Page 52 of Savage Suit
Then, too, even if we overcame that, it still meant we’d been lovers, and that would automatically lock her out of the position. On the other hand, I was formulating a plan to hire her and then ask her out.
If I combined the positions as I’d initially intended, then I’d offer her a short-term contract and let her go when it ended. I’d work in bonuses and whatever the fuck else I needed to, so she wouldn’t ever have to work again. She was too fucking stubborn for her own good, so she’d never just take money because I wanted her to have it.
“You mention job security,” I said. “What about assuring my company you won’t suddenly retire?”
Her laughter came easily. “I don’t play the lottery and I doubt I have a long-lost wealthy relative to inherit from, so you don’t have to worry about such an occurrence,” she finished, still chuckling.
If I demanded the amount she’d require to never work again, I doubted she’d be so amused.
“My goal is to have a seven-figure bank account in the next five or ten years.”
“Quite a wide range. One million to nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents.”
She scowled. “Seriously?”
“Since you didn’t consider—”
“Not that,” she snapped. “I meant, did you seriously just say all those numbers to make a point?”
“What didn’t you understand when I told you I’ll do anything to get what I want?”
“Including besting me in a conversation.”
According to her. Not that I intended to correct her.
“I was thinking five million,” she grumbled, giving me the stink eye. “Is that better?”
“Much,” I said agreeably. “Thank you.” I gazed at the money on the table, wondering how to convince her to take the cash. A bet, maybe? Without a reason to extend the time of the interview—my time with her—drew near. Besides, I had a lot to think about.
If Ryan washerand I kept the information from her, she’d never forgive me if she ever discovered the truth. I needed to discover, once and for all, if they were the same person. I’d have to call my cousin. Or D’Artagnan, according to the girl.
“I would like to offer you a six-month contract,” I told her.
She nodded. “I understand.”
“It is a trial period where we’d both test what’s best for all concerned. Once the contract ends and all has gone well, I’ll offer you a two-year contract.”
“I didn’t know signing a contract would be required. I thought it was at-will employment.”
“Generally, it is. But I’m wiping the slate clean with Amage and starting over. I’ve done the same with the position.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “Are you sure there aren’t ulterior motives?”
Oh, indeed there were. “None.”
“When is my first day?”
“When can you start?”
“As soon as possible,” she answered.
I got to my feet and walked to my desk, where I opened the locked drawer and took out a manila envelope with several documents and a USB drive where volumes of information about Amage were stored. I walked to her and held out the envelope. “I’ll see you Monday at 9:00 a.m. Unless the press conference is scheduled before then.”
Relief and joy lit her face, and she stood, accepting the envelope. “Thank you so much. You won’t be disappointed.” She gathered her handbag and stuffed the envelope inside, then zipped it closed. Considering the money a moment, she sighed, looked at me and held out her hand.
I appreciated her firm grip. “Congratulations, Ms. Hagen.”
“Thank you.” She dropped her hand. “Truly. This means a lot to me.” She cleared her throat. “There’s no tactful way to bring this up.”
