Page 7 of BillionHeir

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Chloe

I am either the stupidest fool alive, or the smartest.

Either way, I am a fool.

I groan under my breath, but dutifully do what I am told by my incredibly difficult new boss, turning on my heel and walking out of his room.

As soon as the door shuts behind me, I regret my decision.

Well, almost.

Five million dollars is a life changing amount of money.

The kind of money that would buy my mother any treatment she could ever need for the rest of her life.

The kind of money that could make all of her financial worries disappear, and mine as well.

The kind of money you absolutely do not say no to.

I am Maxwell Banks’ newest employee. I nearly groan out loud at the thought.

I might not like it very much, but it is only six weeks. Surely, I can put up with anything for six weeks.

* * *

“Watch where you are going!” Maxwell yells from the backseat of the luxury SUV that Ethan arranged for me to drive upstate.

I consider slamming on the breaks just to take the piss out of him but wisely choose not to. I want him to relax and hopefully sleep for the whole drive, not constantly berate me.

I tried to convince him to stay one more night at Sanctuary Springs, but Maxwell had a solution to every single concern I raised.

When I told him that I needed to go home to pack, he told me that he would pay to have an entirely new wardrobe and whatever else I need delivered to his house in Maine.

When I scoffed, he reminded me that he is a very rich man who can afford to spend as much money as he pleased, especially when it meant that he didn’t have to be inconvenienced.

When I told him that I needed a shower, he told me I could take a shower after we made it to his house and got him settled.

When I told him I didn’t have a car to drive us to Maine, he texted his assistant to bring us a car.

When I complained that I was hungry, he had the man run through a drive-thru on his way over.

He seems to have an answer for everything.

I am starting to think I may be the first person to ever tell this man no.

But it is looking like anything that Maxwell Banks wants, he gets.

It is a little intimidating, if I am honest. But I refuse to let him treat me like some slave who is here to be at his beck and call.

I am his nurse, and I will be treated as such.

“Why don’t you sit back and relax,” I say with as much patience as I have right now.

I have never met someone who was so handsome and yet tested my composure quite as much as the formidable Maxwell Banks.

“You have been sprung from your personal hellhole. Now you need to rest. Goodness knows you weren’t getting any in that place with all the ranting and raving you were doing. ”

Maxwell grunts but doesn’t say anything else. Probably because he knows I am right.

I don’t really know why he was so uncomfortable at the rehab.

Most of our patients love it there. Some even swear that they rest more with us than they do in their own homes.

We rarely have someone come in who doesn’t appreciate the luxurious atmosphere and the great expense taken to make sure that they recover as soon as possible.

But as with most things, I am quickly learning, Maxwell is the exception to the rule.

From the moment he stepped into the place, he was ready to leave.

Maybe even before that if I had to guess.

He didn’t even take a second to appreciate the opulence and top tier care that our facility had to offer.

It really is the best in the state, and maybe all of New England. The staff there is simply incredible.

I think that is why I finally said yes. I was fully prepared to hold out. I thought there was no amount of money that could convince me to work for him. But the desolation in his eyes, the absolute misery and distress, finally tipped me over the edge.

Well, that and the fact that I never expected to be offered five million dollars for six weeks of work. I mean, I am a nurse, not a celebrity for goodness’ sake.

I am still curious as to why he was willing to go to any length possible to leave Sanctuary Springs. The place is many things, but unpleasant it is most certainly not. They go to great lengths to make sure that every patient has the best experience possible.

What could have been so bad that Maxwell couldn’t stand to stay there a moment longer?

I peer into the rearview mirror to find him reclined as far as possible in the captain’s chair he is sitting in.

The sling on his left arm prevents him from leaning in that direction, making him look incredibly uncomfortable as he shifts his weight in a struggle to find the right position.

His brow is furrowed and his eyes are closed in a grimace.

I know they gave him pain medicine before we left, but with checkout taking as long as it does, that was probably a few hours ago at this point.

A few seconds later he groans as we go over a slight bump in the road.

“Do you want to do something to take your mind off of the pain?” I ask.

“I am in the back seat of an SUV that is stuck in Boston traffic. What do you propose I do, exactly?”

“You don’t have to be so snarky. You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“I suppose,” he says, the annoyance in his voice bouncing around the car.

“Since you are lying down, I supposed the license plate game or ‘I Spy’ is out.” I try to remember the hours of games that Jenna used to make me play with her anytime we were in the car for longer than an hour.

“How about Twenty-One Questions?” Maxwell asks, sounding a little more perky. I check on him in the rearview mirror and see that he has inclined his seat a little, and he is watching me. “We ask each other questions one at a time, and you have to answer truthfully.”

