by Nikki Chase
But it's too late. Heath’s already opening his mouth, no doubt ready with a compelling sales pitch.
“Firstly, it won't be a nine-to-five job, so you’ll have more free time, enough to work on your book.
“You’ll also gain access to my contacts. If your writing is any good, you should meet someone willing to publish your book.
“And just in case it takes you some time to find a publisher, you’ll also get $500,000 from me. That way you won’t have to worry about money for a while,” he says.
For a while? More like for the rest of my life.
Heath’s basically offering me a shortcut to success.
I’d love to get a publishing deal, and Heath may know someone who can help me with that.
And if I decide to get into self-publishing, that $500,000 is going to be a huge help—not just because I’ll be able to live on that while waiting for my pen name to take off, but also because I’ll be able to use that money on marketing and promotions.
This could change my whole life for the better.
“Not a bad deal, huh?” Heath asks with an arrogant smirk. “I told you to at least listen to my offer.”
“You know I’m not like the girl in my book, right?” I ask. “That’s just fiction, Heath.”
“Of course I know that. I’m not an idiot.” Heath says.
So he’s not just doing this because he thinks I’m the submissive girl from my story. But then…
“Why me?” I ask.
Heath
Why her?
I’m tempted to respond with a flippant “why not?” but I’m trying to get her to take my offer. It’s probably not a good idea to provoke her.
But that’s such a stupid question.
She’s the obvious choice. She’s beautiful, intelligent, ambitious, and capable. Any guy would be lucky to have a son or daughter with those traits.
And of course it doesn’t hurt that she’s also sinfully sexy.
From the first day I saw her sitting at the desk in front of my office, I’ve fantasized about dragging her in here like a caveman and fucking her against my desk. I imagine her blouse undone and her skirt hiked up to show the juncture of her creamy thighs, where my engorged cock slides into her.
But there’s no need to get too chatty. At least not now.
A business negotiation is like a poker game. The less she knows about me, the stronger my position. I like to play my cards close to my chest.
“Well?” Kat asks, her red, full lips parted as she waits for my answer.
I have to stop myself from reaching out and claiming those lips for myself. That can wait.
“I have my reasons,” I say.
I need her to know that even though we’ll be having sex, we’ll still be an employer and an employee. I’m still her boss. I’m still in charge. She doesn’t get to call the shots.
“And you’re not going to share those reasons with me?” she asks. Small lines have appeared on the bridge of her nose, between her big, green eyes. But her little frown only makes her appear more delightful.
Delightful?
Ugh. What the fuck am I using a word like that for? It must be because I’ve just read some parts of her romance novel.
“No, kitten,” I say. “This is like a job interview. I’m offering you a position. You can take it or leave it.”
“I usually get to ask some questions at the end of an interview.”
“You do, and I reserve the right to choose what to disclose. Let’s just say that you have the kind of… genetic makeup that I’m looking for.”
“Healthy, twenties, fertile…” she lists off.
I laugh. “More like smart, sassy, pretty face…”
“I had no idea parents wanted ‘sassy’ kids these days,” she says.
“I do,” I answer honestly.
“Why do you want a kid in the first place?” Kat studies me with suspicion in her almond-shaped green eyes.
“Why does anyone want a kid?” I ask.
“To take care of them when they’re old and broke,” she answers quickly. “But you will never become poor—not even if you buy a new car every week. I’ve seen your financial statements.”
I chuckle. “You’re sharp, too, kitten. Someone with your brains and a good Ivy League education—in finance, of course—would go on to take on the world.”
“Ah, so you want someone to keep your empire going after you’re gone,” Kat says.
“Something like that.”
If that answer satisfies your curiosity, kitten, that will do.
Her red lips twist as she bites the inside of her cheek.
“That’s a bad habit,” I point out.
“I know,” she says absently.
“What are your considerations?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says. “My brain is just going ‘this is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy…’ on repeat right now.”
I can’t help but laugh at her honesty. Even though she usually keeps things professional, it seems like she’s finally loosening up. I say, “It’s obviously not so crazy you wouldn’t consider it, or you would’ve walked out of my office.”
“I guess…” she says softly.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you a taste of what’s to come. I’ll give you until the end of the week to decide. Meanwhile, you don’t have to come in to work and you’ll get $5,000 in the bank today. That way, you can see what it’s like to have all the time you need to write and not have to worry about money while you’re doing it. Today's Tuesday,” Heath says as he glances at his calendar, “so you have three days to decide.”
“And that’s… That doesn’t count as my agreement to take your offer, I assume.” She has a long way to go, but Kat has a natural instinct for negotiations. I’m sure that’ll serve her well when the time comes for her to sign a publishing deal.
“Not at all,” I say. “Just take the rest of the week off and get an extra $5,000 in the process. No strings attached.”
“I’d be stupid not to take it,” she admits.
“You’d be stupid not to take it.” I give her a cordial smile.
