“things” happen as they may. I wouldn’t force it, of course, as that would be highly unprofessional. Still, “things” could definitely “happen.”
Just not for one million dollars.
Now that I’d accepted the big bucks, it was very important that I didn’t flirt back. That I resisted his advances. Hell, they might not even be “advances.” It’s like I thought before, he might just be physically incapable of not flirting. Flirting is hard-coded into his DNA, just like his perfect teeth and high cheekbones.
I held both of my hands up like a scale. In one hand I imagined sleeping with Noah Black. In the other I imagined one million dollars. This was a stupid little trick I always did when I struggled to make decisions. It usually helped, as silly as it was. I really projected everything into each of those hands. In the “Sleep with Noah” hand, I let my imagination start running wild. I thought of how his stubble would feel against my chin. About how he’d smell under the blankets with me. I thought about things much more detailed than that even, and I started to even feel wet thinking about it.
I took a long, deep breath, and I tucked all of those fantasies away into my left hand. I imagined a little devil sitting on my palm, because that was the “bad choice.”
I thought of the million dollars. I imagined it as at least fifteen years of total freedom to do whatever I wanted. I could write while working part-time at the library. I could wait as long as it took for the oldest librarians to croak, and I’d finally get that damn job as a real, full-time librarian. I wouldn’t even care about the pay—at least not for a while—but I’d finally get to have a dignified job doing something that I loved. This million dollars in my right hand was total freedom. It was what most people dreamed of.
So why wasn’t my right hand dropping down onto my knee like a dump truck full of bricks, flinging the little “sleep with Noah” devil up into the air so hard that he bonked his head on the ceiling? Why were my hands teetering precariously up and down, as if each of these fantasies had anything close to equal weight?
Every time I thought about Noah, my chest tightened, and my stomach felt like I was on a rollercoaster. I didn’t even like rollercoasters, but God I loved how my body reacted to that frustrating man.
The car stopped. It had stopped before at red lights and stop signs, but this time I heard the car go quiet. The chauffeur opened the door.
I looked at my silly little scale, my hands still held up in the air. I bit my lip and let the million dollars fall down lower. I couldn’t get it to go all the way down, but I definitely made it a little bit heavier. It wouldn’t be an easy decision, but it was decided. I would not sleep with Noah.
6
Noah
“This is a fucking disaster!” I growled to Silas.
“Is it?” he asked, a mischievous grin covering his face. “I think it would have been a disaster if I hadn’t acted so swiftly. So viciously. So—”
“Okay,” I said, cutting him off. “You did a good fucking job, but still.”
The most expensive and luxurious event in the last decade was starting tonight. It was departing from Manhattan, specifically from Pier 88. A fucking transatlantic cruise to Spain. The cruise to end all cruises. Where the Titanic was unsinkable, this cruise was unaffordable. You couldn’t just “buy” a ticket. You had to have enough influence for the privilege of paying the absolutely insane price tag.
I had no interest in cruises, for obvious reasons.
The problem was that our biggest competitor, Red Sun Press, had managed to get a dozen or so tickets. Two of their top and most cutthroat headhunters were going, and they’d invited several of our biggest authors along for the ride.
“I don’t do boats,” I told him.
“It’s not a boat, Noah. It’s the most luxurious cruise ship to have ever been built. It’s a city on the sea. It’s the Elysium, named after the realm of the gods. It’s so big you won’t even remember you’re on the ocean.”
My stomach lurched just thinking about it. “That’s the problem, dickhead. I feel the movement. All these wine-and-dine things are going to be in big dining halls. Everyone else will forget they’re on a boat, but my stomach isn’t going