Page 56 of Dark Surrender

“I know you and Mr.…” He clears his throat as if he’s having a hard time getting the words out. “Mr. Grant had a… friendship.”

Oh.

So my boss is aware of my affair with the man. Or alleged affair.

Squeezing my eyes shut in fake mortification, I swallow hard and think of the saddest, most agonizing pain imaginable… Losing my sister. Tears do their thing, so when I open my eyes and look at my boss, they’re glassy.

On a broken sigh, his entire frame deflates, and out comes the protective, caring side some men are capable of. Which speaks volumes about my boss’s character.

“I don’t know, and I don’t need to know when you found out about his passing. But I am very sorry for your loss. I know you’re just returning from your vacation, and I’m sure this is a shock. I’d… I’d like to grant you another two weeks off, for…. You know… bereavement.”

Cue more tears. They slide down my cheeks, and my boss pushes a box of tissues across his desk for me. I take one and use it to politely dab away the evidence.

“Thank you,” I croak. “I’m… so lost. I… I know it wasn’t right…”

Brian waves me off. “There is no judgment here. I just wanted to extend your time off, and I… also…”

I fold my tissue like a lady would. “What?”

“I… Damn.” My boss sighs like he wishes the world would swallow him whole. “This is gonna make me sound like a complete dick.”

“Just say it. Please.”

“I need you to sign an NDA.”

“So I don’t talk about our relationship?” I guess, assuming his wife wouldn’t want me to talk to the media, given she just lost her daughter and husband. It makes sense. I might not have anticipated this, but I’m not surprised.

Brian slides a notepad across his desk and clicks a pen open. “Yes. The company is willing to offer a reasonable incentive for you to do so.”

“What kind of⁠—”

He reads from the notepad. “Half a million dollars, in addition to keeping your job, should you want, and your apartment for six months, until you can find another place to live.”

Now color me extra surprised.

Lips rounding in shock, I brush my fingertips over my décolletage. It’s something I saw in a movie once, when I was learning how to act around rich men. “Oh.” I throw in a little gasp for good measure.

“Fuck. Shit…” Brian tugs on the collar of his shirt. “I’m so sorry… I asked ‘em to have one of our lawyers talk to you, but they insisted I do it.”

Sitting forward in my chair, I gently touch the edge of his desk. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Ava, I truly am sorry.”

“Me too.” I force a polite smile. “I… I guess I’ll sign it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Leaning over his desk, my boss lowers his voice. “Can I offer you a suggestion?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Ask for more.”

“More money?” I act like I value his opinion when I don’t care either way. This was never about money to begin with. It was about ridding the earth of Harold and helping Dee. That’s what our jobs have been about.

“Yes. They can afford it, and they’ll give it to you. Go for a million, maybe even two. But you didn’t hear that from me.”