I’ve got this. The first step to winning a negotiation is getting your opponent to agree with you. Now that we’ve reached one agreement, it’ll be easier for her to say “yes” to my other, bigger offer.
It’s also a good idea to be generous. Research shows that the idea of reciprocity is sound. If you do someone a favor, they’ll like you and they’ll want to do something nice for you, too.
This means I can essentially buy goodwill. And with the amount of resources at my fingertips, there’s no end to the favors I can do for Kat.
“I’ll give you my answer before the end of the week,” Kat says as she gets up from her chair and starts to make her way to the door.
Not so fast, kitten.
I catch up to her and corner her against the wall. “Didn’t you forget something?”
Kat leans her head back and looks up at me. There’s apprehension in her eyes—I’ll admit this is a highly unusual situation and she has good reason to worry. But there’s something else, too, deep in those moss-colored eyes, so deep most people would miss it.
Lust. Wild, uncontrollable lust. The kind that has been suppressed for so long it would incinerate everything within her reach once it’s let out.
And I can see from the way she gazes at me that she already expects me to be the one to take her inner slut out to play. I can’t wait.
“What is it?” Kat asks. Her lips part, letting her breaths out in shallow little pants.
“I told you I was going to give you a taste of what’s to come.” I put my palms up against the wall, caging her in.
Kat says nothing. She only glances at my hands on either side of her head and swallows as she directs her gaze back to me.
She wants this. I bet it’s not just her face that’s filling with blood. I can almost make out her nipples as the hard little peaks poke through her thin white blouse.
The corners of my lips tug up. “I wasn’t done showing you the benefits of this arrangement.”
I grab her hair in my fist. I swear her eyelids flutter shut and, in a split second, as soon as she opens them again, the hidden lust from before roars to the surface. She just opens up for me—eager, yielding, submissive.
Fuck.
I crush her lips with mine, and I feel her body melt under my touch. She’d spread her toned legs faster than hot butter if I were to take here right here, right now.
But I have to be patient. She might run away if I get too hasty.
This is a game. And I have to play my cards right.
Once, I made the mistake of letting my dick do the thinking for me. But guess what, kitten? I’m in full control now—of both my own desires, and of your delicious little body.
I can’t wait to have more than just a taste. But today’s not the day.
When I pull away and let her go, Kat drifts down the wall for a second before she regains her balance.
That’s right. I bet your legs feel weak now.
She stares at me, wide-eyed and alarmed, as if she has just realized what’s happened.
But she doesn’t waste much time staying confused. She smooths out her blouse and pencil skirt, as well as her hair, which is put up into a neat bun as usual. And my prim-and-proper assistant is back.
Interesting.
“Like I said, I’ll, uh, get in touch before Friday.” She gives me a quick glance, as if afraid of what those pretty eyes would reveal if she lingered.
And then she’s gone.
But only for the week.
I know she’ll be back. And when she comes back, it’ll be as the future mother of my child.
Kat
“You kissed Heath Anders?” Jane almost screams the question.
“Shh…” I put a finger against my lips. I’ve been telling her to quiet down, but she just won’t do it.
We’re in our own living room, but the walls are thin and I know how shocking this news is.
Heath Anders used to be all about working hard and playing hard. And by that I mean there are pictures still circulating today of him snorting some white powder up his nose, with multiple girls hanging on his arms.
But that was the old Heath. He stopped his partying ways when he met the woman who would later become his ex-wife. And after the divorce, he just never got back to his old ways.
People are dying to hear some juicy personal news from Heath Anders. I’m sure there are gossip journalists out there who’d kill to learn about the hot kiss he gave me in his office today.
“He kissed me,” I correct Jane. “I didn’t do anything.”
“And by that you mean you kissed him back, right?” Jane looks at me with so much hope in her hazel eyes you’d think she was waiting to hear me announce her lottery number as the winner of some multi-million jackpot—or, since this is Jane we’re talking about, give her the insider info on the stocks Heath is personally holding.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“I knew it!” Jane exclaims with victory. “I told you he wants that ass.”
I let out a big sigh. I really have no idea how to feel about this whole thing. “I checked my bank account and the money’s already there.”
“Of course it is,” Jane says with the absolute conviction of a true fan. “If Heath Anders says it was going to be there, then it would be there. What, you think he doesn’t have $5,000 to spare? The financial papers say he made, like, seven million dollars on his last transaction.”
“No, I just… I don’t know. I keep thinking this must be just a dream, or a prank, or something… you know? Something other than an actual offer for me to have his baby.”
“I still can’t get over how bold of a move it is,” Jane says with more than just a hint of admiration in her voice. “That’s just like Heath Anders. He’s a ruthless shark.” She sighs with regret. “God, I wish I could tell someone about this.”
“I’ll kill you if you do,” I say quickly before she gets any ideas.
