"I am genuine."
He rolls his eyes. "I'm only agreeing to this because I love her, and I hate the way she's been these last few days."
"That's on me," I admit, more to myself than him.
"No shit. And I'm trusting you to fix her," he adds. "We had our first argument, and it was all because of you."
"I'm sorry. What can I do?"
"You rich people and acting like throwing money around will instantly fix everything," he mutters, pouring himself another glass.
"I wasn't even talking about—"
He doesn't let me defend myself. Cutting me short, he says, "Thirty grand."
I blink. "What?"
He exhales loudly. "I know you're not that dumb, Mr. Hotshot. I wasn't planning to talk to her until she came to me first, asking for forgiveness. But now I've got to swallow my pride and go to her instead, even if she wronged me. Thirty grand makes that a little easier."
I stare at him. He stares right back, raising a challenging brow.
"You in or not?"
I mutter some curses under my breath before responding. "I
