Page 39 of Conning the Billionaire
Credit cards, all in the name of Micah Shine.
A California driver’s license listed his home address as San Francisco. That explained the California area code on his phone. “You live out on the Left Coast.”
“I got tired of shoveling my car out.”
Between Micah Shine’s tailored suit and the black American Express in his wallet, she just bet that he had never shoveled his own car out in his life.
One more important question. “You married?”
“Would you care if I were?”
“Yeah, I would. I would care a lot. It looked like you took off your wedding ring last weekend and put it in your pocket.”
He nodded. “You con cheaters, so I made myself look like a cheater. I didn’t have a ring.”
“But are you married?”
He shook his head. “If I were married, I wouldn’t cheat.”
Oh, he was a slippery one, he was. “That is not an answer to my direct question.”
“I’m not married,” he said.
Okay, but that didn’t mean she could trust him. He’d lied to her before. “How do I know you aren’t going to con somebody and leave me holding the bag?”
He nodded. “I’ll open a bank account with your name in it and put ten thousand dollars in there as a deposit.”
Kylie turned her back to him and looked out the BMW’s window over the row of parked cars. “That’s not anywhere nearly enough. I make that on most nights.”
She was exaggerating a lot, like several zeros, but this didn’t sound like a one-night job.
“Fine. A hundred thousand dollars in an offshore account that no one will be able to trace. Not the IRS, not anyone else who might be taking a cut.”
Kylie would still cut her girls in on the action, but not giving Salvatore Grande a chunk of her change meant it was worth a lot more to her.
She turned back. “For a hundred large, I’m listening.”
One side of the blond Italian’s mouth rose a little more, and his eyes narrowed while he was still smiling. “How about three hundred thousand, same arrangements, plus one more stipulation.”
Kylie tried to raise one eyebrow at him but only succeeded in wiggling her forehead. “And what would I have to do for the extra two hundred grand?”
“The job will take about a month, and I own your body for that month.”
Was it really being a prostitute if it was for two hundred thousand dollars? “You would own my body? Oh, I don’t think so, wise guy.”
His light gray eyes practically sparkled in the garage’s overhead fluorescent lights. “You would be mine to use as I want. To do anything I want to.”
“Your boss know you’re spending his petty cash like that?”
“It’s my money.”
“Yeah, and you said it was your hotel room. Six hundred thousand. No damage to my body, and I can nope out and go home at any time.”
“Four hundred,” he said. “Come on. Let’s see if I can scare you.”
So, yes, it was turning pro, and now they were haggling over price.
But with that kind of money, her life would change forever.
