Page 2 of Faking It with my Small Town Billionaire

“I won’t do it,” I say plainly.

“Then you can kiss your inheritance goodbye,” Pops says, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Why?” I bark. “Why would you make me go back when you know how much I hate the place?”

“You ran away, Orson.”

“I did not run—”

“You ran away, and you’ve never been back. This family doesn’t produce cowards. You’re going back, and you’re going to show those people what you’re made of.”

“This is ridiculous.” My angry voice trembles slightly on the last word.

“You see, this is the very reason I’m doing this. Your father is like me. He’s a hard man who does what is necessary to get the job done. You’ve always been more like your mother. There’s a soft side to you. There’s nothing wrong with that,” he adds quickly. “Your mother is a fine woman. But no relation of mine is going to get away with being a coward.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not, and we both know it. You’re fierce when you need to be, Orson, but this will be a final test to see if you’ve got what it takes. There’s no compromise here. It’s this, or you spend the rest of your life working for whoever the board decides will run the company.”

What am I supposed to say to that? Stubbornness doesn’t run in this family, it gallops. He isn’t going to change his mind, so there’s no point in me trying. Whether I like it or not—and I don’t—I’m going back to Willow Creek. That tiny town in the middle of nowhere.

“What do I have to do?” I say, heaving a sigh of defeat.

Pops grins with the smugness of someone who knew he was going to win before the battle had even begun. “We’ve agreed to come on board as investors. There are a few companies involved, but we’ll be doing the heavy lifting.”

I frown because I don’t understand why Willow Creek needs investors.

“The town has suffered over the last five years, Orson.” Pops lifts a file and tosses it across the desk. “All you need to know is in there. It’s no longer the place you remember with such affection.” He smirks.

I grab the file with the enthusiasm of a slug in a puddle. It’s thick and, no doubt, heavy reading. Great. Just what I need to start off my weekend.

“Is that it?” I say, hardly able to believe he brought me all the way up here for this.

“That’s it.” He shrugs.

“Fine. I’ll read it when I get back to the city,” I growl, turning on my heel and heading toward the door. I open it and turn to say goodbye.

“Oh, there is one other thing,” Pops says, a mischievous look in his eye.

“Uh-huh?” I say, just wanting to leave and drown my sorrows in a bottle of bourbon.

“It’s another stipulation to your inheritance, so listen carefully.”

“All ears,” I say impatiently.

“You need to get married before you’re thirty-five.”

I burst into laughter and throw him a comical look. “Oh, yeah. Good one.”

But Pops isn’t laughing, and as my laughter fades, he’s looking at me with the seriousness of a car accident.

“You’re not serious?” I blurt.

“Oh, but I am, Orson.”

I’m already angry at having to go to Willow Creek, but I can now feel a rage bubbling inside me. “This is insane.”

“Why?” the old man asks as if we’re discussing the color of his drapes.

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