Chapter Six: The Proposition
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he moved around her small living room.
Taking in the details of her life with those penetrating eyes.
He stopped at the small bookshelf that held her few remaining possessions.
Some well-worn paperbacks.
A framed photo of her holding Lily the day she was born.
A cheap ceramic figurine of a dancer that had been her mother’s.
“Where is her father?”
He asked instead of answering her question.
The abrupt change of subject took her by surprise.
“Gone. He left when I told him I was pregnant.”
“His name.”
She hesitated.
“Why does that matter?”
His eyes flicked to hers.
The intensity in them made her shrink back against the cushions.
“His name, Harper.”
“Eric Lombard.”
She whispered.
The name bitter on her tongue.
“But he doesn’t matter. He made his choice.”
A strange expression crossed Russo’s face at the mention of Eric’s name.
A tightening around his eyes.
A slight tension in his jaw.
Then it was gone.
Replaced by the same inscrutable mask.
Before he could ask another question, there was a knock at the door.
Russo moved to answer it with the silent grace of a predator.
A man Harper hadn’t seen before stood in the hallway, holding several bags.
“The supplies you requested, sir.”
Russo took the bags and closed the door without a word of acknowledgment.
He brought them to the kitchen counter and began unpacking.
Bottles of Pedialyte.
Children’s medicine.
Several containers of what looked like homemade soup.
Fresh fruit.
Bread.
Other groceries.
“Your kitchen is now stocked.”
He said, turning back to her.
“There’s enough for several days. The medicine for your daughter is there with instructions.”
“I can’t accept all this.”
She protested weakly.
Even as her stomach clenched with hunger at the sight of the food.
“I can’t pay you back.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
He approached the couch again.
Looming over her.
“But we do need to talk about your situation.”
Her heart rate accelerated.
Here it was.
The price for his help.
There was always a price.
She’d learned that lesson well enough from life.
“What do you want?”
She asked, her voice barely audible.
“Not what you’re thinking.”
His tone was cold.
Almost offended.
“I’m not that kind of man.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him.
Men like Alessio Russo.
Powerful.
Wealthy.
Used to taking what they wanted.
They always wanted something.
He must have read the skepticism in her face.
His expression hardened.
“You need help, Harper. More than just food and medicine. You’re working yourself to death. And for what? To barely survive in this place? To watch your daughter grow up in poverty?”
His bluntness stung.
But she couldn’t deny the truth in his words.
“I’m doing my best.”
She said, hating how defensive she sounded.
“Not everyone has options.”
“I’m offering you one.”
He sat in the single armchair across from the couch.
Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
In the small space of her living room, he seemed even larger.
His presence filling every corner.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Her weariness must have shown on her face.
He continued quickly.
“A job. A legitimate position as a personal assistant at my home.”
“I don’t understand.”
She said slowly.
“You don’t know anything about me. My skills. My experience.”
“I know enough.”
He replied.
“I know you’re determined. Resourceful. Willing to work yourself into the ground for your daughter. Those are qualities I value.”
He paused.
“The position includes living quarters for you and Lily. Full benefits, including health insurance. And a salary that will be significantly better than what you’re making now.”
It sounded too good to be true.
Which meant it probably was.
“Why me? There must be hundreds of qualified people who would want that job.”
His eyes held hers.
“Let’s just say I have my reasons.”
A chill ran down her spine.
There was something he wasn’t telling her.
Something behind this inexplicable offer that she couldn’t see.
“What would my duties involve exactly?”
She asked cautiously.
“Managing my household schedule. Coordinating with my security team about visitors. Handling personal correspondence.”
He waved a hand dismissively.
“Nothing beyond your capabilities.”
“And that’s it? Just normal assistant duties?”
She couldn’t keep the suspicion from her voice.
His expression darkened.
“I told you. I’m not that kind of man. If that’s your concern, you can put it aside.”