“I suppose,” I answer cautiously. This feels suspiciously like a trap for someone who is as introverted as I am, but since I am the one who suggested we play something, I feel obligated to go with it. “You can go first. ”

“Let’s start with something easy. Why did you leave the UK?”

“I have always been a bit weirdly obsessed with America,” I explain. “When it came time to choose a uni, I saw an opportunity and took it.”

“What is there to obsess over?” he mutters mostly to himself. “We are all just a bunch of self-centered assholes.”

“You sound rather cynical, Mr. Banks.”

He ignores my comment and continues. “Why didn’t you go back when you got your degree?”

“Because I can earn a higher wage. And I love it here,” I say before realizing what he just did. “Hey, that was two questions. No fair!”

“So it was,” he says. “You will have to learn to be quick on your feet if you are going to work for me. Go ahead.”

“How many houses do you own?” I ask, starting with something a little easier.

“Four. My summer house in Maine, my penthouse in Beacon Hill, a beach house in Malibu, and another penthouse in Miami.”

“I am sensing a water theme.”

“It soothes me,” he offers before throwing another question at me. “Are your parents still together?”

“Never really were, if I’m honest. It has always just been me and my mum. What about you?”

“My parents had been together for twenty-five years when they died in a tragic plane crash. ”

“I am sorry. That is horrible,” I say as I look in the rearview mirror again.

Our eyes connect for a brief moment before I break away to look back at the road.

“It is okay. It has been nearly twenty years now.”

“You must miss them.”

“Every day,” he says before clearing his throat. “Why nursing?”

The sudden change in topic from family to work isn’t lost on me, but I don’t mention it. “I have always been a caregiver. From my dolls as a toddler, to my drunk friends in secondary school and uni, I love taking care of people.”

“If your mom is in England, and your best friend moved to Wyoming, who takes care of you?” he asks far too perceptively for a casual car game.

This time I don’t have the courage to look in the mirror. My eyes water slightly as I am reminded that apart from a few dear coworkers, I am basically all alone.

If I am honest, there really isn’t anyone who takes care of me.

When Jenna was here, we sort of took care of each other, but she has been gone for over a year now, and I don’t really have anyone who has stepped into that role.

It has been so long since I have let someone do anything for me.

Maybe when this job is over, I will have more time to spend finding the person who will take care of me .

“Oh no you don’t,” I say, trying not to let on how close to home his question hit. “It is my turn again.”

I hear Maxwell shift his weight in his seat in an effort to get comfortable. With his injuries, I am sure that comfort is elusive even in a vehicle as lush as this one. I contemplate a question that can distract him from his suffering.

“What is your favorite color?” I ask, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of asking one of the wealthiest men in the country something so trivial.

“Really?” he asks, noting the ridiculousness of my question.

It seems my little tactic worked.

“Really,” I answer, smiling to myself.

“Blue, I think,” he says, sounding like he is really considering my question. “I always look my best in shades of blue.”

I tuck that little morsel of information away as I await his next question.

“Do you think Jackson and Jenna will make it?”

“That is an interesting question,” I comment as I think my answer through. “I have thought about this quite a lot, if I’m honest. I hate that he stole her away from me, but for maybe the first time in her life, she has found someone who makes her happy. And I so desperately want her to be happy.”

“That didn’t answer the question,” Maxwell says, ever the astute observer .

“I suppose you are right. My official answer is yes. I do think they will make it because what they have is real. They really do love each other, despite their early communication issues.”

“I think so, too,” Maxwell says after a few seconds of silence.

“Are you in a relationship?” I ask next.

“No,” he huffs out cynically. “I don’t have time for relationships.”

“Aw, come on, now. That can’t be true. You have friends, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. But a girlfriend expects more from me than Tristan and Liam. I just don’t have the energy to date after working all day.”

“I don’t blame you, actually. I feel the exact same way.”

“Something in common?” he asks with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Surely not.”

I giggle quietly as I wait for him to ask me another question.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

A shock of surprise runs down my back. I wasn’t expecting that sort of question.

“I don’t know, really. I suppose I just hope that I have found someone to settle down with that genuinely loves and respects me. I assume I will still be nursing, though I wouldn’t hate taking some time off to take care of my babies. If he wants them, of course. ”

I try to picture being in a happy committed relationship, one where the thought or presence of children isn’t unwelcome, where my partner cares about me and my wellbeing. It shouldn’t be so difficult, but after the luck I have had with men, it feels like a fantasy.

“What about you?” I ask, peeking at him in the rearview mirror again. Only this time, I find him with his eyes closed and a peaceful look on his face.

He is fast asleep. I guess my little game worked.

But I can’t help the feeling of disappointment when I don’t get to hear his answer.