Page 11 of Ghost
I nod toward him. “Well, that vest is a dead giveaway. And there’s also the fact that I know Addison is married to the Soulless Kings president, and she said it was a brother who needed help.”
Parker glances down at his vest, and when he locks his gaze with mine again, he’s smirking. “Cut.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a cut, not a vest.”
“Oh, well… okay.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t comment on it earlier.”
I shrug. “Wasn’t what we needed to talk about.”
“True.” I fold my hands on top of the table. “So, is that something you can do? Can you give me one day off a week?”
“I think I can manage that, unless club business comes up.”
“Parker, this isn’t a negotiation,” I say, forcing a business-like tone. “Either you agree, or I walk.”
“Call me Ghost,” he says, pointing to the patch on his vest—no, cut. “And everything is a negotiation, Em.”
I shake my head. “No, it?—”
“I can give you at least one day a week, but I need to know that if something comes up, you’ll be flexible about the day. And when I can, I’ll give you a full two days. I don’t expect you to work yourself to death.”
“Okay. I can live with that.”
“Next one,” he prompts.
“Next one what?”
The corner of his mouth tips up. “Condition. Your text suggested there was more than one.”
“Oh, right. I’m guessing that, other than the Alzheimer’s, your mom is healthy.”
“She is,” he confirms.
“Then I’ll likely be living with her for a while. The compensation needs to match what I make through the agency since I won’t be able to take on more patients. They’ll probably have to replace me, depending on the length of this job, so I need to know that you’ll provide me with a good reference once it’s all over.”
“Once Mom dies, you mean?”
Sighing, I nod. “Yeah. I’m sorry, but that’s?—”
“It’s okay, Em. I know that’s the only way this arrangement ends.”
“This isn’t anarrangement. It’s a job, Parker.”
“Ghost,” he reminds me.
“Right, Ghost.”
“As for the pay, I’ll double your current salary, cover your mortgage payments, and provide you with a generous stipend to cover any expenses that are above and beyond what Mom’s medical expenses are.”
“I… wow.” A thought occurs to me, and I narrow my eyes. “How can you afford that? It’s not dirty money, is it?”
His eyes darken, and he scowls. “Do you really think so little of me?”
I have no clue how to answer that, so I settle for the brutal truth. “I don’t know you.”
