Page 88 of Filthy Rich

“I wasn’t desperate to get the part,” she says. “I’ve just been obsessed with you for so long. I knew if I didn’t fake having a boyfriend, you’d realize how I felt about you immediately.” She circles the car. “I’m sure dealing with a breakup is hard, so let me just say that I’m here.” She touches my arm. “And there’s nothing you could want that I wouldn’t be happy to do.”

I leap backward, my eyes hard. “Good, then do this.” I lean down, the bitter words coming easily. “Go away. If I see you for one single minute when we aren’t working, I’ll never talk to you again, not a word that isn’t a line.”

She flinches, like I’m a monster, and it feels like the first right thing in my life right now. She should flinch—she senses that I’m telling the truth. But her reaction’s also kind of a joke. She’s nearly as bad as I am, coming on to me eight seconds after I’ve dumped my girlfriend. What kind of person does that?

Maybe we deserve each other, but I’m too wrecked to even consider torturing myself with someone like her. She is a good actress. I thought she was the girl-next-door in all but location.

Why does everyone lie, even people who seem so nice? When I get back to my place, my uncle’s waiting for me, outside the door as I requested.

“You didn’t go in,” I say.

“I couldn’t.” He glares. “You changed the locks.”

I smile. “I sure did.” The one good thing that happened today.

“And you told me to come an hour ago, so I’ve been waiting up here this whole time.”

My smile broadens. “You told me who I was yourself.” I pause. “So now I’ll tell you who you’re trying to bully.” I step closer, our faces inches apart. “You told me your plan yesterday, but today you can hear my terms. I’ve dumped the burned girl.” I manage to say that without flinching. “You thought my feelings for her were a weakness.” I scoff. “I used her, just like you used me.”

“Bravo,” my uncle says. “I really thought you liked her.”

My nostrils flare. “You said it yourself. I’m an excellent actor.”

“Perhaps the student has surpassed the master,” he says. “Go on. Tell me what you want now.”

“I’ll hire you as my manager—but you’re not my father. To the whole world, you’ll be Mr. Kingsley. No one will know you’re my uncle, and if you follow that stipulation, telling people you’ve already told that it was a joke, then you’ll get your twenty percent of my cut.”

“Okay,” he says. “And?”

“And then you’ll have skin in the game.” I smile. “Because I make a lot of money.”

He frowns.

“You want revenge on the Fansees, but that bores me.” I shake my head. “You’ll drop that, or I’ll release the information about my parentage to the media myself, and you’ll lose your gravy train.” I fold my arms. “Those are my terms. You can work for me, but you’ll remember that you work for me.”

I expect an outburst, or maybe another slap.

He smiles. “It’s taken twenty years, but son, I’m finally proud of you.”

Even though I just beat the devil himself, I’ve never been more depressed in my life.

Chapter 21

Octavia

Cinderella’s fairy godmother offered her one fabulous night.

She knew going into the evening that her carriage was made of pumpkins. She knew her clothing wasn’t going to last. She knew it was all beautifully temporary.

What the movie doesn’t show is how devastating it is to get a glimpse of your heart’s desire. It makes losing it so much harder than never having had it.

But I’d do it all over again.

When someone flinches at the sight of me, I close my eyes and imagine Jake barging into my apartment and telling my mother off. When I read a nasty comment online, I remember him telling me over and over that I’m the most beautiful person he ever met.

He said he’d tell me every day, and he has.

Because I remember how he sounded when he said it. He may have been my boyfriend for less time than milk can sit on your fridge shelf without souring, but it was enough to change me.

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