She bowed politely to him: "Mr. Thomson, if there is nothing else, I'll leave now."
As she paused with her high heels at the door, he spoke from behind her: "How much are you making now?"
She hesitated slightly before answering: "A base salary of 5,000, with bonuses and commissions. Nearly 10,000 after taxes."
As a salesperson, she had accumulated some clients over the years, pulling in over 10,000 a month wasn't a problem. Supporting herself and Tommy, as well as paying rent and utilities was manageable, even if there wasn't much left over after that.
However, Tommy's illness...
She furrowed her brows, unable to hide the worry in her eyes.
"Ten times," he spoke from behind her, "ten times your current monthly salary to accompany me for a month."
Without thinking, she reached for the door handle.
"One hundred times," he spoke calmly from behind her, "clothing and jewelry will be provided separately, depending on how well you 'serve' me."
One month, one million.
She suddenly stopped, her fingers gripping the door handle but not turning it.
Knitting her eyebrows, her mind raced with calculations.
Tommy's illness couldn't be postponed any longer, the doctor said if she couldn't come up with 300,000 for a heart surgery within six months, there might be even greater dangers later.
Besides, even if the surgery was successful, the follow-up treatment costs would be astronomical for someone relying on their salary.
If it weren't for the urgent need for money, she wouldn't have taken this business deal from a client she knew was a little shady.
But it would mean being with him for a month...
She knew exactly what being a full-time assistant meant. Once she agreed, she would be labelled a "vase" - selling smiles, selling her body, selling her soul.
But did she have any other choice?
Moreover, that man was him.
Thinking about this, her tightly clenched hand gradually loosened: "Alright, I agree with you. But I have one condition."
He sat on the sofa, watching her stand in place, a look of determination in her eyes. It seemed that agreeing to his request didn't make her happy, but more like a female warrior about to go to the battlefield, walking on a thorny path.
He suddenly thought of "her." Was her expression the same when she agreed to his brother's request?
The same stubbornness, the same pride, the same mystery - making people want to understand, to dissect her heart and hide themselves in a corner of her soul.
Interesting, really interesting.
"Fine, speak," he thought she would demand something like "during this period, you cannot have other women."
Unexpectedly, she simply said-
"I require a down payment, thirty percent, in my account by tomorrow." Her gaze was calm, expression neutral, as if she wasn't talking about a transaction involving her body, but rather buying vegetables at the market.
Since she had agreed to the condition, there was no need for them – both adults – to be coy and pretend innocence, as if they were dealing with the affairs of a green tea actress.
If he hadn't held the wine glass steady, it would have spilled all over the floor!
He gaped in astonishment, the first woman to make such a demand! Did she think she was at a vegetable market, requiring a thirty percent deposit?!
He stood up, the dim light casting shadows on his tall figure, reflecting an alluring silhouette on the ground.