I think for a moment, still frowning.
“Yes, but—”
Margaux cuts me off.
“You’ve been trying to find funding for your latest children’s book, haven’t you?”
I nod. I’ve made it no secret that my true passion is as an author, and that I adore writing and drawing. Margaux knows I don’t want to be with City Girls much longer, but she also knows that it takes capital to put out a book because they need to be printed, marketed, and advertised with a launch party, blogger call outs, and a huge advertising budget. Therein lies the rub, and my manager uses it to her advantage.
“I know you really want to move on, and there’s nothing wrong with that,” she says persuasively. “No girl should stay in this lifestyle forever. But think about how much you’d make in the next three months, and how that could push you to the next level with your new business. Mr. Montlake is offering three times your regular pay for three months, Simona. That means you’re going to net six figures, even after City Girls takes its cut. Just look at it as seed money for your next venture!”
I bite my lip because her words have the ring of truth. The extra money from this job would help a ton, and hell, the amount is so enormous that maybe I could fully publish a book using this cash alone.
But in the back of my mind, my brain whirls. This job is dangerous, but not in the way Margaux thinks. James is more than some middle-aged rich dude with a receding hairline and a soft paunch. He’s a charismatic, magnetic, and demanding man who pushes my buttons and touches me exactly where I need. He’s got a devilish sense of humor, and enough charm to knock out a rattlesnake. Thus, the real hazard lies with my heart because what happens after three months? If I’m already this obsessed with James Montlake, then things could easily go from bad to worse. Oh god, what do I do?
But calm, cold logic takes over, and I know that I shouldn’t let this opportunity slip past. Not when the money is so significant. I’ll just have to restrain my emotions, even as James plays games with my heart and body.
“Simona?” Margaux’s voice is tinny as I jerk back to the present. “So what do you say? Any thoughts?”
I take a deep breath, and then nod. “I’ll do it.”
My manager nods with a satisfied smile, revealing teeth that seem too white.
“Excellent. I’ll work out the details with Mr. Montlake’s assistant, and then we’ll circle back to you. Does that sound like a plan?”
I nod again, still filled with hesitation, but then quash my doubts. This is the opportunity of a lifetime and I need to make the most of it.
“Okay, sure,” comes my reply.
“You’ll have a good time,” Margaux assures me. “Just think of it as a working vacation. After all, Mr. Montlake has indicated that he expects you to live in his penthouse with him, which I understand has its own dunk pool and its own personal gym,” she says. Then, she leans forward and whispers into the camera, her eyes dancing with excitement. “Also, Mr. Montlake lives on Fifth Avenue,” she adds conspiratorially. “In one of the fanciest buildings in New York, Simona. You’re in for a fabulous time.”
I merely throw her a weak smile.
“Oh okay,” is my faint reply. “Thanks for telling me.”
We hang up, and immediately, I bury my face in my hands. Oh god, what have I done? I’m beyond excited to see the billionaire again, but at the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking into some kind of elaborate trap. Yes, there are happy endings in this line of work, but more often, there are terrible crash and burns. Am I going to be the former or the latter?
I shake my head. Strong heart, strong head, my internal voice chides. And my conscience is right. I have to keep my wits about me. I have to go in with my eyes wide open, aware of my own weaknesses and the danger that this man brings. No matter what happens, I have to keep my head screwed on straight and my priorities in order. After all, no paycheck is worth falling in love with the wrong man … except when that person is James Montlake, ruthless billionaire and charming devil rolled into one.
5
James
* * *
The doorbell to my penthouse rings, and I quickly check my appearance in the mirror like this is a first date. Good, the black strands are in place and my blue shirt is taut across my shoulders. Heart racing, I open the door and am immediately greeted by Simona’s curvy figure which makes my mouth go dry. She’s wearing tight, ripped jeans and a white blouse that shows off several tantalizing inches of cleavage. Her hair is up in a bun with a few curls wisping around her chin, and without thinking, I reach out to tuck a lock behind her ear. Holy cow, when did I become so romantic?