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

“I’m familiar with the Westwood facility. I’ve seen you there before.”

It seemed like a simple enough answer, but in fact, it raised a hell of a lot more questions.

I leaned back on my heels. “And how did you know I work there?”

“I saw you there last month. Remember the big meeting and all that Chinese takeout?”

“All those suits? Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, I was there. I saw you pushing an elderly lady who was crying. You were hugging her and consoling her, and I thought it was so moving. It really touched my heart. It was genuine and sincere.”

“Her husband had just passed away. My heart went out to her.”

“You were very compassionate.”

“I bet you’re not thinking that so much now.”

He laughed.

I led him blindly to the curb by my car and calmly lowered him down so we were both sitting. Once he was relatively subdued, I hastily rummaged through the backseat, emerging a moment later with a clean shirt and a bottle of Aquafina.

“Here,” I offered, soaking the hem and gently tugging on his wrists. He resisted for a moment, but finally lowered them—letting me dab the skin around his eyes. After a few seconds, the co

rner of his mouth twitched. I kept dabbing the skin until the inexplicable smile was too much to ignore. “What could possibly be funny right now?”

“It’s just a dangerous precedent we’re setting, that’s all.”

I couldn’t help but grin myself. “Not for me, apparently. Just for you.”

“Just wait,” he warned, “your time is coming.”

I tugged a little harder than necessary on his hair as I tilted his head back. “Now try to keep your eyes open,” I advised. “We want to rinse off as much of this as possible.”

With exceedingly delicate hands, I tilted his head back still farther and poured the remnants of the bottle up over his face. Little trickles snaked through his hair, streaking it silver in the light before pooling in incriminating circles on the sidewalk.

He’d shut his eyes almost immediately, but pried them open when I was finished, looking at me for bloodshot approval. “Well?”

“You survived,” I said. “In my professional opinion, you’re going to be just fine. You’re lucky I sprayed from a distance. It could’ve been much worse. And I really want to apologize again. I’m so sorry I got spooked. I will definitely have to buy you a cup of coffee. But not now because I’m running late.”

I had thought about Marcus Taylor a lot since we had first met in that coffee shop. But after he propositioned me, I didn’t have the same respect for him. I wasn’t some whore. But after Macing him, the least I could do was buy the guy a cup of coffee. I owed him that much.

“Is this what I have to do to get you to buy me a cup of coffee?” he said in a joking tone.

I smiled. “I guess the other guy at the coffee shop had it much easier.”

He made a disgruntled huffing sound, somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “I’m sorry I’m making you late.”

“It’s fine.”

He took a breath to slow the quick back and forth before it got out of hand. “I came here to apologize, firstly, for startling you at my party. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression.”

I said nothing, chewing nervously on my lower lip.

He shook his head, wiping his eyes with my shirt. “I don’t get it. Why are you so jumpy?”

For the first time, I rallied to my own defense. “You try being a girl living alone in this city. See how jumpy it makes you.”

“Touché,” he said mildly. Then his eyes flickered up curiously. “Do you live alone?”