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He’s probably thinking of something a lot closer to medieval torture—or prison.
I don’t see a way out. Just like I didn’t have a choice about whether to come here and try to steal from Lucas, I don’t see another option that would allow me to reject this offer of his either.
Thanks a lot, Jason, you asshole. My ex has turned my life into a series of side quests when all I want is to pay my bills and watch movies with my sister.
Still, I hesitate, hung up on the fact that Lucas’s proposal doesn’t make any goddamn sense. He has caught me red-handed and is supposedly a ruthless businessman. Therefore, logic dictates that he would deal with me with a lack of mercy, and in a business-like manner. But he’s not. He’s practically throwing money at me, and I’m just not seeing a downside.
My sister gets out of trouble, Jason has no reason to pester me, I get a better job. So what’s the catch?
A muscle in Lucas’s jaw ticks slightly, a sign that he’s getting impatient. My stomach is curling in on itself as my brain flashes warnings all through my body. I can see him growing tense, like he’s working up to do something he really doesn’t want to do—and I’m fairly certain that I don’t want him to do it either.
“Okay,” I tell him in a rush. “I accept your offer.”
He snatches the artifact from me and steps back, finally giving me the space I need to take a full breath.
I don’t like this at all. What does he really want from me? He can’t be that desperate for a personal assistant, can he? All of the employees I saw seemed content enough, and it’s not like he had to buy the artifact back from me. He could have taken it by force at any time.
While my head spins trying to make sense of the situation, he’s already moving toward the little desk in the room.
“You have the rest of the day to get your affairs in order,” he says. He makes it sound like I’ll be dying tomorrow.Maybe I will be. He scrawls something on a memo pad. “You are to meet me at my house at seven tomorrow morning.”
He replaces the memo pad with a check book and writes some more. When he’s finished, he tears the sheet off the memo pad, as well as the check, and hands both papers to me.
“This is my address. That is your onboarding bonus.”
I stammer out a thank you, but he only jerks his head at the door. I don’t need more than that to hurry away with my knees wobbling. I glance at the check as I go and am instantly overwhelmed with a feeling similar to vertigo. Holy fuck. There are so many zeros. It’ll cover what I have to pay the drug dealers with enough left over to pay several bills.
This is an ‘onboarding bonus’?
A smart woman in L.A. knows what a big break looks like. This is mine. I should be celebrating my luck. I should be feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. I should be giddy with joy. I found my big break, and he’s gorgeous.
But still, I can’t shake the fear and confusion that continue to swirl around in my chest.
This is everything I ever dreamed of. And yet somehow, I feel like I just made a deal with the devil.
Chapter7
Sophia
I sort of expect to meet somekind of resistance or trouble when I try to cash the check, but the woman behind the counter at the bank seems utterly unbothered.
“So that’s ten out in cash, and the rest deposited into your account?” she asks with a sunny but bland smile.
“Yes, please.”
She types really fast, almost intimidatingly so. She’d probably be a better personal assistant to Lucas than I’ll be. Do personal assistants even do a lot of typing?
“Okay, there we go, all set. Are big bills okay?”
“That’s definitely preferable.” I nod, trying to keep my voice casual. The thought of trying to take ten thousand dollars in tens and twenties into the warehouse district makes a somewhat hysterical laugh bubble up in my chest, and I push it down. I would need to buy myself a briefcase for the cash and dark glasses for the aesthetic if I tried that.
Hell, if I really wanted to piss Reese off, I’d pay him in rolls of pennies.
“Great!” The teller beams at me. “Would you like a bag?”
Her question shorts my brain out for a second. I’m used to that question in grocery stores, but I’ve never been asked by the bank before. I don’t even know what ten thousand dollars looks like in hundred-dollar bills.
“Um, sure,” I tell her.
