Page 24 of Don't Call Me Daddy
She pops her lips and rocks back on her feet like she’s deliberating.
“Look, I’m not asking for charity. I’m happy to compensate you for your time. You seemed eager for the opportunity to do that Siegfried and Roy gig … no one wants to do something like that unless they need money.”
She twists her lips to the side and looks up as she thinks. “So … like a sugar daddy/sugar baby arrangement?”
I jerk my head back and blink several times. “What? No. Nothing like that.”
“I’m just saying, that’s what it sounds like. Paying someone younger to hang out with you or pretend to be engaged with you or whatever.”
She rolls her eyes and picks at her yellow fingernail polish, complete with smiley faces drawn on top. It’s such a small detail, but it only reinforces all the assumptions I’ve already made about her. This girl is all sunshine and adventure while I’m more like storm clouds and canceled plans.
I shake my head. “That’s not what this is. Anyway, what do you think?”
She narrows her eyes. “What’s in it for me?”
“Name your price.”
“Do you expect me to have sex with you?”
“Would you?” The question rolls off my lips before I can stop it, and I quickly correct myself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to saythat. Of course not. I just need you to show up to family dinners and sometimes a work event with me. Stuff like that.”
“So, no sex. Do you want me to do anything weird while you watch?”
“What? No. Will you get your head out of the gutter? What do you think I am?”
“It would behoove me to know exactly what I’m agreeing to.”
“Behoove you?”
“What? I’m just practicing for mingling with rich people.”
“Nobody says behoove. Is that a yes?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“Done. Anything else?”
She blinks several times like she can’t believe it. “Seriously? I was just fucking with you. That’s too much?—”
I hold up a hand to stop her. “Ivy, I’m asking you to help me lie to my family … and I’m rich. I have no intentions of taking advantage of you. You’re doing me the favor, remember?” I pull out my phone and type out a quick email to my assistant. “Why don’t we make it an even hundred just to be safe?”
Her mouth drops, and she lets out a little gasp, then snaps it shut, nodding her head vigorously.
I can’t help but smile at how cute she looks.
I don’t know her story or what she’s running from—because she’s no doubt running from something—but it’s hard to ignore the warm, tingling sensation that spreads through my chest at the thought of helping her.
Down boy.
This is not anything like that.
“So, now what? What do we do next?”
I blow out a sigh. “It would probably be more believable if you stayed at my place. You’ll have your own room, of course. Is that something you’re comfortable with?”
A slow, mischievous smile spreads across her face, and I already know by the way my heart skips a beat that I’m going to regret this.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a sugar baby.”
