Page 46 of Fake Marriage with the Billionaire

She shook her head. “I don’t want it.”

“Stella…”

“I want you, Richard,” she said. “Don’t you get that? I want to be with you. I…I love you.”

Now it was out there. Stella had implied it earlier, but now the three words that she’d been avoiding were hanging in the air between them like a blown kiss looking for a place to land. Richard stared at her coldly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I don’t love you. This was just business.”

Stella’s eyes started to burn as a new pain bloomed in her chest. He waved the check at her. “Take the check, Stella.”

She grimaced, forcing her tears back. “You sonofabitch—”

“Stella—”

“No! You don’t get to do this to me. Not after all this. Not after everything. Do you think you can just throw some money at me and that’ll solve everything? Is that the way it goes in your world?”

He lowered the hand with the check-in it and rubbed the space between his eyes. “Stella…it’s better this way.”

“Better—?!”

“You don’t belong in my world any more than I belong in yours. It was never going to work out no matter what happened. This is over. The least you can do is take the money and…go on with your life.”

Her eyes were burning and she felt like she was on the verge of sobs. But she wasn’t about to let him see it. No, he wouldn’t have access to any part of her anymore. Least of all her tears.

“Fuck you,” she said, then she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

She held her sobs back all the way down to the lobby and out the door. As soon as the air hit her face, the sobs came in large gulps. Stella got as far as her far before she broke down completely, sitting in the driver’s seat and leaning against the wheel, sobbing uncontrollably.

Richard

Ithadbeenafew days since everything fell apart. Richard was sitting on his couch in sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He hadn’t showered or shaved or bothered to eat anything that didn’t come in a takeout bag. At the moment, he was halfway through his fourth six-pack of beer, watching television.

Or, it was more like the television was watching him. He’d been sitting privy to a parade of court television and reality shows, barely keeping up with what was happening. He didn’t really care about it. It was just on for noise. The events of the last few days were all he could see in his mind, but it was so much worse if the television wasn’t on. In the quiet house, his mind just spun out of control, tormenting him violently with every horrible thing he’d said to her.

And part of him was bent on blaming her for all of this. After all, she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him. She was supposed to just do her part and collect her money. He was supposed to let her do her part and collect her money. Yet, all this started with one drunken night and two people longing for human companionship.

Worse than all that, he wasn’t supposed to fall in love withher. He knew that he felt the same way. He’d known it for a while now. When it all came down to it, he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Not then and never in a million years.

It was all his fault for letting it get so far out of hand. He should have resisted her both sexually and in every other way imaginable. They should have stuck to what was in the binder and nothing else. Kept it simple. Now all he could do was sit there on his couch and look at what a mess this whole thing had been. He’d been such a fool. Again.

This time was worse though. This time, he could have stopped it and it didn’t.

The show he was watching ended and he leaned forward to get another beer from the six-pack at his feet. Maybe if he stayed drunk it won’t hurt so much later. Maybe he could drink until he blacked out and forgot all about her.

The doorbell rang. He heard the maid move to answer it and he called out, “Tell them I’m not home!”

He went back to watching his show, all the while, listening as his maid opened the door, then he heard talking. Then arguing. Then the loud noises came into the foyer.

“I know you’re here, Rich! Get out here!”

Stoney. Well, he certainly should have expected that. His maid was yelling at him to leave, but Stoney was ignoring her. Richard could hear him yelling through the halls as he made his way to the living room.

Richard stood up and he walked into the room. Stoney glared at him, fire in his icy blue eyes.

“It’s okay,” Richard said to the maid. “He’s fine.”

The maid left and Stoney walked up to him. “You sonofabitch.”

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