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She pauses, head tilted to the side in confusion. Her cheeks are red like roses. “You just said I didn’t get the job.”
“You didn’t getthisjob. But there is another position available. One I think you might be uniquely qualified for.”
A hopeful smile flickers across her face before she controls it. “There is?”
Fuck knows I’ve never seen Natascha smile, but if she did… She and this woman could be twins.
“It pays well. Better, actually. It includes an expense account, a personal chauffeur, and medical insurance for you and immediate family members.”
Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “What— Where— How am I ‘uniquely qualified’ for it?”
“Because from what I can see—” My gaze slides down the curves of her body, shoulder pads and all. “—you have the hips for it.”
She recoils. “What the hell does that have to do with a job?”
“Everything—ifyou choose to accept the position.”
“What position?”
“My wife and I have been married a little over a year, Ms. Barnes, and we’re… unable to have children.” I walk around the desk, turning the wedding band around and around on my ring finger and wishing, like always, that I could tear it off and melt it away. “I’d like you to be our surrogate.”
3
LAILA
“You’re kidding.”
He’s kidding. He has to be.
He’s kidding and this isn’t real and I’m just part of some weird reality prank show.
It would explain many things, including why Arsen Adamov is Hollywood Hunk handsome. And honestly, it wouldn’t be so bad, actually. If I let them air this footage, maybe I’ll see a cut of the money. A national audience watching my vibrator gleaming on the desk of my potential employer might make me unemployable to every other real job, but the money could tide Mom and I over for the next month.
Lord knows we need all the help we can get in that department.
I look around the office, hoping to spot a few hidden cameras stashed away behind a crystal paperweight or the leatherbound books on the shelves, but it’s just Arsen’s unflinching green eyes watching me. Not a smile to be found on his chiseled face.
“You’re kidding,” I repeat. “… Right?”
Out of all of the theories swirling around in my head for why Arsen Adamov would look me in my eyes and ask me to carry his baby, him being serious is not an option. Frankly, it’s not even in the top ten.
He stares back at me and shakes his head.
He’s really not kidding.
As reality melts down around me, what I want to do is turn around and get as far away from this man, this building, and this situation as possible. I want to run screaming for the hills and alert the major news networks.
Gaping crack in the Matrix right over that way. Just look for the hottie holding the vibrator. You can’t miss it.
What I do instead is drop back down on the chair so I don’t swoon like a Victorian maiden.
“You want me to carry your child.”
“So you were listening. Good.” He leans against the edge of his desk. He’s more than an arm’s distance away and still, it’s too close for comfort. Especially when he’s looking at me like that. Too amused. Too…appraising. “I understand this is a lot to take in.”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “This can’t be happening.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.” My voice is rising into autotuned,Alvin & The Chipmunksranges, but when Arsen speaks, it’s a cool rumble, like distant thunder. “I understand pregnancy can be a precarious experience. But rest assured: you will be compensated. Generously.”
