Page 16 of BillionHeir
I tried to convince him to stay one more night at Sanctuary Springs, but Maxwell had a solution to every single concern I raised. When I told him that I needed to go home to pack, he told me that he would pay to have an entirely new wardrobe and whatever else I need delivered to his house in Maine. When I scoffed, he reminded me that he is a very rich man who can afford to spend as much money as he pleased, especially when it meant that he didn’t have to be inconvenienced. When I told him that I needed a shower, he told me I could take a shower after we made it to his house and got him settled. When I told him I didn’t have a car to drive us to Maine, he texted hisassistant to bring us a car. When I complained that I was hungry, he had the man run through a drive-thru on his way over.
He seems to have an answer for everything.
I am starting to think I may be the first person to ever tell this man no. But it is looking like anything that Maxwell Banks wants, he gets. It is a little intimidating, if I am honest. But I refuse to let him treat me like some slave who is here to be at his beck and call. I am his nurse, and I will be treated as such.
“Why don’t you sit back and relax,” I say with as much patience as I have right now. I have never met someone who was so handsome and yet tested my composure quite as much as the formidable Maxwell Banks. “You have been sprung from your personal hellhole. Now you need to rest. Goodness knows you weren’t getting any in that place with all the ranting and raving you were doing.”
Maxwell grunts but doesn’t say anything else. Probably because he knows I am right.
I don’t really know why he was so uncomfortable at the rehab. Most of our patients love it there. Some even swear that they rest more with us than they do in their own homes. We rarely have someone come in who doesn’t appreciate the luxurious atmosphere and the great expense taken to make sure that they recover as soon as possible.
But as with most things, I am quickly learning, Maxwell is the exception to the rule. From the moment he stepped into theplace, he was ready to leave. Maybe even before that if I had to guess. He didn’t even take a second to appreciate the opulence and top tier care that our facility had to offer. It really is the best in the state, and maybe all of New England. The staff there is simply incredible.
I think that is why I finally said yes. I was fully prepared to hold out. I thought there was no amount of money that could convince me to work for him. But the desolation in his eyes, the absolute misery and distress, finally tipped me over the edge.
Well, that and the fact that I never expected to be offered five million dollars for six weeks of work. I mean, I am a nurse, not a celebrity for goodness’ sake.
I am still curious as to why he was willing to go to any length possible to leave Sanctuary Springs. The place is many things, but unpleasant it is most certainly not. They go to great lengths to make sure that every patient has the best experience possible.
What could have been so bad that Maxwell couldn’t stand to stay there a moment longer?
I peer into the rearview mirror to find him reclined as far as possible in the captain’s chair he is sitting in. The sling on his left arm prevents him from leaning in that direction, making him look incredibly uncomfortable as he shifts his weight in a struggle to find the right position. His brow is furrowed and his eyes are closed in a grimace. I know they gave him pain medicinebefore we left, but with checkout taking as long as it does, that was probably a few hours ago at this point.
A few seconds later he groans as we go over a slight bump in the road.
“Do you want to do something to take your mind off of the pain?” I ask.
“I am in the back seat of an SUV that is stuck in Boston traffic. What do you propose I do, exactly?”
“You don’t have to be so snarky. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“I suppose,” he says, the annoyance in his voice bouncing around the car.
“Since you are lying down, I supposed the license plate game or ‘I Spy’ is out.” I try to remember the hours of games that Jenna used to make me play with her anytime we were in the car for longer than an hour.
“How about Twenty-One Questions?” Maxwell asks, sounding a little more perky. I check on him in the rearview mirror and see that he has inclined his seat a little, and he is watching me. “We ask each other questions one at a time, and you have to answer truthfully.”
“I suppose,” I answer cautiously. This feels suspiciously like a trap for someone who is as introverted as I am, but since I am the one who suggested we play something, I feel obligated to go with it. “You can go first.”
“Let’s start with something easy. Why did you leave the UK?”
“I have always been a bit weirdly obsessed with America,” I explain. “When it came time to choose a uni, I saw an opportunity and took it.”
“What is there to obsess over?” he mutters mostly to himself. “We are all just a bunch of self-centered assholes.”
“You sound rather cynical, Mr. Banks.”
He ignores my comment and continues. “Why didn’t you go back when you got your degree?”
“Because I can earn a higher wage. And I love it here,” I say before realizing what he just did. “Hey, that was two questions. No fair!”
“So it was,” he says. “You will have to learn to be quick on your feet if you are going to work for me. Go ahead.”
“How many houses do you own?” I ask, starting with something a little easier.
“Four. My summer house in Maine, my penthouse in Beacon Hill, a beach house in Malibu, and another penthouse in Miami.”
“I am sensing a water theme.”
