Page 44 of Return Billionaire to Sender

“Please. I’d never increase an offer by two hundred and fifty percent in a negotiation setting.”

“Yet you’re doing it for me.”

“Dedication should be rewarded.”

“You need to stop trying to get out of this,” I say.

“I wouldn’t be out of it. You’d have assurances that I’m playing it for myself while I’m present in the room, and you’d be able to report as much to your boss.”

“Except maybe you’re watching…but with the sound off and the screen black, right? And working or having a conference call on Bluetooth the whole time?”

He studies my face. “They can’t be paying you more than that. Fifty thousand. For a four-week gig?”

“It’s not happening.”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. But then he’s a master of the poker face. “Sixty. And that tip won’t be on the table for long.”

My mind reels with what I could do with that much money. I could get a decent place. I could get out of the credit card debt I accrued during my mother’s illness—I was spending money like a drunken sailor back then, paying for every little thing that I thought could help her or make her more comfortable. Or I could help a few of my friends with their down payments on new places. But sixty thousand isn’t enough to help everybody—not by a long shot. And no amount of money is worth trading in the only family I have—these amazing women who took me in, who’ve added love and meaning and endless joy to my life. “You would be wise not to bribe me again,” I tell him.

“Why?” he asks. “Why would I be wise not to do that? What are they paying you? Can you tell me that?”

“What Bexley Partners pays me is proprietary,” I announce.

“Come on, now,” Malcolm drawls, looking highly amused. “You know who I mean.”

My pulse races. Everything is so weird and complicated—why did I ever think I could pull this off? I need to get back to familiar ground.

I suck in a breath, reminding myself that I’m in charge here. Malcolm’s not in charge; I’m in charge. “I get it—you’re a billionaire. But guess what? That doesn’t mean that you get to go around bribing people and doing whatever ridic thing flies into your mind.”

“Whatever ridic thing flies into my mind?” His brown eyes become warm as he smiles. “I don’t know, most days being a billionaire does mean that.”

“Are you ready to resume? You don’t want to be late for your five o’clock,” I say.

He sits up, baffled. “Come on, now. You’re not really turning that down.”

“Yes, I am,” I say. “Are you ready to get back to it?”

His stare hits right down to my core. “They couldn’t be paying you more than sixty.”

“That’s not your concern,” I say.

He blinks, studying my face. My blood races. Was it crazy to turn that down? I feel like he’s on the verge of figuring me out. I wish so badly that I could consult with Willow right now. She’d know what to do. Or Jada. A lot of people who aren’t me would know what to do.

He says, “If there are other requirements, we could work together on that. Nobody will know.”

What does that even mean? I swallow. “The clock is ticking,” I say.

He tilts his head as if he needs to get a look at me from a new angle, like this angle isn’t making sense. “It’s my strong recommendation that you take it.”

What will happen if I don’t take it? He seems so in control—I feel like, at any moment, he could get up and walk out. Dare me to tell on him. Have me hauled away.

He’s waiting.

I fumble back to what I know—the only thing I know for sure: “You were mandated by a court of law to undergo this training. A court of law.”

His eyes sparkle. “Wait,whatkind of court?”

“Not funny,” I say.

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