by Jade White
“So what exactly did you want to talk about?”
Nick winced internally. He had asked her to dinner more for an excuse to continue talking to her—to improve his acquaintance with her—than for any real business reason. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t proposition her, that he wouldn’t be the kind of creep that took advantage of his position to try and coerce a woman to sleep with him.
“You’re insightful,” Nick said quickly. “And the way that you jumped into the presentation—something that isn’t even within the purview of your job—was really great to see.”
“I appreciate that,” Cynthia said, smiling a little more easily. Nick could sense the apprehension in her beginning to slowly evaporate. “Was there something in particular that stood out for you?”
Nick racked his brain; he knew that there was something impressive about her presentation, but it was difficult to remember when he was so wrapped up in her charms.
“The conciseness of the information,” he told her. “You must have noticed that you were one of the only people in that room who actually presented relevant information.” Nick grinned at Cynthia.
“Full disclosure,” she said, holding her hands up with a little smile, “I zoned out for most of the presentations.”
Nick laughed. “I did a bit of that myself,” he admitted. “But I was able to pay attention to your entire presentation.” That was not entirely due to the fact that Cynthia had presented concise, intelligent, relevant information; it was also from her alluring aura.
Nick forced himself to focus, asking questions about Cynthia’s time with the company, about her responsibilities. He learned that she was coming up on her annual review, and made a mental note to himself to find out what her base pay was. An idea began to form in Nick’s mind: since he knew he was attracted to Cynthia, and he would have to conceive an heir through intercourse in order to pass on the were-tiger traits that he wanted any child of his to have, he could—potentially—ask her to be his surrogate.
Once the idea had formed, it grew in his mind. Whether or not Cynthia received a pay increase with her annual review, it was fairly easy for Nick to conclude that she was living paycheck to paycheck. He had discussed the matter of hiring a surrogate with his financial advisor. Leo had given Nick a range of expected costs associated with it. He could well afford to offer Cynthia more money than she could possibly need, in addition to stipends for living expenses and of course the best possible medical care. What he didn’t know—what he couldn’t find out, without prying a bit more than a business dinner would allow for—was whether she would be okay with carrying a child for a stranger; especially considering that he would have to have sex with her, possibly multiple times.
Nick turned the issue over and over in his mind, trying to decide the best way to tackle it. Now that the idea had occurred to him, he couldn’t quite tear his focus away from the thought of what it would be like to take Cynthia to bed. That isn’t what this is supposed to be about, he reminded himself firmly, more than once during the drive into the city. You’re not going to be paying her to have sex with you. You’re going to be paying her to carry your child. The fact that she’s tasty is just a bonus—it’s not the point in and of itself.
When they finally arrived at the restaurant, Nick excused himself to the restroom. He went and splashed cold water on his face over and over again, taking deep breaths to try and suppress the instincts welling up inside of him. He felt hot all over; the change, the magic in his genes that gave him two natures in a shared body thrummed and buzzed along his bones. If he was going to convince Cynthia to do him this service, he had to be in a fully human, completely businesslike frame of mind. She was exactly the kind of woman, he knew, who would catch on to a leering, horny fool in an instant—and he would destroy any chance of persuading her if she read his interest as anything more than practical convenience.
When he walked back out towards the table, Nick had himself under control. Cynthia sat patiently, looking over the menu, and he smiled to himself at the sight of her. One thing’s for sure: if she does have my baby, he or she is going to have to beat prospective mates off of them with a stick. Nick took the chair across the table from Cynthia, seating himself easily.
“Thank you for being so patient,” he said, smiling ruefully as he picked up his own menu and began to look over it.
“What was I going to do? Storm off and spend an hour on the bus trying to get home and skip a free meal?” Cynthia grinned at him, and Nick felt the tension in his gut begin to unravel a bit. Breathing in deeply, he scented her once more, there was no trace of the fear he’d smelled in her—she was completely at ease.
“Ah, your real motive comes out!” Nick mirrored Cynthia’s grin, leaning in towards her slightly.
“Hey, I can’t afford to be incredibly picky about accepting free meals from people. Especially when they might give me an edge on my career.”
“Totally mercenary, you are,” Nick said, smirking.
Cynthia blushed slightly, and he felt the heat stirring inside of him again. He wanted to see more of that blushing; he wanted to watch the warmth spread across Cynthia’s chest, the delicate pink-red flag of desire.
“I prefer to think I’m practical,” Cynthia told him tartly. “Not all of us grew up with more money than god.”
Nick saw his opening and took it, insisting that while his parents had been wealthy his entire life, he had definitely had sufficient humbling circumstances to teach him modesty. They ordered aperitifs when the waiter arrived, and Nick settled on the restaurant’s flagship dish—unsurprisingly, it was a feast of various pieces and preparations of lamb—while Cynthia opted for their secondary specialty of locally sourced seafood.
Biding his time, Nick let the ambiance, alcohol, and the food work their magic on Cynthia. He knew he had to work up to the offer he was going to make her—rushing matters would only make it harder to convince her. As she relaxed more and more, he began to ask about her education, about her life.
“I may have grown up with silver spoons,” Nick said, “but I can understand financial struggles.”
