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“What price would you propose, Ms. Thompson?” As he speaks, his full lips reveal straight white teeth. The better to eat you with, my dear.
My gaze meets his fathomless eyes. They draw me in, as if he’s trying to reach my soul. I shiver. What price is high enough to compensate for our dignity?
“Five hundred thousand dollars,” I say boldly. It’s ten years of work and a nest egg for my father. Maybe I can finally convince him to retire.
“Bold,” Jonah murmurs. “I’ll accept that offer, but I have one condition.”
“What is it?” I ask warily. This will be something awful, I’m sure.
“You have to work for me for one year.”
I frown. He probably wants me to work in the mailroom or something. “I’ll have conditions,” I say, at the same time as Jonah speaks.
“As my secretary.”
6
Jonah
Callie’s eyes widen with delicious surprise at my statement. Triumph heats my blood and I force my hand to still on my leg. Negotiating with Callie is an unexpected rush. She’s smart. I can see her mind whirring behind those dark blue eyes.
“As your secretary?” she repeats. Her cheeks are pink. I’m sure she’s picturing all manner of depraved things. My stomach tightens. Not happening. I don’t fuck people who plan to betray me. Because that’s exactly what she’s planning. She would be a fool not to, and I can tell Callista Thompson is no fool.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Ms. Thompson.” Her eyes flick to mine, as if surprised at how easily I can read her. “Yes, I know what you’re thinking.” I smile humorlessly. “But no. I have a secretary position for which I have been…unable to find a suitable candidate.”
“I’m shocked,” she mutters. I nearly smile. It seems I’ve cracked her pleasant facade.
“Yes, well, good help is so difficult to find these days.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why would you do this?”
Revenge. You stole mine and now I’ll take it any way I can get it. “Why not?” I shrug, like her answer doesn’t matter, when in reality, my skin is buzzing and my neck is prickling. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun. If tormenting her in this meeting is good, I can only imagine how it will feel to have her at my beck and call.
She tilts her head. She’s right to be wary. Come on, sweetheart. Say yes. I try for a casual expression. I’m well on my way to killing two birds with one stone—using her to get to Dylan and making her suffer along the way.
“If I do this, I want more money. A million dollars. And I have conditions.”
I dip my chin. A million dollars is nothing. “Name them. And then I’ll tell you mine.”
“I want to see the contract first.”
Smart. “If you’ll excuse me. I have it in my office.” I actually have a copy of it in the monogrammed leather folio sitting on the conference room table. I’ve been prepared for this meeting since yesterday. But letting a negotiating opponent stew can be useful.
I buzz George and pace my office while the phone rings.
“Have security pull the conference room feed up.”
“Spying on Ms. Thompson?” Their voice is amused.
“Just do it.”
They laugh and hang up. A moment later, the feed is up on my computer. I’ve done this before. Once, I made a particularly annoying investor wait for fifteen minutes while I answered emails and enjoyed a latte. It’s amazing what you can learn when someone thinks they’re alone. People will shift in their seats, pace, take notes, call their partners. Ms. Thompson doesn’t do any of that, though. The video is good enough quality that I can see her teeth digging in to her full lip. She’s still for a full minute, then she looks around furtively and pulls the folio toward her. I loose a choked laugh.
Of course she starts snooping. Typical fucking reporter. Can’t mind her own business. The dark thought makes my hand clench. There’s nothing significant in that folder. She must realize that as well, because she pages through the contract, then places the papers back in the folio and aligns it precisely where I had it. She’s good. Observant. Unwelcome respect floods me. She’s a reporter. It’s her job. And I can use her skills to my advantage.
I grab the contract and head back to the conference room, shoving down any unwelcome feelings about Ms. Thompson.
When I push open the door, she’s sitting calmly, like she wasn’t just going through my personal items.
