All sultry and super sexy midmorning interludes aside, she did actually need to do some work if she expected to get paid enough to keep up her rent. Whatever promises Alex had made about helping her further her career, that wasn’t going to get her rent paid on the first. There was a niggling part of her brain that reminded her that the man had just dropped—she was going to be conservative and guess $500—on an outfit because he ripped the zipper of her jeans loose. If she told him that working on his research and performing for him to release his own stress, she was pretty confident that her rent would miraculously end up paid. Probably for a few months, too, because it was easier to write the check for a round number, or some other crazy billionaire logic. She didn’t doubt his willingness, and she didn’t think he’d expect her to be obligated because he helped her. But it still went against the grain to let him help her in a more tangible way. It already made her twist up in knots that he was willing to even introduce her to the right people to get a more permanent journalistic position.
