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P.S. You're Intolerable (The Harder They Fall, #3)(49)

Author:Julia Wolf

Her brow puckered in confusion. “Why in the hell did you hire me if you knew?”

“Your other references were legitimate and glowing. I needed an assistant, and you were the best candidate, despite the fudging on your résumé.”

“That…doesn’t seem like you, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

It wasn’t like me. She had no earthly idea how unlike me it was, and it was better that way.

I cupped her shoulders. “I’m not pleased you accepted less than you should have, Catherine. You should have come to me about your salary.”

“I was scared, Elliot.”

“I understand that, and I’m going to make it right for you immediately. But I need you to know your worth. Don’t you understand how valuable you are to me?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m only an assistant.”

“No. I’ve had a lot of assistants. None have lasted longer than six months. They either quit or I fire them, and the reasons are numerous. But you have become my teammate, and I refuse to lose you. You’ll be paid what you’re worth, which should always be nonnegotiable.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. I may have stunned her silent, but at least she wasn’t crying anymore.

“Since we’re laying our cards on the table, what are your plans for the house?” I asked.

Her eyes darted to the side. “I want to sell it. I have to, but…”

“But you can’t afford the work it needs?”

“Right.”

“Would you live there if you could afford it?”

“Yes. I mean, the neighborhood is lovely, and it’s the perfect size for me and Joey, but it’s not going to happen. I have to sell it.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“What? No, that’s too much.” Color rose to her cheeks again, but I sensed this time it was more due to indignation than embarrassment.

I squeezed her biceps. “Real estate is my arena, as you know. I’ll have one of my realtors do the work.”

“I really can’t ask you to do more for me than you already have.”

“Good. You didn’t ask, so don’t worry about it anymore. It’ll be taken care of.”

She stared up at me for a long time, brown eyes darting between mine. “I’m too tired to argue with you about this, but this conversation isn’t over.”

“There’s nothing to argue about. I have resources at my disposal, and I’m choosing to use them to help my assistant so she can do her job without worrying about anything else.”

One brow popped. “So this is purely for selfish reasons.”

I inclined my chin. “Of course it is. Why else would I help you?”

Her laugh was hollow, but it was far better than tears. My mother would have never pulled herself together so quickly. A breakdown like this would have taken her days or even weeks to recover from.

Another reminder Catherine wasn’t Elaine.

The situation wasn’t the same.

The outcome would be far, far different.

Chapter Eighteen

Catherine

True to his word, Elliot took care of my salary the day after my living room breakdown, and I felt supremely stupid for not bringing it up months ago.

Not only did I receive a substantial increase in pay, but he’d deposited months’ worth of back pay he claimed I was owed. The number on my bank account was mind-bogglingly fat. Probably more than I was “owed,” but again, gift horse, mouth, wasn’t gonna happen.

To compound his generosity even further, he’d gotten me in with his mortgage broker within a week and helped me refinance as my cosigner. How he’d managed to do it so quickly, I’d never know. It was his special brand of Elliot Levy magic.

With the raise and lower mortgage payment came the realization I could afford a nanny for Joey. Once I had permission from Elliot to use his home, I set up interviews for the next week.

Other than brief conversations about mortgages, nannies, groceries, and Leafy-Daniel, along with notes every day, Elliot and I kept our distance.

I was mortified.

He was probably regretting the day we met—and especially inviting me to stay here.

I still couldn’t believe I’d sobbed all over him. His poor shirt had been soaked with my tears. At least I hadn’t leaked milk on him at the same time. I never would have recovered.

He hadn’t asked us to leave, though, so he couldn’t have been as mortified as I was. In fact, he reiterated in his daily notes that Joey and I were welcome to stay for as long as we liked.

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