Page 2 of Billionaire Alien Boss Daddy

He steps back, holding his hands up like I’m pointing a gun at him. “Fair enough. Let’s sit down.”

I hesitate, then reluctantly sink back into the chair.

“All right, Silas. What do you mean byextra duties? And don’t give me some corporate double-talk. Be specific.”

His grin widens, and I swear his plastic surgery makes it look like it’s about to crack. “Okay, here it is. I want you to be a corporate spy.”

I rub the bridge of my nose, feeling the start of a headache creeping in. “You can’t pay me enough to break the law, Silas.”

He puts his hands up like he’s surrendering. “I’m not asking you to. Not really.”

“Oh, that’s comforting,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “What’s the job, then?”

Silas leans forward, his plastic smile stretching. “See, there’s this guy—Simon Karr. He’s been poking around New Orleans lately. Big guy, flashy, owns a Formula One team. He’s been sniffing around my business, and I need to know why.”

“Wait, Simon Karr? The guy who races his own car?” I frown, trying to place the name. “I’ve seen him in the news. What’s he doing here?”

Silas waves a hand dismissively, his face twisting like he’s swallowed something sour. “Oh, please. Driving around in circles isn’t exactly brain surgery. He’s just another rich guy with too much time on his hands.”

“Jealous much?” I raise an eyebrow.

He scoffs, leaning back with a forced chuckle. “Hardly. But here’s the thing—I’ve got reason to believe he’s been spying on me. And not just the corporate kind.”

Silas swivels his monitor around, tapping the keyboard. A video plays on the screen—a grainy security feed of a masked figure sneaking through the Parthenon’s server room. The guy’s huge, easily a head taller than the filing cabinets he’s rifling through.

“That’s him,” Silas says, pointing at the screen. “Or at least, I’m pretty sure it’s him.”

I squint at the video. The guy’s wearing a black mask and gloves, but his build is unmistakable—broad shoulders, towering height, and a stride that’s almost predatory. “How can you possibly know that’s Karr? The man’s wearing a ski mask.”

Silas gives me a look like I’m missing the obvious. “Claire Bear, look at him. He’s built like a brick house. How many guys that size are walking around New Orleans? Come on, it’s gotta be him.”

“Don’t call me Claire Bear,” I snap, leaning back in the chair. “But okay, fine. Let’s say itmightbe him. Why not just go to the police?”

Silas groans, rolling his eyes. “I already did. They came up with jack and shit. And jack left town. The NOPD doesn’t exactly specialize in corporate espionage, Claire. I need someone—someone like you—to get close to him. Find out what he’s up to.”

I shake my head, my stomach churning. “I’m not some private investigator, Silas. I don’t even know the first thing about spying.”

“That’s where I come in,” he says, leaning forward with that sleazy salesman grin. “I’ll get you a job as his personal assistant. You’ll have access to his office, his devices, everything. All you have to do is keep your eyes and ears open.”

“And if I get caught?”

“You won’t,” he says, but the way he avoids my eyes tells me he’s not as confident as he sounds.

“Silas, this is insane. I’m not risking my career—or my freedom—for this.”

He sighs, pulling a checkbook out of his desk drawer. “How does half a million sound?”

I freeze, my mouth going dry. “That’s… that’s a lot of money.”

“And if you find proof—either way—I’ll fund your own startup. Any business you want. You’ll be your own boss.”

My heart skips a beat. My own business. No more late nights in a cubicle, no more answering to people like Silas. It’s tempting—too tempting.

I chew on my lip, staring at the floor. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Probably,” he says. “But it’s also your ticket out of corporate hell. Think about it, Claire. Your own company. Your own rules.”

I take a moment to try and think, my mind racing. This is insane. Dangerous. Reckless. But… it’s also the kind of opportunity I’ve been dreaming of.

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