Page 21 of Bigfoot Boss
“I am serious. I want you to have what you want, Ms. Thorn. And I can give it to you.”
“And you want to fuck me.”
“I want you to be mine. I want youto wantto be mine.” He steeples his fingers in front of his face, his voice lowering to a growl. “I don’t want you working a job you hate, or feeling pressured to sleep with your boss to keep it. No matter how hot you think he is.”
I bite my lip. “All I have to do is go out with you? Just once?”
“As many times as you decide, and when you don’t want to spend time with me anymore, I’ll transfer the money to you.”
“What happens if you get tired of me first?” I ask.
“I won’t,” he says. “I’ll never get tired of you.”
“But if you do,” I reiterate. Everyone gets tired of me eventually.
“You get the money,” he offers. “When we break up, you get the money, No matter what.”
There’s a challenge in the silence that follows.
“Give me one date at least.” He turns on his computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard. I lean around the desk to see his screen, just to satisfy my curiosity. He’s filling out a contract with the details. “One date, and then you’ll see I’m serious.”
“One date? I’m just going to be the most expensive escort in the business?”
He shakes his head. “After one date, you are going to want another. I’m betting on it. I’m backing my bet with a half million dollars.”
“Half a million.” I repeat the number out loud, really acknowledging it for the first time. Half a million dollars is a lot of cat food. That’s life-changing money, that could make all my dreams come true. “No strings? No loan? I just walk away with the cash?”
“It’s all yours.” He nods seriously. His brown eyes find mine and for a brief moment, I let myself indulge in the fantasy of him and me together. For longer than one date; getting to keep his big hands, his broad body, his soft lips.
“I pick our date. And I pay for it!” I blurt out. “No flying me to Paris, renting out the restaurant in the Eiffel Tower, and claiming you already spent four hundred and ninety-nine thousand dollars.”
“Whatever you want to do, I’ll do it,” he agrees.
“And when it goes badly or gets awkward, I walk away with the money? Like the world's easiest game show?”
“You get to walk away whenever you want. Keep your job, keep the money, keep my heart,” he says, and my own chest squeezes.
“You’re wasting your money,” I say, steeling my nerves. “I’m not too proud to take it from you. I’m going to hold you to this.”
“I expect you to.”
I hesitate; watching him type. I have no idea if this would work. I want to do it, which means I probably shouldn’t.
“Give me a copy of the contract.” I gesture vaguely at his computer. “I’m going to show my roommate. She’s a law student, she’ll know if this is real.” I lean over his shoulder to examine his computer screen. He smells alarmingly good, somehow like the sun is trapped in his fur, like a day in the park, sunshine, grass, and the best picnic you’ve ever had. The scent make me aware of how close we are. I jerk out of his personal space.
“I’ll honor the deal,” he promises, his eyes bright. “Have your lawyer friend look it over, and if she approves, we’ll go out.”
My chest feels tight. This is either the best idea or the worst idea I’ve ever agreed to. “Fine. Yes. It’s a deal. It’s a date.”
12
IT ISN’T A DATE, IT’S A BRIBE
Bailey
I rearrange the chopsticks beside my plate for the fifth time. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’ve been to this restaurant a dozen times. I chose it because I know that I will have a good dinner, even if the night is awkward and terrible.
Not that it matters. This isn’t a date, it’s a bribe. I’m going to spend one evening with him, collect my money, and never see him again.
