Billionaire's Second Chance

es, offering to hang out in her comfort zone, even helping her with homework. But it wasn’t enough. I had to do more. Suddenly, I had a flash of inspiration and logged onto the MBA homepage of my alma mater.

If I submitted her abstract for publication in their Economist Tribune, they would jump to accept it purely based on my recommendation. I could gladly throw some money at them if that helped, but I did more than enough to uphold the university’s financial standing. There was no way they would decline something that came from me. I had to be careful, though, in letting her know just how much influence I had on their decision. She needed to know that it would not have happened without me, but her pride would suffer if she didn’t feel she merited the publication. In order to get her running into my arms, I had to find the perfect balance between the two.

I had begun working on the submission when she walked in.

“It’s almost 6, did you want me here tonight?”

“Of course, every night. Didn’t we go over this?” I looked up at her.

She frowned. “You just look busy is all, I wasn’t sure-”

“Seriously, every night.”

“Did you get a chance to go through my paper yet?”

“Yes.” I chose my words very carefully. “It’s promising, but certainly needs more work and some solid data.”

She bought my bluff and her face fell. All the better for when she would finally learn about the publication. I felt a rush of excitement. If that didn’t do it, I didn’t know what would.

“I knew it,” she said in a disappointed voice. “I am sorry for putting you through reading that crap. You don’t have to help me with it if it’s beyond hope. I don’t want to waste your time on something that sucks.”

“If you only knew how much time I waste on things that sucked,” I winked.

She gasped. “That’s awful. And 23.”

“Huh?” 23 what? What was she talking about?

“Since the beginning of our contract, you have objectified or insulted women a total of 23 times.”

“You’ve been counting?” I widened my eyes.

“Not consciously until about 17,” she shrugged helplessly.

“Does it really bother you that much?”

“Men are all a bunch of pigs who cannot think without their dicks for more than five seconds in a row,” she said with so much feisty passion; she was turning me on. “How did that feel?”

“Like the truth,” I smiled.

She pursed her lips. “You are beyond hope.”

“Your paper doesn’t suck,” I replied without thinking.

“But you just said-”

“I said it could use some work, which is what we are going to do. Don’t worry.”

“Can we do it without being sexist?” She bit her lips, as though she didn’t really mean to say that. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you were sexist.”

“You straight up called me a sexist. That’s not implying anything,” I frowned. I really wasn’t. I just had been searching for a woman who could match my intelligence, and I had yet to meet one in the financial industry. I still hired plenty of women and they all got equal pay. Aria was intriguing though.

She mumbled something inaudible.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she flashed me the brightest smile she could muster. “Would you like some coffee?”

“You keep offering to make me coffee, what’s your game?” I eyed her suspiciously.