Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
I look down at my hands and nod.
Movement catches my eye, and I’m glad I stopped talking for a moment as the waiter swiftly moves beside us and sets down two plates of pasta.
He takes a huge parmesan grinder from his belt and offers it to us, stopping when each of us silently holds up a hand. I’m glad Hunter takes the lead on that one so I can copy him.
“Thanks,” I say, but the waiter is already gone.
I’m still getting used to this place.
“Dig in,” Hunter says, with a grin on his face. He takes a piece of pumpkin ravioli out of his bowl, bites into it, and makes a face which I interpret as meaning the food is very, very good.
A look that makes a rush of heat go down to my belly.
I pick up my fork and fork my first bite of tortellini, turning it over to examine it first, making sure it’s coated in the white sauce. I take a bite, and my eyes slide closed.
Rich, creamy sauce. Tang of salt. Vivid truffle oil. Mushrooms that taste as fresh as though they were pulled from the earth in order to make our dish right there in the kitchen.
Divine – completely.
I open my eyes and find Hunter watching me with an intense expression – so intense it actually makes me jump. I feel my cheeks heating bright red, and he hastily looks away, focusing on his own dish again.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat lightly. “If I have this right, you want me to follow your father and see who he is gambling with. You want to know if there is a way to find out who is threatening you. And then what.”
“Then I find a way to pay them,” I say, feeling despair sink into me once more as I remember that I still don’t have the second half of this plan, and I still don’t even know how much Hunter will cost me.
I just hope it doesn’t incorporate the price of this meal because – divine as it is – I can’t afford to hire someone who charges that kind of level for a business dinner, and what worries me is that he doesn’t know that yet.
This might all be about to come crashing down to the ground.
I take a deep breath.
“So, how much do you think it will cost if you do it?” I ask, my heart pounding as I wait for the answer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hunter
I ponder Jenna’s question carefully, knowing that my answer will have the potential to change our relationship.
I want to tell her that I won’t charge a thing. I’ll do it pro bono. I could spin some line about my own father being a gambling addict and taking pity on her.
It might help her accept my charity, but it wouldn’t be true, and I can’t start this thing off on a falsehood. She would believe it for the whole of our lives. That wouldn’t be right.
But without that kind of lie, I don’t think she’ll accept the fact that I would do it for free. She will have too many questions and won’t trust me. It’s a hard line to walk.
So, the only option I have is to slash my prices as much as I dare so that she thinks she can afford me but doesn’t realize just how good of a deal she is getting.
“I charge by the hour,” I say casually, wrapping ravioli around my fork as I speak. “I think we should start with a bulk booking of twenty hours. That’s four hundred dollars. If I still haven’t found anything by then, we’ll look into how long I think it will take. Of course, any evidence I do find, no matter what it leads to, will be yours.”
“Four hundred dollars,” Jenna says distantly, staring down at her plate.
That’s when I play the card I think will win her over. The one I kept in my pocket until now on purpose, to make her see that this is a great opportunity. The one that actually gets me far more value than dollars ever could.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I say, picking up my glass and taking a sip. “If I have someone to assist me, I can halve the workload. If you work by my side for those twenty hours and follow my instructions, then I’ll halve the price. Two hundred dollars.”
I see her mulling it over in her head.
Two hundred dollars. It’s less than a tenth of what I would normally charge, but she doesn’t need to know that. I don’t have prices listed on my website, so she doesn’t need to find out.
“Okay,” she says, and I can’t stop myself from grinning wide.
“Shake on it?” I ask, extending my hand over the table, above my food.
She reaches out and takes my hand with a firm handshake, and I feel that spark between us again.