“Sure you can,” Cynthia said, rolling her eyes slightly. “I’m sure you’ve had to take the bus because you can’t afford to get your car fixed—your one car—and you can’t afford a new one, either.” She shook her head.
“Hey! My first year in college, my dad gave me an allowance of three hundred dollars a week,” Nick told her. “While that might seem like a lot if you’re having to work your way through college, it definitely meant that when my car was out of commission—back then I was only allowed to have the one car—I had to scrimp and save to get it fixed.”
“Did you take the bus?” Cynthia raised an eyebrow, looking at him intently over a forkful of delicate steamed trout.
“I did, actually. For about a week. I’d used up my allowance on a party the week before and then my car’s fuel pump went out.”
“Okay then,” Cynthia said, putting her fork down as she swallowed the last of the food on her plate. “I will take back my cynicism that you could know anything about what I’m going through right now.”
“I need to ask you some personal questions,” Nick said, setting his own plate aside. He took a sip from his glass of wine, preparing himself mentally. They were coming to the end of the meal—and Cynthia was as relaxed as she would ever be.
“Oh god,” Cynthia said, sitting back slightly in her chair. “The real cost of this meal has reared its ugly head. Go on.”
“If you don’t want to answer, I understand—but please don’t jump to any conclusions as to the reason I’m asking until I get to the end, okay?” Cynthia looked at him intently for a moment and Nick could see her weighing her options carefully.
“Okay,” she said finally. “I will keep an open mind.”
“First of all, are you seeing someone right now?” Cynthia’s eyes widened, and Nick could see in the bright green gleam that she had already concluded what his intere
st was, the next instant, however, the surprise evaporated, and her face slowly relaxed.
“I’m not,” she admitted. “Partly because of the hours at work, and partly because I’m too poor to go out, things like that.” Nick nodded. “Are you seeing someone?”
“No,” he said. “I’ve dated casually, but I haven’t found anyone I want to be with long-term.” Nick waited for the waiter to take their plates away, replacing them with sorbet to clear their palates. “Next question: have you ever considered having children?” Again that leap of suspicion in her eyes—and the quick suppression.
“I’ve thought about it,” Cynthia said, and Nick once more saw the delicate pink-red blush spread across her cheeks. “But, you know, without a steady relationship, I didn’t feel like it was really… likely.” Nick tried to keep his gaze from wandering over Cynthia’s lush curves. How could she be single? Nick pushed the thought aside.
“Are you generally healthy, with a normal cycle?”
Cynthia’s blush deepened, and Nick saw her swallow uncertainly, smiling with faint embarrassment. “As best as I know,” she said hesitantly. They finished their sorbet in a few bites. Nick needed a moment to gather his courage before asking what he wanted of Cynthia.
“Here’s the thing,” he said after the waiter had cleared their bowls and brought them the cheese course. “I understand you’re in kind of dire financial straits. I want to propose something that could really—it would be a huge advantage to you.”
“I swear to god, if you say you’ll get me a raise if I sleep with you…”
Nick shook his head. “Not—not exactly,” he said, smiling nervously. “My father passed away recently; you probably already knew that. And you know that I’ve inherited his businesses and the majority of his wealth. What you don’t know—what only a few people in the whole world know—is that he may have been murdered.”
“Murdered?” Cynthia’s eyes widened in surprise. Nick nodded slowly.
“That’s privileged information,” he told her. “We’re not even sure that it’s murder—it just seems very suspicious, the way he died. It’s being investigated.” Nick took a deep breath before continuing. “The larger issue is that this has made me interested in having a child of my own, someone to inherit the family wealth in case I’m the next person on the murderer’s list.”
“So—so you’re asking me? Why?”
“You’re smart,” Nick said, inclining his head towards her. “Obviously, you’re also beautiful. You can’t have missed that fact.” Nick felt a flicker of satisfaction when Cynthia blushed again. “You’re also obviously a hard worker.”
“You can stop now,” Cynthia said, looking down at the cheese on her plate. Nick watched her gather her composure slowly. “So we would—you would want me to carry your child? What… what would the benefit be to me?”
“I would pay you,” Nick explained. “I already discussed details of a prospective surrogate with my financial advisor.”
“What kind of payment are we talking about?”
Nick smiled slowly. “As a lowball estimate,” he said, taking a sip of water, “I could offer fifty thousand per month until you conceive, going up to seventy-five thousand per month during the pregnancy. When you deliver, I would pay you a final bonus lump sum of five hundred thousand.”
Cynthia stared at him in shock for a long moment, and Nick busied himself with the cheese on his plate, giving her some time to absorb his offer. “Fifty… fifty thousand per month?”
Nick nodded. “That’s the lowest I would go,” he said with a shrug. “I could possibly start off at seventy-five and bump up to a hundred thousand per month while you’re pregnant.”
“No—no, fifty thousand per month is… is definitely very, very generous.”
Nick watched Cynthia intently, resisting the urge to grin. “That wouldn’t include your cost of living,” he said casually. “I would, of course, pay for medical care, for rent—in fact, if you wanted to move somewhere more convenient, I would be happy to help you with that—and a stipend for food.”
