The Billionaire's Fake Girlfriend: Part 2 (The Billionaire Saga 2)

The point being, I was ready for a clean slate. I even took the time to graciously clean Deevus’ water bowl before I left for work, setting it down with a grand relish in front of him. I headed out to the bus stop with a determined smile. I’d also ignored the red light flashing frantically on my phone. I’d missed a call from my mom, and she’d no doubt left a voicemail chastising me for neglect. I’d call her back after my shift, I decided, throwing the phone onto the sofa. On most days, I’d never consider leaving without it, but this was an exception. The thought of cutting myself off from the world and burying my head in something normal held an absurdly strong appeal, and I skipped merrily down the garbage-lined streets, delighted to be catching the early bus.

This was going to be a good day, dammit. Even if I had to hold a gun to its head.

My stellar attitude must have shown because I could have sworn people were looking at me differently on the bus. I avoided the sideways glances and subtle stares with a fixed smile, keeping my eyes fastened on the road as I slid on my sunglasses. Worst case scenario, I had something stuck to my scrubs. Best case scenario, my new aura was already rubbing off on people, and I was going to start a cult of positivity. Either way—not so bad.

I jumped off the bus a stop early so I could duck into my favorite coffee shop and grab a mocha to keep me going through work. The place was packed as usual, but I slipped quickly into line and watched as my favorite barista, Kelly, danced back and forth behind the counter—multi-tasking with a grace and speed I was certain I could never achieve. My vision blurred distractedly as I started running through my mental checklist for the day. Right after work, I was heading to the bank. Then I needed to send off the first auto repair check to the shop…

“…pretty sure that’s her. Rebecca something or other…”

I turned around with a slight frown to see a group of people staring my way. Staring because I was staring, no doubt. My face quickly cleared with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, thought I heard my name.”

They froze for a second before returning nervously to their huddle as I turned back around. A strange chill was creeping slowly up my spine. I didn’t think I could be imagining it. I didn’t think I was being paranoid. People were definitely staring at me.

My heart sank a fraction of an inch despite my supreme efforts to keep it afloat, and I checked my clothes as discreetly as I could. No big deal. I’d just ask Kelly whatever it was, fix it, and continued on with my sunshiny, normal day.

“Hey,” I greeted her preemptively as I reached the counter, “do I have something—”

“Rebecca!” Her face lit up, and she handed me an already prepared mocha-chino. “I see you caught the early bus.” She glanced quickly around, then leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper. “Congratulations.”

I blinked. A rather lackluster thing to be congratulated for, but I commended her optimism. That sort of attitude was exactly the thing my new cult of positivity needed.

“Thanks,” I said slowly, shooting her a curious look before heading back outside.

Still mulling over the strange encounter, I hurried on down the sidewalk, gripping my mocha in one hand and rummaging around in my purse with the other. The walk through the park to the hospice center wasn’t far, but I still had to step on it if I didn’t want to be late. On that note, I needed to remember to talk to Lisa, my supervisor, about a possible schedule change. I hadn’t fulfilled the end of the bargain by staying the full weekend like I was supposed to. Now that I wasn’t going to be getting the other half of my “supplemental income,” I’d need to pick up an extra shift here or there if I—

“Ow!”

My scalding hot mocha spilled down the front of my scrubs as I walked headfirst into a man who had stopped suddenly on the cement. Ripping off the sunglasses, I gave myself a once-over before turning to him, unsure as to whose fault the collision had been.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized quickly, relieved to see that he hadn’t burned himself as well. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”

The man’s look of indignation transformed before my very eyes, lighting up to one of scarcely contained excitement as he waved a newspaper at me. “You’re the girl, right?”

If you live in LA long enough, you learn to avoid getting sucked into people’s crazy.

I put my sunglasses back on. “No, sorry. Wrong person,” I said quickly as I hurried on past.

“The girl with Marcus Taylor?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, fighting the urge to smack myself in the forehead.

Of course.

The looks on the bus, Kelly’s congratulations, the newspaper. The pictures from the Diabetes Fundraiser Gala had to have come out in the paper. Marcus and I had posed for so many different events these last two weeks I could scarcely keep track.

And of course, those had to come out today.

Today of all days. The day after I was making every concerted effort to put those two weeks and that gigantic mistake behind me.

I was going to have to deal with the fallout sooner or later. I should have expected this.

Without another word, I walked off through the grove, dodging looks and angry pedestrians alike.

So much for having a Marcus-free morning, I thought as I tipped my change automatically into my customary homeless man’s cup. Not that it would have lasted long anyway. The second Amanda got home, I’d have to relive the whole thing. I’d have to relive it when I pulled that money out of the freezer and finally took it to the bank (an errand I’d been postponing on the off chance they’d think I’d stolen it or ask me why it was so cold). And I’d have to relive it every time I saw his handsome face on a magazine or in the news somewhere.

No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, Marcus Taylor would be plaguing me—to some degree or another—every day for the rest of my life. He was impossible to escape!