Page 71 of Return Billionaire to Sender

My blood races. What I’m about to do is crazy, even for me. But I have to know—can she truly not be bought? Is it possible? “A million dollars.”

She hits pause and turns to me, pretty lips parted. “Excuseme?”

“A million. All for you. Set for life.”

She frowns, bewildered. “You would pay mea million dollarsto stop making you watch these videos? You hate them that much?”

“Yes, I hate them that much. And I’m offering you a million dollars to make it stop.”

“Is it because you feel bad that these people are going to lose their homes?” she asks.

“What?! Why does it matter?” I say. “The point is, I’d watch them as discussed, and you can report back with a clear conscience. You’d be able to report back that you forced me to watch them.”

She shakes her head. “That doesn’t work.”

“What do you mean, that doesn’t work?” A million dollars doesn’t work for her?

“It just doesn’t,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because you need to do the program that I have created.”

I laugh. “Is this a joke? A million, Elle. Come on. It won’t be on the table forever.”

“Good,” she says. “How about we get it off the table right now?”

“No,” I say.

“Do you want an X?” she asks.

“What exactly is your deal with Corman?” I ask, mystified. “Does he have some kind of leverage over you? Are you in legal trouble or something?”

“Is it so stunning to you that somebody would care about something more than money?” she asks.

“In a word? Yes,” I say. “And if you care about those people so much, I just offered you a million dollars. You could buy the residents of the building their own condos.”

“There are forty apartments in there. A million divided by forty is twenty-five thousand dollars per unit—maybe half that per person. That’s moving expenses, a down payment and a few months’ rent. They’d still lose their beloved homes.”

“Out of curiosity, is there any price that would work?”

A strange look comes over her face. She picks up her glass and contemplates the bubbles rising lazily up through the bright amber liquid. Then she turns her attention to me. “What would it cost to buy the building?” she asks.

“The building’s not for sale.”

“I thought everything was for sale,” she says.

“Well, there is a price but I won’t pay you that.”

“How about just to stop the project,” she says. “You keep the building as a landlord, and you let the people have their homes.”

“Why do you care what I do with this building?”

“You asked my price and I told it to you.”

“Is there a hidden camera somewhere here?” I joke.

She glares.

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