The Billionaire’s Kitten

“I’ll be ready, Gray, you can count on me.”

And taking a deep breath, I collected my bag before getting up once more and heading towards the door. Pausing slightly, I turned and smiled my first real smile at the billionaire.

“I’ll be ready Gray,” I said quietly. “I promise.”

“You better,” was his growled reply, those blue eyes seizing my soul. “You better.”

And the words rang in my head as I took the elevator downwards. Because I’d promised I’d be ready, but was I? Was I ready for the time of my life with this domineering, arrogant billionaire? Was I ready to play the part of fake wife for a month, giving this man my all? Or was I in over my head?

I should have been scared, I should have been terrified, cowering in my apartment. But actually, the thought of fear never crossed my mind. Because instead, there was opportunity. Opportunity opened before me, filled with colors, possibility, and a world that I’d never experienced. I should have felt overwhelmed and in over my head, but instead, I was excited, filled with trembling anticipation, my senses on high, insides quivering. Because Gray would never hurt me … or so I prayed.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kitty

“Honey, come in,” said Rhonda, answering the door. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Gray frowned momentarily on the doorstep.

“Where’s Arlo?” he asked. “Why are you answering the door yourself?”

Rhonda smiled, although she was far too polite to roll her eyes.

“Even the staff get vacations sometimes, Gray,” she replied dryly. “Not everyone works around the clock like you do. Now come in,” she said. “Kitty so lovely to see you again!”

I smiled hesitantly, stepping into the foyer of the house. And immediately, I gasped, eyes round, because this was no regular house. Rhonda lived in a mansion in the Nevada desert, and her house showed it. Not just her house, but also the lawns around it, shimmering and green. As the car had driven through the gates, I’d stared, wide-eyed through the windows.

“All that grass,” I murmured wonderingly. “That’s a lot of grass!”

Gray snorted next to me in the back seat.

“Grass in the Nevada desert is fucking expensive,” he ground out. “It takes an arm and leg to maintain, but Rhonda’s got the cash,” he shrugged.

“I can’t imagine how much it costs,” I breathed, shaking my head again, marveling at the wide expanse of green. “And we’re in a drought too.”

“Rhonda’s got hook-ups at the water commission, she’s probably getting some mad discount,” Gray rumbled again. “But it’s about appearances. We’re hotel kings honey, we can’t go around looking poor.”

I nodded slowly. Right, appearances. And the sad thing was that I was part of the illusion he was creating. I was the fake fiancée, here to play a role, just like the grass.

Suddenly, a gray cloud descended on my head, making me sad and depressed. But why? Why did I feel this way?

The voice in my brain piped up.

Get with it Kitty, it scolded. What’s with all these questions? So what if you’re part of a masquerade? Your boss just paid you two hundred thousand cash, so do your job.

Right. Gray was my boss, he was the man I took orders from. Inhaling deeply, I braced myself because the voice was right. So what if I was a fake? So what if I was nothing more than an actress? It was all about money, about staying in school and graduating.

But stepping into Rhonda’s house, all my doubts came crashing down again. Because I’m a poor girl and the sumptuous luxury took my breath away, knocking me off my feet. We stood in a double-height marble foyer, a huge chandelier dangling over our heads, wall sconces in perfectly set niches. On one side, there was a giant living room with white couches and floor to ceiling windows, while on the other, was a second giant living room with grey couches and priceless artwork.

Get a hold of yourself, scolded the voice again. So what if the Channings are rich? It doesn’t make them better people.

I gulped. That was true, and summoning my courage, I squared my shoulders.

“Your home is lovely,” I murmured to Rhonda. “Absolutely lovely.”

“Oh thank you!” she remarked. “I’m glad you like it because Gray threw up on that rug right there when he was small,” she said pointing to a small, unnoticeable patch on the side. “It washed out but I like to remind him of it sometimes.”

I giggled, more relaxed already. Rhonda had a way about her of making people comfortable, and I was no exception. The tenseness drained from my shoulders and I smiled for real this time, exhaling my stress.

“Really?” I asked. “I can hardly picture the powerful Grayson Channing doing anything like vomiting.”

“Oh yes!” chortled Rhonda merrily. “Grayson was always coming down with bloody noses, and remember that summer you had really bad acne, son?” she asked. “It was so terrible that we went to the dermatologist every week.”