Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
He took a pull of his beer, and I pretended not to notice he was drinking at eight thirty in the morning. “So why don’t you wait it out?”
I smiled calmly. “That’s a very good question, Riggs. The answer is—because money doesn’t grow on trees.”
At this point, I was seriously considering doing the odd admin job and getting paid under the table just to resume the money flow. I was worried about paying my rent and all the bills without a steady income. There was only so much strain I could put on my savings.
“Take the day off,” he suggested unhelpfully.
“I can’t do that,” I said.
“Tag along with me.”
“I’m sorry, did you lose your hearing in the time between now and five minutes ago?” I frowned. “I can’t afford to take a day off, Riggs. I’m literally on the verge of shoeshining to keep my head above water.”
He looked bored with the conversation. How couldn’t he understand? Clearly, he was no stranger to hardship.
“Tell you what.” He spun the beer bottle’s cap on his index finger, like it was a basketball. “We’ll make a stop at that lawyer lady’s office and fill out our visa application.”
“All I can hear is more money for me to spend.”
“Would you stop talking about money?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Would you stop pretending it is not an issue for both of us?” I countered.
“I’ll pay you to spend the day with me!” he snapped. “Happy?”
I jerked back and laughed so hard my stomach hurt. “Thanks for the laugh. I needed that.” I stood up, carrying the plate to the sink. “And for the waffles too. They were marvelous. Shall I grab ramen for dinner? My treat.”
His gaze followed me. “I’m serious. I’ll pay you to spend the day with me. I need an assistant for my Discovery project.”
“Since when do you need an assistant?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Since today,” he said grumpily.
“You’ve never needed one before.”
“Don’t question my process.” He scowled.
Suppressing a smile, I asked, “All right. What does an assistant do for you?”
Please say “Suck me off,” I thought, followed by the harrowing question—Since when did I start talking like that? Even in my head?
Riggs rubbed his chin, mulling over the question. “Carry my equipment, help me set up the lighting, serve as a placeholder when I try out different lenses . . .” He frowned. “Polish my shoes, wipe my ass, stroke my co—”
“As much as this assistant would like to sue you for sexual harassment, I can do without the rest of this sentence,” I singsonged, rinsing the plate in the sink. “How much are you paying?”
Not that it mattered. I wasn’t in a position to negotiate. Minimum wage would be fine.
Riggs slung his elbows over the counter, his body angled toward mine. “What’s the rate for photography assistants these days?”
“I have no idea.” I laughed. “I just became one fifteen seconds ago.”
“Two grand? Flat rate for the entire date?” he suggested.
“Two grand?” I spluttered. “Riggs, how are you going to come up with that kind of money? You can’t even pay for the subwa—” I zipped it, perhaps a moment too late, seeing as he was now looking at me with an unidentified expression that made me want to swallow all my words back.
“It’s all about money for you, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.
“I mean . . . isn’t it to everyone?”
He shook his head, looking pensive.
“To answer your question, while I can’t afford it, the company can. Discovery pays for my photography aide. It’s a perk. So I’ll pay you and send the bill to them.”
That sounded so . . . odd. At the same time, for a reason I couldn’t quite fathom, I knew Riggs was going to come up with that money. He’d never let me down before and had always made good on his promises. Unlike BJ.
Speaking of the knobhead, I could use a distraction. Working with Riggs for the day would not only be good for my wallet but also my psyche. Besides, how bad could it be, working for the man I’d married to deceive the authorities and had had wild sex with just yesterday? What could possibly go wrong?
“What if the solicitor doesn’t have time for us today?” I asked, remembering we needed to send our application to the USCIS.
He laughed sardonically. “Do you know who I a—” Riggs stopped abruptly, clearing his throat. “She will. She’s a good friend of Christian’s.”
Did he just pull the Do-you-know-who-I-am routine? How peculiar. He was literally . . . well, I was going to say no one, but that wasn’t right. He was a lot for me.
“So where are we off to, partner?” I offered Riggs my pinkie.
“The most romantic place in the world.” He laced his pinkie in mine, swinging our arms together while taking another sip of his beer. “An abandoned prison.”