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

“I’ve got an idea,” she said excitedly. She disappeared for a moment, then sailed back into the room clutching a hammer, a bat, and two pairs of ski glasses her parents had gotten us for Christmas. Her eyes sparkled as she handed one pair to me.

I nodded my head, acknowledging the genius. “That’s brilliant.” We strapped them on like the athletes we’d always intended to be, and I took the hammer. “Awright, you ready?”

Her eyes grew unnaturally focused. “I was born for this.”

On the count of three, we both lunged for the bottle, hitting and swinging with all our hearts. Someone—we could never settle who—finally cracked the thing, but instead of stopping, we launched farther into the fray, giggling and screaming as we slowly demolished every sizable piece of glass.

Beaming, I carefully extracted the ring, which I’d had the good sense to sweep to the side before the battle really heated up.

“There,” I said with a wide smile. “No harm done.”

There was a loud, belated snap! and a huge crack sprang up the center of the tub.

Our faces fell as we stared at it, panting in the quiet aftermath.

“You know,” Amanda said quietly, “this relationship situation may suck, but no matter how it might have spun off the rails, you did, in fact, sign up for it. What you need to do now is grow up, take the high road, and do the mature thing here.”

My shoulders wilted. “I should suck it up?”

She shook her head, looking startled that I’d even mentioned it.

“You should get even.”

So…confession. I may have deleted Marcus’ number from my phone, but in truth, I’d memorized it by the end of the first day. In hindsight, this was probably a bad thing, because I had no problem dialing him up—despite the absurd amount of alcohol I’d already imbibed.

“Rebecca?” he asked curiously, answering on the first ring. “I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you until—”

I laughed. “Well, you’re hearing from me now.”

I hiccupped, and there was a pause on the other end.

“You two got into the tequila again, didn’t you?”

“That’s neither here nor there,” I slurred, watching as Amanda signed our names into the powdered glass with the tip of a razor. “Listen, we’re going out, and we’re inviting you to come.”

There was another incredulous pause. But when Marcus finally spoke, he sounded noticeably brighter, even relieved. “Where are we going?”

“Karaoke!” Amanda shouted happily, deviating from our secret plan. I shushed her with a furious look and her voice dropped down to an apologetic whisper, “Karaoke.”

This time, the pause was even longer still.

Marcus was not a man who really, how should I put it…feared things. There were things that made him uncomfortable, some things that he’d even actively avoid. But nothing that he actually downright feared.

Except singing in public.

It was his nightmare, confessed to me in a rare moment of open sharing that night on the beach. But you know my nightmare? Right after enraging my mother and public dancing, both of which he’d already made me do?

Getting married.

That’s right. A pound for a pound. An eye for an eye.

He proposed to me on an international platform, so I was making him do this. He couldn’t control every part of this relationship, even if it was fake. Besides, he might just have fun! Sometimes, he would have to leave his comfort zone. Sometimes, he’d have to be the one to make some sacrifices. And I could think of no better way to make that happen.

He cleared his throat, clearly trying to keep it together as he made up his mind. “And where are we going to do this?” His forced cheer wasn’t fooling anyone.

“K-town.” I grinned mischievously. “That’s ‘K’ for karaoke. And Korea. It’s in Korea-town.”

“I know what K-town is.”