Page 2 of The Billionaire’s Fake Fiancée
And yet I can't bring myself to accept.
Why is he not offering this as a simple business loan with a high interest rate? Why attach this insane condition to it?
I have a month to pay back my debtors, or I forfeit everything. My office, my rented studio-apartment. Even my car, I remind myself. Biting the inside of my lips, I swallow down the emotions churning inside. I must stay focused. Keep my mind sharp to hold my own against this guy.
"You don't think I'm just going to hand the money over, do you? I also need some guarantee on the returns."
"The idea for my app is brilliant," I snap back. "Nothing else in the market draws up horoscopes based on people's profile pictures, then matches them to find their perfect partner."
Do our horoscopes match?
Where had that thought come from?
"An interesting premise. You just don't have enough business sense to make it a success."
I bristle, but he cuts the air with his palm in an authoritative gesture.
"If you did, you wouldn't have had to come to me."
That shuts me up.
He's right. I've let things get this far out of hand. But then, I never can do things halfway. If I believe in something, I throw caution to the wind and jump right in. I’m just not sure if I want the same in my personal life.
"Don't look so glum. A few days in London never hurt anyone. All you have to do is play the part of my girlfriend at a family wedding."
Wedding? Family? My stomach churns.
At five, an American couple had found me wandering the streets of Bombay, with no memory of my past life. My adoptive father had saved me from being run over by a car.
I'll be forever grateful to them for giving me a new life, and yet … I still wonder about my real parents.
No, thinking about family, any family, is not my favorite pastime.
Some of my dismay must have shown, for he says, "My father has his faults, but he doesn't stint when it comes to throwing a party."
He keeps a straight face as I try to make out if he's simply leading me on with this proposal. But he seems to mean it.
"Besides, it's one of those society shindigs you women love," he adds.
"Shindigs?" I echo, struggling to keep my voice neutral.
"Yep," he nods. "The cream of London society will be there. The media will be all over it, the paparazzi trying to sneak pictures of the wedding. You'll meet some very powerful people," he adds. "With the connections you make, you could raise more funding … even snag a rich husband."
Great, so it's not like this trip is going to stay secret; it's going to be out there for the world to see.
I'm also disappointed in Jace. I thought I'd seen intelligence in those eyes. Yet here he is, consigning me to the stereotype of a woman and what her place in the world should be. I'd been sure he was smarter than that.
And yet, something about him reaches out to me, pulls at me. I shove aside the pinpricks of awareness that dance across my skin.
I don't want to be attracted to this man.
"When your father runs Britain's largest media company, such shindigs must be an everyday occurrence for you," I say, my voice sharp.
His eyes narrow, and he shrugs. "No reason you can't take advantage of the opportunity when you are there."
"Don't you have a girlfriend? An ex? Someone else?" My voice is desperate in my last-ditch resort to get out of this crazy scheme.
Besides, I want to understand his intentions. Why is he suggesting such an unusual arrangement?
