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“Well, I’m not planning on becoming a monk.” The corner of his mouth tilts up into a smile. “But I’m not about to give a big fuck you to the board and my mother by having an orgy in Times Square.”
I laugh in spite of myself. “That’s quite the image.”
“My point is, I’m not planning to screw up the work we do by fucking about, or anything like that. I want this. But I need your help.”
“To stop you fucking about.”
Ryder doesn’t answer immediately, then finally, he turns, those melting chocolate eyes on me and I can barely breathe. “What answer do you want?”
“You’re just interested in chasing skirt, more than any of this.”
“Old fashioned of you.” He glances about and dips his head a little, but I see the slow grin. “To clarify, I’m way more interested in what lies beneath the skirt I’m chasing. But no sweet pussy is about to get in my way of what I want. The letter stipulates me being on the straight and narrow and the boring high road straight into morality town. Should be right up your shiny and pristine alley.”
“You have no idea what my alley is like.” I glare. He’s annoying right there along with the charm and hotness as sex appeal.
Hate crush. Fantastic. I can feel the simmering heat of electric push pull to him already.
“So the letter says be a monk for a month.”
He pulls a thick piece of folded paper from the inner pocket of his divine and no doubt bespoke three piece suit. It’s completely unsuitable for the kind of thing he’s talking about, a wild silk purple paisley on the inside and the material itself for the outer suit is a dark, soft red with a subtle black and purple plaid. It’s, in short, outrageous for business. And it’s completely devastating on him.
Ryder hands it to me. The paper, not the suit. That, he keeps on.
I scan the letter, and it’s everything he said. I just hand it back and he puts it away.
“As you see, it doesn’t say that, but scandal free and not making a lot of women happy is something I’ve been told I have to do. Which is why I’m here. So, take the damn job.”
“No.”
That’s self-preservation speaking, right there.
He looks me up and down. “I’ll pay you five times your asking price.”
I stare at him. If I were a weaker woman, I’d fall to the ground.
That’s…that’s an astronomical amount of money.
The fee I set Ryder Sinclair was already outrageous because he’s Ryder Sinclair and I figured if the billionaire wanted my services he’d have to pay.
Then I met him and realized I couldn’t do it.
But for that kind of money?
I can’t say no.
“Okay.” I get up and cross to him. “I’ll do it. But there are going to be ground rules. Follow them, or I walk.”
Chapter Three
Ryder
The woman is a barracuda.
I don’t care about parting with that much money, and she’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. I probably have. I’m more than aware that what I’m paying her would buy some rare and fine jewels, but this isn’t about money.
This is about history. My heritage. Something important to me.
Most think I only care about women, sex, fun, and money. And they’re not wrong, as I do care about those things. I like having a good time. Sue me. But I care about the intangible, too. Our family’s name and company belong to the family. And these Sinclair jewels? They’re important more than for whatever they’re worth. They’re our history.
