable I wouldn’t.
Like he can just waltz into my home andbuy me.
“In exchange for that,” he goes on, oblivious to the dark glare on my face, “I’ll take care of all your debts. I’ll take care of yourneeds. I’ll make sure you never have to set foot in a shithole like this again.”
He knows about my debts.It’s like a bucket of ice water straight to the face.
Until now, I’d been downplaying how dangerous Yulian Lozhkin is, how resourceful. How capable of getting whatever it is he wants.
But now, I can’t ignore it anymore.
Yulian’s gaze flicks back to me. Calm, unbothered—like he’s already won.
In a way, he has.
There’s no world where I say no, is there? No universe. No version of reality. This is one million dollars we’re talking about. It’s life-changing money. It’s?—
“I’ll even throw in an investment fund for little Eli.”
At that, I see red.
“Keep my son’s name out of your fucking mouth,” I snarl.
Then I slam the contract into his chest.
Yulian’s eyes widen. Just a little, but enough to betray his surprise. If I didn’t know better, I’d even call it shock. “You’re refusing.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I plant my fists on my hips. “What? You thought you’d just show up here and—andbuyme?”
“You need the money,” he says again, like it explains everything. “Clearly, you do.”
“And clearly, you’re not the great negotiator you thought you were.” Forgoing all thoughts of self-preservation, I get all up in his space again. I may be half his size, but I’m fairly certain I’m carrying twice the rage he’s capable of right now. “You come here, you insult my profession, you insult my home?—”
“I did not?—”
“Yes, you did!” I snap. “This ‘shithole’ that you despise so much? It’shometo me, Yulian. To me and my son. And you do not get to come here and play sugar daddy with us.”
Yulian’s face is a mask of barely-concealed fury. I watch his throat work, his jaw set tight.
“If I have offended you,” he growls, “then you have my apologies.”
