Page 50 of The Surrogate Nanny
“Oh, it’s gonna be so sweet,” Jonathan chuckled.
“I don’t have to pay taxes and all that bullshit because it’s personal injury compensation, but what are you looking to score?”
“Language,” Simone corrected.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized promptly.
“Sixty million.”
“Leaving me $90,000,000.00 to net. I like it. Tell them we have a deal.”
“Wonderful. I’ll get on that. I’ll be on my way. Simone, do you mind walking me out?”
My eyes met Simone’s surprised expression.
“Sure.”
“Take care, Jonathan,” I wished him.
“You too.”
I waited until they were a safe distance away before gossiping with Nori. “I bet your entire college fund that he’ll ask her out again.” Nori wagged her spoon at me. “You disagree? You’re on.” Simone returned a few minutes later with a guilty expression. “Is everything okay?”
She sighed. “I feel bad. Jonathan asked me again to reschedule, but I turned him down.”
I bit back my laughter when Nori rolled her eyes at me.
One point, Daddy; zilch, Nori.
Chapter Twenty
Simone
“What is this for?” I asked as I stared at the shiny high-limit credit card.
Scratch that. I bet it doesn’t even have a limit.
“Shopping? You wanted to shop for our vacation. Get whatever you want.”
“If you wanted to blow through your settlement, then just say that.” Anthony chuckled as he packed his gym bag for physical therapy. “You need another water bottle,” I insisted, retrieving another from the refrigerator. “I should probably make you a snack, too. You didn’t take your multivitamin this morning,” I mumbled, reaching for the cabinet where the first aid kit, vitamins, melatonin gummies, and pain relievers were kept.
I turned around and bumped into him. “I’m—”
His body pinned mine against the counter as his lips gently caressed mine. He tugged my bottom lip with a playful nip. I was so wrapped up in the heated exchange that I hadn’t noticed when Anthony reached above me for the vitamins. He pulled away and popped one in his mouth.
“Satisfied?” he asked, walking away and giving me space I hadn’t asked for.
Not really. I’ll spend the rest of my day thinking about getting fucked against the refrigerator, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Are you sure I should be using your credit card? The stores around here are high-end, and I don’t want anyone to give me crap when they see that I’m not Anthony Powell.”
“They shouldn’t. Do you know how many wives shop with their husbands’ credit cards?” I raised my ringless finger to him. “Is that a hint? You want a ring, Simone?”
I scoffed. “You’re impossible, Anthony. I can’t tell if you’re joking, but I’m trying to say that I’m not a wife, and I’m definitely not like the wives here.”
“You worry too much,” Anthony chastised as he removed Nori’s bib.
“You don’t worry enough,” I mumbled under my breath.