The Billionaire's Fake Girlfriend: Part 1 (The Billionaire Saga 1)

“This is just for me. What about Amanda?” I demanded. “We share the apartment; you can’t just kick one of us out!”

“Miss Gates has never once been late with her rent check. It’s only you, Miss White.” He took a step closer, eyes widening ominously. “All alone.”

I shoved him back with a distasteful grimace. In my first week of living here, I’d politely declined a dinner invitation. Ever since, it had been a full-on Cold War.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned. “I’m sure you can live in that piece of shit car of yours.”

Don’t think I haven’t thought of that.

I smiled sarcastically and pushed past him down the stairs. “I’ll deal with this later. Some of us have actual jobs to get to. You know…not just creeping in the halls waiting for—”

The door slammed shut, and my voice trailed off. It was for the best. I was running out of things to say anyway. The eviction notice burned heavy in my heart as I trudged across the lot to the car. How was I going to magic this away? How was I going to come up with two months’ rent in ten days? Amanda could ask her parents to help me, sure, but I didn’t want to take money from them. Then again, half of my paycheck this month was already going to fix this damn car.

I yanked open the door and slid inside—closing my eyes and leaning back hard against the cracked leather seat. It smelled like curdled coffee and putrid french fries. Perfect.

Well…I’d just have to think of something. I always did.

I tossed the open yogurt in the back and held my breath as I turned the keys, praying that Amanda had been wrong and the “broken thing” was not the ignition fuse.

***

They puked on me at work. They laughed at me at the car shop. And after seven hours of staring at my eviction notice, I was beginning to think that even the cosmic forces were having a bit of a chuckle.

Having had my lunch hijacked by what turned out to be a leaking coolant system, I was absolutely starving by the time I finally pulled into the lot back at my apartment. I hopped out of the car with kitchen tunnel-vision, hoping there was still some leftover Chinese I could heat up before heading out to my open casting in thirty minutes. Amanda was no doubt already there, saving our place in line. Either that or her breakfast date with Barry had gone better than expected, and I was about to get evicted from my apartment twice in one day.

I was so wrapped up in these thoughts; I didn’t even notice the dark outline of the man until it was clear he was following me. My breath caught in my chest as my hands snaked down into my purse. I was too far from the apartment door to run for help. Too far from my car to double back again. My heartbeat thundered. Okay, I had to admit, I was scared shitless!

This cannot be happening. You have to be getting this wrong.

But the man obviously had me in his sights. I walked as quickly as possible without breaking into a run, but still he was gaining on me.

Take a breath. You’ve rehearsed this a million times in your head. You know what to do.

I slowly, deeply filled my lungs—keeping my eyes on something steady. The echoing footsteps grew louder, but it wasn’t until I could actually feel the warmth of the person behind me that I pulled out my pepper spray and opened fire.

…right into Marcus Taylor’s eyes.

Chapter 9

“For goodness’ sake!”

His hands flew up to his eyes. My hands flew up to my mouth. What did I just do? I wasn’t super close so he didn’t get the full blast, thank goodness. I don’t think that much got into his eyes, but enough to sting some.

Shit! I’m an idiot! “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

He stumbled a few steps back, clutching at his face.

“I thought you were an attacker!” I dropped the pepper spray.

“You’re the attacker! I’ve never met anyone with such a violent streak!”

He pressed his fists into his eyes and cursed. Despite my guilty panic, and despite the fact that I had no idea how he’d found me here at my apartment, I resisted the urge to bolt. He was obviously hurt, and I couldn’t just stand there. My medical training kicked in, and I gently tried to pry loose his hands. “Here, just let me see.”

“Take your hands off me, Rebecca!”

Guess he wasn’t thinking my name was so beautiful now.

“I’m trying to help—I’m a nursing assistant.”