High Paying Bounty for My Secret Husband’s One Night Stand? I Queted Chapter 08

High Paying Bounty for My Secret Husband’s One Night Stand? I Queted Chapter 08

The chat went dead silent.

A full minute passed. No one spoke.

Then the messages exploded.

[Holy crap! You’re the one who sold the info?]

[You got in? How?]

[Oh my god, that shirt! I saw it in the airport photo!]

Jessica sent a voice memo, her scream piercing. “Who the hell are you? Are you the

interpreter vixen?”

I typed calmly on the screen.

[I’m not an interpreter. I just happen to be staying across the hall and came over to make

some easy money.]

Jessica immediately transferred fifty grand.

[Post another photo! A clear shot of her face! I want to see what she looks like!]

I accepted the transfer and looked at the seventy grand that had accumulated in my account.

My mood was excellent.

This was easier money than negotiating contracts.

Just then, the bathroom door opened.

Alexander came out in just a towel. Water droplets rolled down his broad shoulders and

disappeared into the faint lines of his hips.

His dark hair was wet, his eyes fixed on me with an intense gaze.

“Olivia. What are you doing?”

I waved my phone, smiling brightly.

“Mr. Harrington, someone just offered fifty grand for a photo of me. Should I send it?”

[Girl, your info is gold!] Jessica was still spamming me in the chat.

Alexander strode over in two long steps and snatched the phone from my hand.

“Hey-Olivia.” His voice was a little rough, carrying the humid warmth of his recent shower.

He looked down at me, his damp hair dripping. A droplet landed exactly on my collarbone.

I shrank back and tried to grab the phone. “Alexander, give that back.”

He ignored me, his eyes landing on the “Eastbrook Elite Socialites” chat on the screen.

The chat was lively.

[Girl, why aren’t you talking? The photo? Fifty grand already sent. You can’t back out now!]

[Seriously, show us! What kind of witch managed to get into Harrington’s bed?]

Alexander’s frown deepened. His already imposing aura turned downright terrifying.

“Socialite chat?”

He gave a mirthless laugh, his voice unreadable. “Olivia, what am I to you? Your personal

ATM?”

I stood up confidently. Even with the height difference, I wasn’t about to back down.

“Mr. Harrington, it’s not my fault you’re so attractive. I’m just capitalizing on available

resources. You’ve barely been home in three years.”

He stared at me, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes. “So you sold me for seventy

grand?”

“Seventy grand and one room number, to be precise,” I corrected him.

He suddenly stepped closer, trapping me between the couch and his chest. “Olivia. You have

some nerve.”

His breath brushed against my ear, carrying that cedar scent.

My heart skipped a beat, but my mouth kept running. “Mr. Harrington, we have a marriage of

convenience. We each get what we need. Making a little side cash isn’t illegal, is it?”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he suddenly let go and tossed the phone back into

my lap.

“Since you love making money so much, I’ll give you another chance.”

He turned to the desk and picked up his own phone. His long fingers tapped the screen a few

times.

My phone vibrated.

A bank notification.

[Your account has been credited: $200,000.00.]

I blinked, counting the zeroes multiple times.

“Two hundred thousand?” I looked up at him.

Alexander sat in an armchair, crossing his long legs. He calmly poured himself a glass of

wine.

“What’s twenty grand worth? Send back the money you just made.”

He took a sip of wine, his gaze deep.

“And tell that chat something else. I’m married.”

My eyes widened. “You want to go public?”

“What, Ms. Blackwood thinks I’m not good enough for you?”