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“Why not? I’m a billionaire, Spitfire. I’m not hurting for money. I can give you whatever you ask for.”

Maeve looks like she’s in genuine shock. “You—just because you can throw money at anyone doesn’t mean you can buy me. I’m not going to be bought.”

I purse my lips. This woman has never been intimidated by any of us, and she’s also got her dignity. If she hadn’t been good at this executive assistant job when she first started, I think she would’ve demanded that I fire her, no matter how much she needed the money. That’s just who she is.

“I’m sorry,” I say, lifting a hand. “That’s not what I mean. What I mean is that I would be asking a lot of you, in this role, and I want you to be compensated fairly. So whatever price you feel would work, that’s the price I’ll pay. You don’t have to worry about asking for too much.”

Maeve narrows her eyes. Not like she’s suspicious anymore, but like she’s doing math in her head.

I got a good look around the apartment while I was waiting for her. I know it was rude of me to snoop and I tried not to do too much of it, but I couldn’t help my curiosity. It’s smaller than some closets I’ve seen; a studio, the secondhand furniture close to falling apart, the kitchen appliances and tiled floors so old that no matter how much you scrub them, they’ll probably never look clean again.

Maeve deserves to live in a much better place than this. A place with a proper kitchen, at the very least. Given the quality of her cookware, I know she’d love that. I’ll happily pay whatever is needed so she can have it. Although the salary we give her, especially with the overtime bonuses, should’ve already been enough for her to rent a much better place.

A frown tugs at the corners of my mouth. I want to ask why she’s living here when she could afford better, but I get the feeling Maeve wouldn’t appreciate it. She’s never said a word about what happened between her and Liam or what her circumstances were before they started dating, and I’ve never found a good way to ask.

“How long would I have to pretend to be your fiancée?” she asks, drawing my attention back to our conversation.

“Just until the deal is signed. Shouldn’t take too long. Once that happens, we can start backing off. Take some time apart. I’ll tell George that things didn’t work out, but by that point, he’ll realize it doesn’t matter. We’re the right company for Silver Start to partner with. We’ll have proven ourselves.”

The man is an idiot, if you ask me. He should be grateful all three of us are bachelors. Time after time, I’ve seen businessmen screw their lives and companies over because of love. They can’t resist taking a mistress, and then their wives divorce them and take half of everything, including the business. They throw everything away for hot wife number three. They stop focusing on work because they have a new girlfriend.

On and on and on. Love is a terrible distraction at best, and an actual hazard at worst—a danger. It can upend your entire life.

But it’s not my job to change George’s mind. It’s my job to make sure this deal goes through.

Maeve chews on her lower lip lightly. “This will probably last at least through the holidays, then.”

“Probably. We’re on a time crunch to get the deal signed before the end of the year. Then we’ll need a little time in January.”

She nods. “All right. If you want me to pretend to be in love with you for all that time, it’ll cost you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

I can’t hold back my smirk. She could ask for more than that. She should have gone high, then bargained down. “I’ll double that. How’s five hundred thousand sound?”

Maeve goes pale, like she might pass out. I’m actually alarmed, nearly reaching out for her to steady her on her feet. “That’s half a million dollars.”

“It is, yes.”

“Oh my god. That would be enough to—” She cuts herself off, clearing her throat.

I tilt my head to one side, curious what she was about to say. Enough to do what? But I don’t ask. It’s not my business, and while I know that I’ve as good as broken into her apartment, part of being a good negotiator is to know just how far you can push. And, like any good negotiator, I know when to keep silent and wait out the other person.

Finally, Maeve speaks. “All right. But I won’t go back to being your assistant afterward. I meant what I said about quitting. I can’t work for you and the others anymore. I have other things to do with my life.”

She sounds passionate, more so than I’ve heard from her before. I wonder what it is she wants to do with her life, what drove her to march into my office today and quit.

“We can work that out later when the time comes,” I say, biting back the questions burning at the back of my tongue. “I don’t think that we need to hammer down every detail just yet.”

I have no intention of letting Maeve out of my life, but I can cross that bridge when I get to it.

“As long as you’re on board,” I add.

She narrows her eyes, a little line appearing between her brows. I have the feeling she knows that I’m not letting this ‘quitting’ thing go. I’m sure she’ll fight me every step of the way, but like I said, that’s an issue for another day.

“What will the ground rules be?” she asks. “What would you require? How… intimate would we have to seem?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m not buying anything from you, just your time. There might be the need for an occasional public kiss, but only something light. A peck. I’d obviously offer you my arm. Maybe put a hand on your back, an arm around your waist. Just casual physical touches. But I don’t think anyone wants to see any PDA from us like we’re teenagers.”

Maeve nods. “That makes sense.”