“Bane.” I walk away from the phone so I can put away the boxes of sugary cereal I splurged on.

“You’re not going to use the money, are you?” He sounds frustrated.

“No.” I’m being unreasonable about this. I should take some of the money. It would go a long way in helping me manage some of the debt I’ve gotten myself into, but the amount is excessive for five weeks of pet sitting, especially since it comes with a bedroom in a luxury condo and a meal plan.

Part of me is also reluctant to grow accustomed to having money again. The idea is actually somewhat terrifying. I’m also tired of handouts. Accepting them from a man I’d like to get naked with feels wrong.

“You know I’ll find a way to get it to you.”

“Not without my account number, you won’t.”

“And you don’t think I can get that?”

I turn around to face him again, propping a hand on my hip. Oooh. He looks annoyed. This must be the uptight side of him Armstrong was talking about. I think I might approve of it. “What are you? A professional hacker on the side?”

“I don’t know why you’re so intent on fighting me on this, but rest assured, I’ll find a way to make it happen.”

“Good luck with that.”

“You do realize you’re being difficult, babe.” He taps on the table, drawing my gaze to his restless fingers.

“I’m being reasonable. You’re trying to give me too much money for doing not enough.” I check the time. It’s already after one. I need to clean the microwave and get myself together so I can be at work on time. “I have to go. Work calls.”

I reach across to end the call.

“Wait!” Bancroft says.

“I really do have to go.”

“Are you angry with me?” he asks.

I sigh. I’m not angry with him at all. I’m embarrassed to be in such a predicament that the money he’s offering seems massive. It’s an important lesson to learn. To know what it’s like to struggle, and not just have things dropped in my palm because I hold it out.

“No. I’m not angry. Your generosity is overwhelming. It’s making you a ten-point-five, and it’s too much for me to handle.”

“Ten-point-five.” His serious expression grows even sexier with his smirk.

“You’re down to a ten again. Bye, Bancroft.”

“Bye, Ruby.”

I’m in the middle of scrubbing marshmallow out of the microwave when the phone rings again. The one attached to the answering machine. It’s Brittany. Again. Apparently she wants to make sure Bancroft hasn’t lost her number.

I erase the message. And the other one she left for him. I don’t even feel an ounce of guilt either.

* * *

Two days later I pop by the bank to make a deposit on my credit card and my line of credit thanks to my great tips. I discover my account is no longer hovering in the low hundreds any longer. Not even close.

As soon as I get home I video call Bancroft. “You lost six points,” I say by way of greeting.

“Six? What could I possibly have done to dig myself that kind of hole?”

“How did you even get my bank account information? Isn’t that fraud?”

“It’s only fraudulent if I try to take money out of the account, not if I put it in there.”

“That was sneaky.”

“I told you I’d get the money to you one way or another. I wasn’t lying or being sneaky. I was being totally upfront about it.”

I make an angry sound.

“You can’t be angry with me, Ruby.”

“Are you telling me how to feel?” Goddammit. I shouldn’t be so upset about this. It’s really not rational. It shouldn’t bother me this much that he wants to compensate me, beyond giving me a place to live, even if the amount is exorbitant.

“Please don’t be upset with me. I feel responsible for you losing out on that audition. I cost you months of potential income, Ruby. Let me do what I can to make up for giving you that horrible flu bug.”

“So this is guilt-induced?”

Bancroft sighs. “I feel like you’re baiting me and nothing I say is going to be right here. I just don’t want you to be angry with me for doing what I think is right.”

Suddenly I realize why the money thing is bothering me. Over these past weeks I’ve stopped looking at Bancroft as my pseudo-employer. I don’t think I ever really looked at him as my employer in the first place, if I’m honest with myself. Giving me a place to stay, food, and access to takeout was one thing, even the modest amount of money I could attribute to incidentals, but actual substantial payment for the pet sitting breaks the illusion that this is more. Or has the potential to be more. And it makes me feel kept, which makes me feel like the situation is no different than with my father. And I definitely don’t want this situation to feel anything like that.

“I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you. I just want to be able to do this on my own.”

“You are doing it on your own.”

I motion to my surroundings. “Last time I checked, this wasn’t my condo, unless you’ve decided to transfer ownership into my name.”

Bancroft gives me the eyebrow. “You know, it’s a damn good thing I’m not there right now.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re being difficult, and if I were there I’d be able to make you stop.”

I plant my fist on my hip. “Oh? You think so?”

“I know so.”

“And how exactly would you do that?” The way he’s looking at me sends a shiver down my spine.

He drags his tongue across his bottom lip, his smile is downright evil. “I don’t think I can answer that question honestly without putting the rest of my points at risk.”

* * *

On Thursday afternoon I get a call from Bancroft. I’m still half asleep from having been up so late. I didn’t get home until after three in the morning, which isn’t typical for a Wednesday, but the club was rented out for a big party. Tips were great. It took a long time to come down from the high of the evening so I’ve been out for less than six. I’m an eight-hour girl.

It’s a video call from Bancroft, which is terrible, since I’m sure I look like hell. I didn’t even bother to take off my makeup last night. I probably look like a well-used hooker right now.