If people find out about this… I don’t even know what that’s going to do to my good name—not that people would remember and recognize my name if the news got out today… but one day, I will be a household name.
“You know, Kat, if this gets on the news, it could be a good thing for your romance career. You want to put your name out there, right?”
“Not like that.”
I’d rather not have a nasty scandal be my claim to fame.
I mean, look at Monica Lewinsky. It’s been more than twenty years since her thing with Bill Clinton, and that’s still the main thing people remember her for. We’re already on our third president since that scandal, for God’s sake.
No, a sex scandal doesn’t go away. And I want to be known for my writing.
Right now, I can’t even get people to read my book, much less like it and become fans of my work. Something’s missing and I know it’s not my writing. If I can just get my foot in the door, I know I can make it.
And then maybe Vera will stop treating me like shit, and maybe my dad will see how much I’ve grown and he’ll want to see me.
One can dream.
It’s been years since I last saw my dad—or my real mom, for that matter. According to Vera, my dad just showed up with me one day and admitted that I was his child with his mistress. I was four.
To her credit, Vera took me in and let me grow up with her kids. I was always aware that I was different—I always had to wash my own dishes and theirs too—but at least I had a home.
When I was fourteen, Dad left and that place stopped becoming a home. It became hell.
Vera blamed me for everything—for my dad’s infidelity, for looking so much like him, and even for the electricity being cut off (even though the whole reason that happened was because she hadn’t worked in months and we had no money in the bank to clear the check I’d mailed on time to the utilities company).
“Are you going to do it?” Jane asks, startling me back into reality.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “If I think about it, it’s not so different from what my mom did with me, right? She gave birth to me, and then gave me to my dad to take care of.”
“Plenty of people become surrogates these days, Kat,” Jane says. “Even Kim and Kanye are hiring one. It’s getting more and more common.”
“Really? I don’t know anybody doing that.”
“That’s because you don’t have rich friends,” Jane says plainly.
I shrug. That’s true, I guess, and it doesn't offend me one bit.
Most of my friends make enough to live on. They write for the paper, take photographs for travel magazines, and edit videos for advertising agencies. Those jobs come with a lot of perks, too, on top of the salaries, like free travel or backstage admission at concerts.
But Jane’s friends, who are investment bankers just like her, make the kind of money that would make relatives of the Saudi king jealous. Jane’s just starting out herself, but I have no doubt she’ll start making six figures in no time.
“A few of my colleagues have been talking about doing it. That’s why I know,” Jane says. “It’s a huge topic among the women in my office these days. They want to have families, but they don’t want to sacrifice their careers. Plenty of women have been demoted after taking their maternity leaves. Finance is a cut-throat industry.”
I nod along to Jane’s story. I like how different our worlds are, and I enjoy the occasional glimpse into hers.
“So, for these women, surrogacy is the perfect solution. It’s not cheap. The national average cost for it is between $98,000 and $140,000.” Jane looks right at me. “So that $500,000 Heath offers you is very generous. That’s between three and five times the national average.”
I can always count on Jane to give me the facts and figures.
She gives me an impish grin. “I guess the higher fee is because he wants to do it the old-fashioned way.”
I try to stop my body from reacting, but it’s too late. Before I know it, my whole face is burning. Damn it.
“Ooohhh… Someone’s looking forward to it,” Jane teases me.
“Shut up,” I say. I cup my cheeks with my hands in an attempt to bring the temperature down. I pause to think for a few moments and give Jane a serious look. “You really think I should do it?”
“I don’t see why not.” Jane shrugs. “You’ll get a lot of money. You’ll get a lot of time to write and polish your manuscript. You’ll get a book deal out of it—” Jane holds up her index finger before I can open my mouth “—and don’t even dare say that you may not find anyone to publish you because you will. You absolutely will.”
I stare at Jane. “So you think I should do it?”
“It’s your decision, Kat. If I were you, I’d do it.” Jane giggles. “But let’s be honest here. If I were you, I would’ve jumped his bones for free.”
“It’s about the baby, Jane. Not about the sex,” I say, even though I don’t buy that myself. How can I, when my body still thrums at the thought of the sizzling kiss he gave me at the office today?
“It’s about both, Kat. Face it. He wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise,” Jane insists. “But since you brought it up, I’m sure the baby will be in good care, too. I remember reading some magazine—this was when Heath was still married—about how he was looking forward to building a family.”
I can only nod along. I don’t keep up with updates from the real world because most of the time I’m busy with my own fantasy world.
Luckily, Jane reads everything: gossip tabloids, financial newspapers, political websites, women’s magazines, and even cooking blogs (although she doesn’t even cook). She keeps me up to date with the latest developments in the real world.
Jane continues, “And that’s why Heath stopped partying. He was ready to be a family man. Your baby won’t just grow up with material wealth, but also a good dad who’s present.”
“My baby,” I form the word on my tongue and sound it out.
It’s strange. But I don’t dislike it.