Page 3 of Don't Fall for the Billionaire
“Yes! OMG, yes!”
“We both deserve better, Trish. Forget him. I know I will.”
I was done falling for the wrong guy.
Trish and I exchanged phone numbers before she climbed out of the car and headed into her apartment building. After dropping off the rental car, I climbed into a cab and went home.
“Charlotte?” My cousin's brows furrowed when I stepped through the door. “Why are you home already?”
Setting down my bag, I placed my face in my hands and let the tears that I'd been holding all this time fall.
“Oh my gosh. What happened?” she asked, walking over and hugging me.
“He's an asshole. A one hundred percent lying, cheating, rich asshole,” I cried.
She led me to the couch and consoled me as I shared everything with her.
“I'm done with rich guys,” I said.
“Didn't you say the same thing after what's his name…Brad? The one with the Ferrari?”
“You mean Bryce,” I said. “And I know what I said. This time, I mean it. Men with money think they can do whatever they want and behave however they want. They have no respect for women or their feelings. We're nothing but toys to them.” I wiped my eyes. “Why can't I attract a nice, normal, down-to-earth guy who loves the fall season just as much as I do? A guy who doesn't care about money and lives life on the edge. I'd rather date a guy with$100 in his bank account than a guy with millions. At least I'd know he's real.”
“At least you'd know he couldn't afford to date more than one woman at the same time.” She smirked.
Chapter Two
Ashton
I opened the door to my daughter's room and stepped inside. My housekeeper, Sylvia, told me that she refused to get out of bed.
“Eloise, it's time to get up. You don't want to be late for school,” I said, sitting on the edge of her bed.
“I don't feel good, Dad,” she said, pulling the covers over her head.
“What's wrong?”
“My throat hurts, and I have a bad headache.”
Reaching over, I pulled the covers from her and placed the back of my hand on her forehead, which felt very warm.
“I'll go get the thermometer.”
Stepping into the bathroom, I opened the drawer, took out the thermometer, and placed it under her tongue. When it beeped, I looked at it.
“101.5.” I sighed. Leaning over, I pressed my lips against her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
I headed down to the kitchen. “She has a fever. 101.5,” I said to Sylvia.
“That poor child.” She handed me a cup of coffee.
“Is there any way you can take her to the doctor today?” I asked.
“I'm sorry, Ashton, but I can't. Remember, I'm taking a half day today for a doctor’s appointment.”
“That's right. I forgot. Damn it. I need to hire a new nanny.”
“You've interviewed at least a dozen women. You still haven't found anyone to replace Maura?”
