Page 5 of Forbidden Billionaire (Titans #7)

“I need to get to work. I do have rooms that need to be cleaned.”

“Actually you don’t.”

“I…?” I blink. “What?”

He refills his cup. “I had a chat with Rafe Sterling this morning.”

As in the owner of the hotel?

Devastated, I sink against the wall. This is so much worse than him calling security. Why had I trusted him? I should know better.

“Cream and sugar?” he repeats, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and filling it. “In the future, you’ll be pouring for me.” He levels his gaze on me. “I recommend you take advantage of my offer.”

Wondering what the hell he’s up to now, I narrow my gaze.

“Just offering coffee while I outline my expectations, Seraphina.”

“Is Mr. Sterling going to fire me?”

“Not exactly.”

“So what, exactly?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

Of course it is. That’s been the story of my life since the day I first saw him.

“You’ll want your wits about you so you don’t come back and say I coerced you.”

What the hell is he wanting? Me to be his full-time maid or something?

Blackheart is probably right. My brain cells need to be firing on all cylinders to deal with him. “I like mine with mocha flavoring.”

He shrugs, then crosses to the refrigerator and pulls out a selection of creamers.

“Always prepared for overnight company, Blackheart?” Why the hell can’t I learn my lesson and just keep my mouth shut?

Instead of reacting, he lifts a container. “Mocha mint?”

I like that just fine, but I don’t say that. “I prefer plain mocha, if you have it.”

He looks again and nods.

After pulling out my favorite, he twists off the lid and removes the piece of foil, then splashes some in.

“More.” I add please silently in my head.

He pours again, and I nod, satisfied. I don’t think anyone has ever made me a coffee the way I like it. Why does he have to be the first?

He moves in closer and offers the cup. Since accepting means I might have to touch him, I remain where I am.

With a small nod, he sets it on the nearby island, keeping some much-needed distance between us.

“You need to repay the debt you owe me.”

“The debt I owe you?” The man is certifiably out of touch with reality. “You spanked me. And that was supposed to take care of things.”

“I’m not talking about yesterday.”

I blink. He’s referring to the incident three years ago?

“In that case, what about the debt you owe me? You had me blacklisted. You let the world call me a traitor. I lost everything—my career, my family—because of you.” The headlines are forever etched in my mind.

I glare at him, but his eyes are unreadable, and they pin me now, just as they did then.

He tilts his head, studying me like a puzzle. “My company nearly collapsed.” His tone is calm, but his eyes flash. “You need to make it right.”

My stomach twists, expecting another twisted “punishment.”

“Rafe is willing to let you go as an employee, effective today, as long as you’re agreeable.”

Frantically I shake my head. “I need this job.”

“I’m offering you something different. A more personal position.”

“You can take that idea and?—”

“As my assistant.”

My breath catches. I can’t keep up with his nonsense.

Unfazed by my reaction, he goes on. “You’d work in my downtown office, at a desk just outside my office, digging into analytics, untangling my company’s numbers. You saw things before. I need that skill to rebuild.”

My mind blanks. An actual job? Not torment, not control, but a job ?

My heart pounds, and I’m torn between shock and distrust. “Is this your idea of a joke?” It’s not funny to me.

It’s as if he’s dangling a lifeline that can save me.

“You blame me for your collapse.” My voice is flat.

“There are plenty of other people who can fill the role.” Rumor had it, he’d replaced me in less than five minutes of that board meeting ending.

“There are.” He shrugs. “Keep your friends close.”

And your enemies closer. I know where I stand.

“I don’t trust you, Seraphina. But I trust your mind. And I want it at my disposal.” He studies me carefully, and I hate how my pulse races. “Fifty thousand.”

“Fifty thousand?” God how I need the money. It’s a lot more than I’m making right now.

He lifts a shoulder easily, as if this isn’t my whole life we’re talking about. “To start. Benefits. Prove yourself, and you could get more responsibility.”

But he has to know his offer is an insult. “I made sixty as your intern. And that was before you torched my life.”

“And I’m taking a risk of you being disloyal.”

“Eighty.” What the hell am I thinking, bargaining with a demon? He has nothing to lose. And I have everything.

“Seventy.”

My knees go weak. That’s more than I dreamed of making ever again.

With that kind of income, I could pay my rent, fix my car, and end the grind of delivering mocha frappes to shitty tippers. But it’s him. And his offer is nothing more than a trap.

At one time, I used to dream of his nod in that boardroom, and I lived for his rare praise when I nailed a presentation. Now his voice, his proximity, stirs all my feminine responses, and that makes him more dangerous than he ever has been.

He takes a step closer to me, and his breath is warm on my cheek.

I should have accepted the cup so I’d have something between us.

“Do you really want to spend the rest of your life scrubbing floors?”

“Arrogant, much?” Once again, he’s managed to annoy the hell out of me. “There’s no shame in scrubbing floors. It’s an honest day’s work.”

Irritation flashes in his eyes. “Of course it is. But you’re exhausted enough to fall asleep in a stranger’s bed.”

As his intern, I’d been tired all the time too. He was a demanding boss.

“Final offer.”

The number in my bank account flashes in my mind. Through the windows, Houston’s skyline glints as downtown towers pierce the morning. The air is as heavy as my desperation.

“Take the job, Seraphina. Or walk away.” He shrugs, as if he doesn’t care that my entire life hangs in the balance. “Your choice.”