Page 68 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
When I turn around, Jenna is wide awake, watching me.
"Was that your mom?" she asks.
I nod. "Just some work stuff." Then, "Speaking of which, have you told your parents about us?"
"No," she says. "Why would I?"
I lift an eyebrow. "Really?"
"You honestly think your mom is going to send a PI to talk to my parents?"
"I think my mother is unpredictable, and there's no telling what she's capable of. So yeah—you might want to give your folks a heads-up."
She lets out a long sigh and nods. "This is turning out to be more work than I expected. But it's okay. At least when it's all over, I can say I earned every penny of that million dollars."
I smirk and head back to the couch. She shifts over to make room for me, resting her head on my chest.
"What are you going to do with your million dollars?" I ask.
"Most of it's going back into my business," she says instantly, excitement lighting her voice. "Some new hires, more marketing—you know the drill. I want to reward my current team, too. Maybe a bonus, something to thank them for helping me get this far."
"You already pay your employees a lot."
"Not enough for the amount of work they do, trust me."
I figure this is as good a time as any to ask what's been on my mind.
"Why?" I ask.
"Why what?"
"Why pay them so much? You're offering more than anyone else in your field."
"You pay your employees well, too," she points out. "I saw a few of your job
"Yeah, but comparatively, your package is still better, and I have a feeling we're not doing it for the same reasons."
She pauses, then says, "I've worked my whole life, you know. Since high school. Middle school, if you count my lemonade stand. I'd stand out in the heat all day and maybe make fifteen, twenty bucks if I was lucky. Later, waiting tables through college, I was on my feet all night and didn't earn much more than that. Meanwhile, the restaurant owner was making millions." She shakes her head. "I've never understood that—having so much excess while the people breaking their backs for you struggle. I believe in letting the wealth go around. I alwaysknew that when I owned my own business, I'd pay my employees enough to actually live."
I'm quiet for a few seconds, taking her in.
"You think I'm a naïve bleeding heart, don't you?" she asks.
"No," I chuckle. "Not at all. I think you're… amazing, actually."
"Really?" she says softly.
"Really."
Something shifts in the air between us—warm, intimate, dangerous. It unsettles me. I clear my throat, searching for a way to break the moment.
"I have to buy a birthday present for a cousin. She's about your age. I was thinking of getting her a purse. Any recommendations?"
She brightens instantly. "Funny you should say that! Yves Saint Laurent just released this new—" She cuts herself off mid-sentence, narrowing her eyes. "Wait. Why are youreallyasking?"
"Like I said, I need a gift for a cousin."
"Uh-huh… you're not planning to buy me a purse, are you?"
