“You can!” I growl after her.

Her hand is on the door handle when she turns to look at me.

“Why? Why should I sell myself out for you?” she hisses.

“Because I dare you, Miss Angelo.” I step forward, rounding my desk. I don’t stop moving until we’re barely an inch apart and I’m leering down at her. “I dare you to step outside your comfort zone, for once. You’re not a risk taker. You’re a creature of habit, and it’s a goddamned shame that you let that hold you back from your full worth.”

The anger on her face fades as she swallows loudly.

For the briefest second, my senses roam her. I devour her shape, her scent, and that soft mahogany glow in her eyes that’s so magnetic I have to work to keep my gaze there. If she were any closer, my teeth would be buried in that soft pink bottom lip she juts out, severe and conflicted.

Doesn’t she understand just how fucking hard this is for me, too?

“Swallow for me,” I growl, quickly adding, “Swallow your damn pride, I mean. And I assure you, I’ll do the same, Miss Angelo. Work with me for even a few months. Share your gift. Get paid handsomely.”

I want so badly to reach out—to touch her—but I fuse my hands into my pockets.

Her face reddens. She looks at me with something like humility.

I’ve never seen anyone nod so slowly.

Hell, I half expect her to lunge at me and slap me across the face—here’s your deal—but instead, she lifts her chin and says, “Two.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Two hundred thousand dollars. I consider that fair compensation for putting up with—well, you, Cole Lancaster.”

Maybe she’s right. My sudden smile certainly makes me feel like the fucking devil.

“Done, Miss Angelo.”

Without a startled double take, she looks at me in grim silence.

I like the way this girl operates.

I also enjoy the way my name rolls off her barbed tongue.

Why do I get the terrible feeling that a sick part of me won’t mind being scratched raw by her words a few more times?

5

Good Morning Cup (Eliza)

My head might spin right off.

I’m panicked at what I just agreed to.

A dare? A flipping dare?

On the one hand, this is a dream come true. On the other, Boss McGrumpyface is going to be an absolute donkey and a half to work for.

My stomach lurches like a frappe in the blender.

I can’t pass this up. Dakota would smack me silly if I did, and so would Wayne.

Worse, Lancaster’s words resonated. Without even knowing me, he read my mind.

It’s just a little sacrifice, isn’t it?

And a chance to prove myself to this cocky fart wrapped in a suit.

If I just work in R & D for a year, I can do anything I want to after that...

Not to mention, it would be nice to make rent for once without dipping into listing old clothes on Poshmark. I’m running out of things to sell.

“I trust we have a deal?” he asks, undeterred by the awkward lump in my throat that’s stolen my voice.

Ugh. I still can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

“So you want me to work for you? For real?”

The longer he studies me, the faster my brave face crumbles.

“I thought that was clear?” he whispers, motioning me to sit back down.

I watch him sit up in his seat, a proud peacock of a man.

He writes something on a piece of paper and slides it across his desk. I glance at the number he’s crossed out and rewritten with his initials next to it.

It’s a contract.

For two-hundred thousand freaking dollars.

All for something I’ve been doing for free ever since I was old enough to drive.

Yeah, I need the smelling salts and a nice long nap. Or at least a primer on how people handle winning jackpots.

“I might, um, need a minute to think about this...just to be totally sure.”

A line forms in his forehead. Those dark-brown brows pull down in confusion. “You make more than that as a part-time assistant, Miss Angelo?”

“It’s not the money,” I whisper. “It’s a mammoth decision.”

“True. I’d offer you dinner to help you talk it out, but we have a strict HR policy against fraternization outside the office this late and in these circumstances.”

Oh, God.

Why does that hot look in his eyes say he wishes that policy were different?

Why do my toes scrunch up in my shoes?

“There’s one more thing. It’s not the compensation package.” I blank out. It’s hard to ask with a straight face while my cheeks burn, especially because when he’s not talking he’s kind of delicious.

If he weren’t a total buffalo dick who wasn’t a breath away from being my boss, maybe I’d take him up on that imaginary dinner someday.

The sly smile etched on his face doesn’t help.

“What else do you want? Spit it out, Miss Angelo. I have to get home sometime tonight.”

Tags: Nicole Snow Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net