The Offer

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks for every can you finish, Amelia,” Aidan said, casual like he was betting on a coin toss.

Millie stared at the beer can in her hand, tilting it just to watch the bubbles fizz. This guy was throwing around a hundred bucks a can like it was pocket change. She was on her fifth, and the buzz was hitting, but it didn’t make this whole situation feel any less absurd.

“This is ridiculous,” she mumbled, half to herself, taking another sip. The beer was good, sure, but not that good.

Aidan, sprawled on his fancy couch, raised his glass of some amber liquor. “I told you, a hundred bucks a can,” he said, smirking. “You’re five deep. That’s five hundred bucks. And you’re still stressing about your next cleaning appointment?”

He wasn’t even flexing, not really—just tossing out numbers like they didn’t mean anything. It pissed her off, but she was too tired to call him on it. Besides, the cash was why she was here, wasn’t it? Sitting in this stupidly nice place, drinking his overpriced beer, instead of scrubbing someone's floors.

She met his gaze, her jaw tight. He leaned forward, his eyes sharp, like he was trying to figure her out.

“So…” he said, dragging out the word, a glint of mischief in his voice. “You don’t exactly seem like the typical cleaning lady.”

There it was—that patronizing tone, wrapped in a compliment. Like she was too interesting, too something, to be stuck doing what she did. As if her job was some kind of costume she was wearing wrong.

Millie’s fingers tightened around the can. He didn’t know her—not the overdue bills piling up, the late-night fights with her mom itching to shove her out, or the endless applications going nowhere. He didn’t see the exhaustion, the pressure, or the constant edge she lived on. And she wasn’t about to unpack any of that for some rich guy who thought tossing around beer and big tips made him different from the rest of his entitled circle.

She shot him a look. “Guess looks can be deceiving. You don’t exactly strike me as someone who’s ever touched a mop.”

Aidan grinned, unfazed, swirling his fancy liquor. “Tried cleaning a sink once in college. Flooded the place. Total disaster.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, sounds about right. Leave the dirty work to us little people.”

“So, you’re admitting you’re one of the little people? And you’re okay with that?” His smirk was back, all smug and teasing.

She leaned forward, matching his energy. “Three hours ago, I thought you were just a jerk.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in too, like he was actually curious. “And now?”

“Now?” She took a slow sip of her beer, letting the pause hang. “Now I’m sure you’re an arrogant jerk. With way too much cash to burn. It’s ridiculous.”

He laughed, clutching his chest like she’d wounded him. “Harsh, but fair.” That grin didn’t budge. “Come on, though, I’m growing on you, right?”

“Like a bad rash,” she fired back, but the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her.

Aidan raised his glass, still chuckling. “To rashes, then.”

She shook her head, watching him sip his drink. He was insufferable, but there was something about him—charming in a way that got under her skin. It pissed her off how easy it was to talk to him, like he wasn’t some rich guy who’d never worried about an empty tank in his life.

“So,” she said, setting her can down with a soft clink, “what do you actually do? Besides sit around on a pile of money your parents or grandparents probably earned for you?”

“That’s a bold assumption,” he said, smiling like it didn’t sting. “But you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide.” He leaned back in his chair, glass dangling from his fingers, that maddening glint in his eyes making another appearance. “Now the real question is—do you want the boring truth, or the version that might make you nervous?”

Millie’s stomach flipped, but she kept her face neutral. “Doesn’t matter,” she said.

Aidan leaned back on the couch, all casual confidence, like he had nowhere to be and nothing to prove. His blue eyes caught the light, sharp and piercing, and for a second, Millie felt seen—really seen, not just some cleaning lady blending into the background. It stirred something in her gut, a warm twist she blamed on the beer, though she wasn’t entirely sure.

“So the boring part,” he said, stretching the words like he was bored just thinking about it. He took a slow sip of his drink and then continued. “Endless paperwork, pointless meetings with people I’ll probably forget—or eventually cut loose—and a mountain of family crap I’m supposed to act like I care about.”

“And the spicier part?” he went on, his voice dropped just enough to make her lean in. “Let’s just say there are names I can’t mention, places I can’t show my face, and nights I’m better off forgetting.”

Millie rolled her eyes to cover the shiver creeping up her spine. “What, you’re in some secret club? Running underground fight rings or something?”

Aidan’s laugh was quiet, almost intimate, like they were sharing a secret. “Not quite. But… not entirely off, either.”

There it was again—that glint in his eyes, like he was playing a game she didn’t know the rules to. He raised his glass, toasting her like she was a challenge he was excited to take on, or maybe just something new to mess with.

“But I’m betting you don’t scare easy, Amelia,” he said, her name rolling off his tongue like a test, soft but daring. “Or am I wrong?”

Millie felt that spark in her chest. Aidan’s gaze had a way of cutting through her, seeing too much, and the worst part was she seemed to like it. Although it threw her off, it made her feel unsteady in a way she wasn’t used to.

“You’d be surprised,” she said, her voice wobbling just enough to betray her. She wasn’t sure if she was lying or not.

Aidan stood up, all easy confidence. “Another beer?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question. His tone said he already knew she’d stay. “Then, maybe later, let’s see what kind of trouble we can stir up?”

That was Millie’s moment to bolt. Grab her bag, mutter some excuse, and get the hell out. But she didn’t move. She just sat there. And her mom’s voice nagged at her—don’t be stupid, you can’t afford to mess this up—and the threat of sleeping in her car felt way too real. Five hundred bucks was already hers. Two more beers would make it seven hundred. That was gas, groceries, maybe a week of not stressing about bills.

Be practical, Millie. You can do this, she told herself.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t just that. When was the last time someone paid her to just be there, to sit and talk like she mattered? Aidan’s world, with his fancy penthouse and bottomless wallet, was a far cry from her reality, and for a second, she wanted to stay in it.

She nodded, her better judgment slipping. He saw it, of course—his eyes caught everything.

“Good girl,” Aidan said, his stride easy, confident, like a man who never had to chase anything—because it always came to him. He grabbed a can, cracked it open, then looked back over his shoulder, lips tugging into a slow, crooked smile.

“Now,” he said, voice low and smooth, “why don’t you and I get to know each other a little deeper this time, Amelia?”