Page 46 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

“It won’t come to that,” I say.

“What if it does? I don’t trust her.”

“If worse comes to worst, you said you could handle it. Did you not say that?” Not that it would ever come to that.

“Of course I could handle it,” Aaron says. “Probably. She does have a claim, though. And she’s playing some kind of game here, I can feel it in my bones. You need to cut her loose.”

“That’s not gonna happen until I’m good and ready,” I say, firing up my monitor.

Aaron sniffs unhappily.

Aaron was angry that James was so against the Arcana Protech offer. Naturally, I sided with James.

Aaron is way too focused on his portion of the money, treating the sale like a done deal whereas it’s anything but assured. Sales like this frequently seem to come together only to evaporate like clouds in the wind.

“In fact, I have her living at my place,” I add.

“What?” he says. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because she’s playing my wife,” I say. “Because I can. Take your pick.”

“Have you lost your mind?” he asks. “You’ll give her a taste of the billionaire lifestyle and then send her back to her hovel? And expect her not to go after a piece of your fortune?”

“She won’t,” I inform him. “I doubt she even balances her checking account.”

If anything, this deepens Aaron’s distress. I suppose somebody who is so money-focused can have a hard time comprehending somebody as art-focused as Francine.

There’s nothing profitable about a moment of beauty, and that’s what Francine’s gunning for. She would literally give up her freedom of movement—hasgiven up her freedom for three weeks—because she wants to dance in front of some ancient ruins.

I think it’s an admirable way to be. Inspiring, even. I’ve spent so much time in the world of business, I’ve forgotten about the artist’s mindset. It’s a refreshing way of moving through life.

“Francine’s main goal in life is to see this ballet come into being,” I inform Aaron. “To create this moment in time. That’s worth more to her than any tangible thing either of us could come up with.”

“That’s funny,” Aaron says. “I thought Francine’s main goal in life is to get free of you.”

I shrug. He’s not wrong about that.

“You don’t think she’s laughing at you?” he asks.

“I don’t give a shit either way,” I say.

“She’s asked you for one thing and one thing only,” he continues. “A divorce. And here you are, forcing this charade on her, going on about arty spectacles. Is this some kind of punishment? Some kind of test? Are you trying to prove once and for all that you’re immune to her?”

“Francine’s commitment is three weeks and it’s my instinct to use them all,” I say. “My instincts were spot-on last night, they’re spot-on right now. Frankly, if my instincts hadn’t been so spot-on for the past ten years, you wouldn’t be riding around in the back of a Bentley.”

“But most people who arrange a fake relationship do it for a specific event, like a wedding or a holiday or a black-tie event,” he says. “What is this for?”

“I’m correcting bullshit rumors that the world seems to have about me,” I say.

“You never gave a shit about those rumors before.”

I give him an ice-cold stare.

He holds up his hands. “I’m just saying.”

I wait.

“Fine,” he says.

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