“You’re right. I don’t.” I clear my throat. “I’m offering you a deal, a good one. Call it a devil’s bargain if you want, but if it ends with both of us getting what we want, then that’s just good business.”
She’s still fidgeting, nervous, uncertain. “I… I need to think about it.”
I nod. “Think all you want. I’ll give you the night.”
Then she’s already walking away, leaving me alone in my office with the ghost of her perfume and a strange fire in my chest.
I watch her through the glass partition as she moves through the outer office, her shoulders straight, her chin up…
… until the elevator swallows her up and she disappears from my sight.
7
ELIANA
sous vide: /so?o 'ved/:noun
1: a cooking method where food is vacuum-sealed and cooked at precisely controlled temperatures.
2: when you realize you’re trapped in an airtight situation with no way out and someone else is controlling the heat.
The L rumbles beneath me as I slump into an orange plastic seat. The train car is mostly empty—just me, a sleeping homeless man, and a woman reading a romance novel with a shirtless cowboy on the cover.
I almost laugh. At least her fantasy man isn’t trying to ruin her life. Mine just offered me a million dollars to be his corporate hostage for three months.
My body suddenly feels too heavy for my bones. The thought of hibernating has never been more appealing. Just me, a cozy cave, and three straight months of sleep? Sign me up, please and thanks.
But sleep is among the lamest of ways I could spend the next three months. Second only to working for Bastian Hale.
I still can’t believe I told him. I actuallytoldhim. Bastian Hale, ice king of Chicago hospitality, now knows my deepest, most terrifying secret.
And his response? To weaponize my health insurance needs against me.
Joke’s on me, though, right? I mean, what did I expect? Sympathy? Understanding? A hug and a fruit basket and aCondolencescard from Hallmark?
The thought of Bastian Hale hugging anyone is so absurd that I actually snort out loud. The romance novel woman glances up, probably wondering if I’m having a breakdown. Which, ya, I kind of am.
My phone buzzes.
Yasmin Kaur
How did it go??? Are you FREE?
I squint at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. How do I explain to Yas that I tried to quit, but LeBastard shredded my resignation, then offered me a million dollars after I word-vomited my medical diagnosis at him?
he made a counteroffer
OF COURSE HE DID. that manipulative bastard. how much?
… enough to make me feel like i’m going crazy
Kiss and tell, Elly! Kiss and tell!
seven figures.
My phone immediately rings. I send it to voicemail. Then it rings again.
“Seven FIGURES?” Yasmin screeches when I finally answer. “As in MILLION? With an M?”
