“How?” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it, but Roman just laughs bitterly.
“I’m ashamed to say that I am a good-for-nothing layabout, sitting pretty on my family’s money.”
My nose wrinkles. “Ew.” That word pops out without permission, too, but once again, Roman doesn’t seem angry or offended.
“I know,” he says flatly—like he dislikes the idea as much as I do.
Why does he stay where he is, then, if he hates it so much?
But it’s not my place to ask, and it doesn’t matter, so I ask him something different instead.
“Why would you offer me a job like this?”
“It’s just cleaning.”
He’s not wrong, but I love cleaning. And he seems to know that.
“Because fast food is depressing and call centers are worse,” he goes on with a sigh. Then he smirks, his gaze darting over my face as his former bitterness disappears. “And you, little vandal, deserve better.”
“You don’t know anything about what I deserve,” I say, but for some reason the words are hoarse, and the room is much too warm.
“I know you deserve better than the Barts of the world,” he murmurs, his eyes boring into me. “You deserve someone who buys you high heels and doesn’t care if you’re taller than he is.”
I blink in surprise as my pulse stutters. “How—” Breaking off, I clear my throat. “How did you know about that?”
He grins but doesn’t answer. “Name your price,” he says again.
Since he’s asking…“Twenty an hour.”
His eyebrows lift. “Aim higher,” he says, and it’s impossible to put a name to his expression—some mixture of amusement and delight. “You won’t get what you don’t ask for.”
I hesitate for only a second, my nails digging into my skin where my hands are clasped together, my heart thudding nonsensically. “Fifty,” I breathe.
A true smile breaks over Roman’s face. “Yes,” he says. “Perfect.” He inhales deeply and straightens up, his sparkling eyes still on me. “Fifty an hour it is. Did you need to ask Denice for anything else?”
“No,” I say, swallowing.
He thumps the desk and nods. “I’ll send you the address. Be there Saturday morning at ten.” Then he waves toward the door, raising his brows expectantly. Time to leave, I guess. So I nod my thanks and then turn on my heel, striding to the door and into the hall as quickly as possible with my head held high.
But once I’ve closed the door behind me, I find myself leaning against the wall, my legs shaky, my heart pounding.
What on earth is wrong with me?
Me
Second stream of income secured.
India
That was fast
Is it Panda X-pres? They’re always hiring
Can you bring home free citrus chicken?
Me
You say that now, but imagine if I smelled like fried rice all the time
