Page 42 of His Cruel Billionaire Scorecard

One of the top three exclusive families in New York who ran a fashion and sports empire. A big score with one of the mega whales meant a secure, permanent partnership and steady business. Plus, it didn’t hurt the company’s stock prices. Mr. Winston was only known by his first name. They were a family company whose net worth ran into trillions.

“I met him, and he agreed to a meeting. But, as luck would have it, the mega whale had three conditions that posed quite the challenge.”

“And those are?” Allen asked.

“First,” Thompson began, raising a finger to emphasize his point, “our target believes only married dudes or those planning to tie the knot are serious business partners. Tricky situation, but we gotta find a way around it.”

“Wait what?” Roman asked.

“Let him finish. Roman.”

“And here’s the kicker,” Thompson continued with a spark of mischief in his eyes, “our friendly rival, Marcus, is gunning for the same client. It’s a showdown, my friends, and we gotta outshine him.”

“And you know he’s got your girl?” Allen quipped, sipping his drink.

“Ex-girlfriend,” Thompson corrected.

“Please stop bringing her up.”

Thompson ignored them and continued, “gents, we’ve got an opportunity to snag this mega whale and show Marcus who’s boss. But we gotta act fast, and we need the perfect partner in crime.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed, fully aware of the gravity of the situation. Time was running out, and finding the right candidate felt like an uphill battle. The fate of this potential deal rested on his shoulders, what he’d wanted for years, but now that his goal was within sight, the pressure mounted with each passing moment.

He respected Marcus, but he wouldn’t allow him to have this one.

“So, what’d you say? Which crazy woman will agree to this? Your plan and be fake engaged to you in three days?”

“What’d you say, Roman?” Allen asked.

Roman set his drink down. He didn’t even need to be asked; there was one woman on his mind, one he was sure absolutely of.

***

“Absolutely not!”

Her mortified eyes told him everything he needed to know.

He’d found her address quite easily and, choosing to surprise her, decided not to call ahead.

Her arms were folded as she waited for a longer explanation than ‘be my pretend girlfriend.’

He couldn’t blame her; the last person anyone should expect on a Saturday after a long week of work was your boss.

He looked around her living room appreciatively; it had its unique charm.

Olivia’s humble home was a warm and inviting ambiance. Middle-class but lovely.

Her upbringing and her love for sports were obvious at a glance. As Roman stepped inside, he was greeted with the walls adorned with photographs and memorabilia serving as a testament to her athletic achievements and fond memories. The shelves were filled with sports knick-knacks, trophies from her childhood, and medals proudly displayed for all to see.

The small living room, cozy yet well-kept, welcomed him with its comfortable furniture and a well-worn coffee table, her home welcomed him, but she did not.

He took a step forward, picking up pictures.

Framed posters of famous athletes adorned the walls, a testament to Olivia’s admiration for the sports world.

“Mr. Roman, I’m waiting.”

The room echoed with the faint hum of her television, often broadcasting a game.

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