Page 19 of No More Billionaires

“How do you mean?”

“Well, like, how would you feel if someonetargetedyou, tried to make you like them and fall in love with them, not because they were interested in you as a person, but because of how much money you were going to make, or how much your family had? Like that Larson guy? I’ll bet he’s been dealing with it his whole life—people who are interested in him because he has money and famous parents. It’s probably hard for someone like him to know who his real friends are.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I kept my tone casual, trying not to reveal how deeply her words had struck me.

I’d never thought to feel sorry for Larson. But I had actually overheard people at work scheming to get close to him—guys hoping to gain access to cool parties or at least hook up with the women who always hovered around Larson’s vicinity at work.

And the women, well, enough said. They acted nothing short of ridiculous around him, laughing extra loud if he said anything remotely amusing in the news meeting, touching his shoulder or his arm whenever they spoke to him at his desk.

It bugged me so much I had to look away.

Cadence gave my suitcase a significant glance. “So you’re going?”

I shrugged. “I guess. Maybe. I’m still not sure. It’s a great opportunity to get some experience field producing and to show the bosses what I can do. But… you know.”

Delving into a drawer, I pulled out a colorful stack of panties—cute underwear was the only part of my former life I hadn’t let go of—and why should I? No one but me was going to see them.

“You like him, huh?”

“No,” I snapped.

Then I sighed, placing the underwear into a pocket inside the suitcase. “Well, I guess he’s pretty nice, and he’s attractive and everything, but I just feel more comfortable maintaining some distance with him. We work together, and he’s…”

“Like Mark?”

I stopped what I was doing and looked at Cadence, my shoulders sagging. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. I’m just not doing it anymore—I’m not some rich guy’s arm candy—I deserve more. I can do better.”

“Of course you can. I’ve always known that.” She fished a loose, rather dowdy-looking blouse out of the suitcase—one of the new things I’d purchased for work. “But…”

“But what?”

She held the blouse up with a wrinkled nose. “I’m not surethisis what you are, either.”

I grabbed it from her and threw it back into the suitcase. “What do you mean?”

“You love clothes. You always have. And these past couple of months when you stopped wearing makeup—that’s like the first time you’venotworn it since you were what—twelve? You even put on beach makeup and pool makeup.”

“That’s how I used to be. I’m different now.”

“Why can’t you be both? Why do you have to give up the things you love? Can’t you be a girl who loves fashion and makeupanda smart, serious career woman who doesn’t need a rich man to take care of her?”

I was growing tired of this conversation. Well-meaning though her remarks were, they were getting on my nerves.

“Look—I appreciate it must look strange from where you’re sitting, but I’m not ‘giving up.’ I… like these new clothes, I like not fixing up. I feel better about myself this way.”

“Do you?” Her tone was full of doubt. “Because you spend most of your time outside of work these days just sitting at home, and you seem to have lost a little bit of your… I don’t know… your spark or whatever.”

I gave her a frown.

“Don’t be mad—I just want you to be happy. You don’t seem to be moping over Mark, but you seem sort of… repressed or something.”

She slid off the bed and hugged me. “But I don’t want to nag you like Momma. If you tell me you’re happy, that’s good enough for me.”

“I’mhappy,” I growled.

“Obviously.” Cadence laughed. “Okay, I’m heading down to help Little Miss Sunshine get our dry leaves and low-cal bland protein ready for supper. See you down there.”

She waggled her fingers at me as she left the room.

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