“Adding ten thousand dollars a year to your salary.” I pause, watching her mouth fall open. “Fully worth it to reduce the liability.”
She glares at me. “God, why don’t you harass anyone else about their footwear?”
“Everyone else can walk in their chosen shoes without risking permanent injury.”
Nick runs out of his office and skids toward the elevator, barely catching his balance. He points both hands at me like they’re guns.
Paige stares at me blankly.
“Okay, make that almost everyone,” I mutter. “Once you’ve changed into safer shoes, can you come to my office? I need to talk to you.”
“Is Beatrice okay?” Concern fills those big green eyes.
I blink at her. “How’d you know where I went?”
“She called and said that if you forgot to talk to me before you left today, I should call her back and she’d fill me in. Apparently, it’s of the utmost importance. I laughed a little at first because I thought we weren’t bothering her with work, but then...I wondered if it was serious.”
My jaw clenches.
So now Grandma’s meddling directly. Fuck.
I can’t help wondering if there’s something going on here that I’m missing.
If she and Nick are both willing to ride this crazy horse to the station, without giving me a chance to back out, maybe it’s as ludicrous as it seems.
“I’ll fill you in. Just hurry up,” I say, nodding at Paige and then heading to my office.
I barely have time to decide if I need to invent something else to talk to her about when she glides in wearing pastel-pink flats. A smirk pulls at my lips.
“Close the door, please?”
She gives me a skeptical frown but obeys.
“I must be in trouble. Awesome.”
“Nah, this is actually a salary renegotiation...of sorts.” I wave to the chair in front of my desk.
She bites her bottom lip and sits down.
“Let me guess. You want to cut my pay because you think we’re going to lose the Winthrope deal?” She asks bitterly. “If you want me to stick around earning less for my misery, then I get to work with the design team once a week in lieu of compensation. Beatrice was teaching me a lot, but she won’t be here so—”
“Will you just listen?” I say, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.
She closes her lips with a glance like a sheathed sword.
I never realized she’s such a team player. I also didn’t know Grandma was teaching her design intricacies when she doesn’t have the education.
“There’s a bigger reason than shoes why I’d like to enhance your pay. I want to give you a significant raise for a very special assignment.”
“Raise?” she whispers. “Wait. How horrible is this 'special assignment?'”
She’s so cute. Was I like this at twenty-four?
“Yes. We’d up your salary to the tune of three hundred thousand dollars per year.”
“Holy—” Her jaw drops. “Wow. And the assignment?”
She’s holding her breath, every nerve stretched on tenterhooks.
Yeah, fuck, she’s not the only one. It’s now or never.
“Play my fiancée for ninety days. The breakup would be on your terms. After that, I’ll move you over to the design team, or relocate you somewhere else. Anywhere you’d want, really, where you won’t be answering directly to me.”
Deafening silence.
My jaw could break from the tension. Cutting in when someone needs to make a decision like this comes across pushy. It doesn’t close deals.
She’s considering it, at least. That’s a good sign when hard noes come quick.
Her face turns red but her voice is even, quiet, strained when she speaks. “Ward?”
“Yes?” I tent my fingers, leaning forward.
“I might just be a drunk idiot who didn’t belong at your museum, but I don’t make stupid a habit. I don’t fake relationships. Not for three hundred thousand dollars a year and not for three million,” she says, lancing me right in the chest before she continues. “But I have to ask...why? A month ago, you were worried I’d single-handedly trash the company’s image. Why the hell would you ever want to fake marry me?”
My head might pop right off.
I’m so awful she can’t even fake a relationship for three hundred grand?
Damn.
I expected resistance and put on my best sales face, but this? This isn’t just no.
It’s a ball crushing hell no that hacks up my pride in little pieces and buries them in the desert. Still, I clear my throat.
“Paige, truth be told, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions that night. I damn sure shouldn’t have made it my mission to get you a pink slip. I