Hannah's Choice

“I’m no man’s play toy.” Hannah finished the last of her latte, standing to go.

The headhunter, Zach, grabbed her wrist and she frowned at him. “Listen to me—you’ll regret it.”

She shook loose, slinging her purse over her shoulder and picking up her empty latte cup. “Not interested. I don’t make coffee, I order it.”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year,” he said in a low voice as she walked by.

She stopped, turning, and put her trembling cup back on the table. “Don’t fuck with me.”

Zach shrugged. “He has more money than God.”

“He pays a quarter mil a year?” Hannah sat back down in her chair. She felt like if she didn’t she was going to fall over. “What do his employees have to do? Give him daily blowjobs?”

He didn’t respond from behind his coffee cup, but his eyes met hers over the rim and she suddenly felt cold.

“He’s eccentric,” Zach said, glancing toward the door and then at his watch. “You’ll be one in about two hundred with a shot at the job.”

She contemplated him for a moment, imagining the possibilities. For a quarter of a million dollars a year, she suddenly didn’t care what she might have to do.

“What’s the number?”