More than ever, I need that cup to deal with him.
Being sure he’s still outside, I hurry to the counter and pick up the coffee that’s now lukewarm. Still, it’s caffeine. And it’ll help clear away the cobwebs in my thinking.
As I take my second blessed sip of the mocha-flavored beverage, he speaks into my ear. “Ready to begin negotiations?”
Yelping, I jump, sloshing my drink onto the marble counter. How did I not hear him return?
The man is definitely part demon.
“I’ll wipe that up.”
Somewhat shocked that he didn’t demand that I do it, I slip onto the bar-height chair at the island.
More comfortable than I’d imagine him being in the kitchen, he grabs a dish cloth, dampens it, and cleans up the spill.
“Fresh cup?”
“Please.” As good as this is, hot would be much better.
As he’s adding the creamer, he glances at me “Same amount as before?”
“It was acceptable.” Good, actually. But I have a hard time offering him a compliment.
Moments later, he slides a mug in my direction and grabs himself a fresh one, as well. I’m captivated by him, unable to look away.
“Where were we?”
I break my gaze away from his forearm and take a sip. “Work hours.”
“I can be reasonable. Triple sevens?”
Right before I ask what he means, I figure it out. “Seven a.m. to seven p.m. Seven days a week?” The man wants to consume my every waking hour.
Maybe I should be grateful he doesn’t want to consume the ones when I’m sleeping.
Disturbed by the thought, I flush and glance away.
“If you’re honest, that would probably be less time than you’re working right now.”
No doubt he’s right, once I factor in the food deliveries. “Five days.”
“Six,” he counters.
“Five and a half.” I shake my head. “Final offer. And I will be leaving at four-thirty on Thursdays because I have happy hour with a friend.”
“You could always come back after drinks.”
When my defenses are down? “Not a chance.”
Without speaking, he inclines his head, conceding the point.
“I’ll work half a day on either Saturday or Sunday.” I need time to run errands and take a bath. Maybe enjoy a walk along Buffalo Bayou. I gave him all my energy once upon a time. I’ll never do it again.
“At this point, you’re asking for 80k, benefits I shouldn’t offer, and part-time hours?”
I do a quick calculation. “That’s sixty-six hours, Mr. Blackwell. More than full-time. Perhaps I need a raise.”
“Oh, Seraphina. You are a troublemaker.”
