Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“Fine. I’ll make it double. Twenty grands. Don’t turn me down. I’m a desperate grandmother who just wants to give her grandson a good life. You have no idea what it’s like to be famous, to have money. To have everyone on earth wanting a piece of you.”
“If I fake date him, wouldn’t they want a piece of me too?”
Julie Louise Paris shakes her head. “You’re too normal. Too boring. Too…too bland for them. They’d get tired of the whole thing after a week and leave him alone.”
I’m so confused, but one thing I do know is that I’m not going to be bought. “I can’t take money for that. I can’t fake date someone. It’s not…that’s not right.”
“Fine. You’re fired then.”
“What?” I leap up at the same time as Julie Louise Paris stands. “You can’t do that! You said you wouldn’t!”
“I own the company, dear. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to have to resort to it, but you leave me no choice.”
I’ve never used money to motivate me for anything, but right now, I know I have two choices. Take Julie Louise Paris up on her offer or lose my job and probably my house and car too. My credit would be shit. Where would I work? Who would hire me? She’d probably make sure no one in St. Louis, or maybe the whole freaking country, or even beyond that, does.
She looks like a sweet old lady, but I think she might be the devil. Even if she does look really sad, a heck of a lot depressed, and totally deflated at the moment. Like she doesn’t enjoy this bit at all. But whatever. She’s the one doing it, not me.
“Fine,” I seethe. “I’ll take your twenty grands. And I want it in writing that you will never touch my position at the company. I don’t need a promotion, but I want some certainty that you won’t be able to fire me. That no one will. And that you won’t mess with the company to get around it somehow.”
“Deal.” Julie Louise Paris sticks out an elegant-looking hand. She’s not wearing any jewelry, but her fingers are slender and delicate, not twisted up or swollen at all with age. Her nails are filed into neat, tidy squares, but she doesn’t even have them polished, let alone painted.
I don’t want to shake her hand, but I find myself stretching mine out. She then clasps it with the lightest pressure. Shaking her hand is like shaking hands with a butterfly, and I’m kind of amazed that I just touched Julie Louise Paris. The Julie Louise Paris. But then I want to put my foot up my butt for being a little bit starstruck after what just happened here.
With a firm nod, Julie Louise Paris walks to the door, and I follow in her wake like I’ve been sucked into her tide.
“I’ll have the money ready soon. Please don’t tell Asher I was here or about the cash. If you do, our deal is void, and you will lose your job. I’m not a mean old lady. I swear I never wanted to threaten anyone, but I’ve lived sixty-five years on this earth, and I know that sometimes, unpleasant things can only come out sounding as unpleasant as they are. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just trying to protect my family.”
And with that, she leaves me. I sniff at the closed door, fighting back the pinpricks of tears. Why would I cry? Seriously. That’s the last thing I should be doing.
It’s just a lot. These past few days, Byron the bastard, my kitchen table, and kissing a complete stranger, who turned out to be my boss. Also, being threatened by his pretty, cute, sugary-looking, and hard as steel granny. She might look like a trendy, fashionable as fuck, sweetie, but really, she’s more like a bad trip to the bathroom after one too many tacos.
Is this seriously what my life has become?
I stalk into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, but when I see the kitchen table still standing there, I know what I have to do.
CHAPTER 4
Emily
Here I thought that when rich people’s kids and grandkids pissed them off by doing bad things and acting out, they just disowned and traded them in for a new batch. Clearly, I have a lot to learn. But if I could magically become the adopted granddaughter or daughter of a billionaire, I think I’d sign on that dotted line pretty fast. I mean, as long as everything is normal and I don’t have to do weird or gross stuff for the privilege, which can probably be a whole list of nonsense things.
Then, I wouldn’t need to worry about Asher Paris coming to my door and asking me to be his fake girlfriend, or his go-getter granny, who already bought my loyalty through bribery. I have to admit that I think it pained her to do it. She looked a little constipated when she threatened me.