“So—let me get this straight,” Cynthia said, beginning to frown. “You’re going to pay me fifty thousand a month just—just as payment? With everything else in my life pretty much taken care of?”
“Well, I won’t pay separately for a vacation to Cancun,” Nick said jokingly.
“That’s…” Cynthia shook her head, taking a sip of her wine. “That’s kind of amazing—and kind of insane.”
“Well, the estimate I talked over with my financial guy was in that range.” Nick shrugged again. “I’ve already done the planning for it.”
“I guess—I guess you’d want me to do artificial insemination?” Cynthia drank down more of her wine quickly. “I don’t know how I feel about hormones.”
“Actually,” Nick said—and he felt his own cheeks heating up. “I would need you to conceive naturally.”
“What do you mean by that?” Cynthia’s cheeks went bright pink.
“I would need to have sex with you.”
Her face reddened, and Nick scented the unmistakable edge of anger in her pheromones. “You’re seriously—you—oh, god.” She shook her head, pressing her lips together. “You’re pulling this whole thing just to get me to have sex with you for money?”
“No,” Nick said firmly. “This isn’t about sex. This is about having a baby. It’s just…” his mind hit on something that would not only be partially true, but also a better reason than the one he couldn’t give her. “There are provisions in my father’s existing will that provide for his estate to go to a naturally-conceived heir,” he explained. “If something happens to me before the baby is born, my child would be able to inherit under my father’s will as well as my own.” Cynthia’s gaze stayed on him, and Nick could tell she was trying to evaluate what he’d said, decide if it was believable. “You would get the same amount of money no matter how many times we had sex—it’s not about the sex, it’s about having a baby.”
After a long silence, Cynthia spoke. “Okay,” she said, taking a slow breath. “As long as you promise me that there’s not going to be any kind of—nothing creepy about this. It’s strictly sex for the purposes of getting pregnant, right?”
Nick nodded. “We can start tonight if you want,” he told her with a faint smile. “I would pay you at the end of the week—totally unconnected to the sex. It will be the first monthly payment.”
“Shouldn’t there be some kind of contract?”
“I have a draft of a contract—written by my lawyer—in the car,” Nick said. “I hadn’t entirely decided on it when I came here to do my inspection of the company, but it’s sound. I’ll let you look over it, and if the terms seem fair, we can get started right away.”
Cynthia hesitated a moment. “We can get started after dessert, right?”
Nick grinned. “Absolutely.”
Chapter Three
Cynthia felt more nervous than she could ever recall being in her life. She couldn’t quite believe that she had actually agreed to Nicholas Trocaire’s proposal. Part of her mind had insisted that it was just a scheme to convince her to sleep with him—that she should feel cheap, angry, insulted that he wanted to pay her off, that he’d offered such a flimsy excuse for getting her to have sex with him.
But when he had shown her the contract in the back of the car, Cynthia had to admit to herself that it seemed perfectly legal—and completely legitimate. Whoever had drafted the contract had left blank spaces for payment details. Nicholas had helpfully written in the sums he had promised, along with the method of payment: a monthly bank transfer to her account. They had both signed off on the details, and—hoping she wasn’t making a terrible mistake—Cynthia had signed at the end of the contract, agreeing not to disclose her business relationship with Nicholas, and to fulfill her obligations as his surrogate. This has got to be the least sexy foreplay in the history of sex, she had thought as the driver notarized the document.
They arrived at
a huge, imposing building; even at night the glass and steel of it gleamed and glittered, and irrelevantly, Cynthia wondered just how much time it took the window washers to clean it all every week.
“Are you okay?”
Cynthia turned her head to see Nick looking at her, watching her more intently than she would have guessed.
“Yeah,” she said quickly, smiling. “I just—I’ve never really been in this kind of situation before.” Nick brought his hand to rest on the small of her back and Cynthia felt an electric jolt course through her spine, tingling to the tips of her fingers and toes.
She had to admit that she had considered, when he’d invited her to get drinks and then dinner, that there was more to Nicholas’ offer than the desire to talk business with her. Cynthia was still more than a little uncertain about the fact that she was going to be paid so very much—and that part of her agreement with Nicholas involved regularly having sex with him. The contract had stipulated that they would meet three times a week while they were trying to conceive. Nicholas had suggested—though he had said in the car that he was not committed to the idea—that they should continue having sex throughout the pregnancy on a regular basis, since there were apparently benefits to the unborn child.
“I’m not going to jump your bones as soon as we get in the door,” Nick said, guiding her through the opulent lobby towards the elevators. “This isn’t my home—in the interests of full disclosure. It’s an apartment I stay in sometimes.”
“Okay, that kind of makes me feel a little hinky about this,” Cynthia admitted, stopping short of the elevator.
“My main home is in another city, a few hours away,” Nicholas told her. “We could drive there, but we wouldn’t even get in until almost midnight.” Cynthia hesitated only a moment longer before pressing the button the call the elevator. “That was why, by the way, I suggested that I could help you to move somewhere more convenient.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Cynthia said, feeling more than a little suspicious of the wealthy man.
