Page 25 of The Billionaire's Shrubbery

“A Monty Python fan.” He nods and smiles.

“Not sure I’d call myself a fan, but I have a thing for quotes, and they have some memorable one-liners.”

He stares at me without speaking again. If eyes could have sex, I’m certain mine are dry-humping his long, thick lashes. I blink and look away, letting him win that round.

“Twenty thousand dollars. How many plant care consulting hours is that in your current business model?” he asks.

“Current as of this morning? That would be two hundred hours.”

“Two hundred weeks. That’s four years of once-a-week visits. That math won’t work.” Will Power pulls his phone from his pocket and opens the calculator app. I watch as he taps the screen in silence. “How many client hours do you currently work in a week?”

“Twenty, but—”

“So, you have twenty hours free for more clients.”

“No, because I’m reworking the business model and have until next week to find a replacement for all but one of my residential clients. And then, following Mr. Lui’s advice, I’m to find one or two corporate clients.”

“Perfect. Has he suggested you approach Will Power & Bros. for a contract?”

I shake my head.

“Then I will.” He picks up his desk phone. “Savi, find out what business has the contract to care for the plants in this building. Have Legal send me a copy, please.” He hangs up. “I don’t know what kind of commitment we have with whoever’s doing the job now, but I hear from a reliable source that they’re doing a crap job of it.”

My heart swells. He doesn’t know it, but that endorsement is worth more to me than a hundred apologies for the public humiliation.

“This building has thirty-two floors of offices. I’m sure they all have plants somewhere on them. What do you have scheduled right now?”

I check my phone for the time. “Nothing until one p.m. when I have to be in the British Properties.”

“Cancel.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” he counters.

“Won’t. He’s an elderly man, and I’m helping him win back his dead wife’s love.”

Will Power raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth, but I wave and interrupt before he can speak.

“It’s a long story, but he’s the one client I’ll never cancel on, nor will I stop seeing personally.”

“Strange, but I respect the commitment. Here’s what I need from you—a detailed proposal for how many hours a week you’d need to properly care for all the plants in this building.”

“I’d need to see—”

“How many plants there are. I realize. Which is why I’d like you to cancel your appointments tomorrow, come back, and visit all the floors and offices so you know what’s needed. And then, I want the specific amount of time it will take for you to earn $18,000 working at your new rate.”

“Eighteen?”

“You really should’ve asked for your money back after how I spoke to you onstage.”

“I figured the jacket was worth two thousand.” I shrug a shoulder and smile.

“Fair.” He nods. “Since I assume you still need to pay bills and eat and such, I’d like you to figure out how long it would take you to work off an $18,000 debt at your old rate.”

“So basically, your company will pay me at my old rate until I earn $18,000?”

“No. Wrong on two counts. First, I’m not hiring you. I don’t have that authority. I’m asking you to prepare a proposal, which I will personally recommend to the department that does hire external contractors.

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