Page 27 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

She raises her eyebrows, dimples in full flare.

I give her a stern look.

“Uhh, okay. Hopefully nobody gets near that topic,” she says. “Will I be able to continue my business after we’re married? I hope so, because I love running my own business. I have big dreams around it, and it’s best to stick close to the truth, especially with somebody like this Gail Driscoll person. You can change my look, but you can’t change my personality. After our wedding, I’m not planning on hanging around in the country club. I’m a city girl who loves being near her friends and all of the action. And I love my clients, and I’m really into being a businesswoman. In fact, working with your personal shopper gave me some new ideas for expanding my offerings in a really exciting way.”

I’m still stuck on her client comment.I love my clients.What exactly does that mean? Are some of these clients male? Not that I care. “You want to work. Fine. I wouldn’t like a woman who wants to coast on my money.”

“This is good. See how we’re creating a picture of us as a couple? I’m not the society-climbing fiancée. I’m the cheerful, playful fiancée who balances you out. I bring fun and joy to your…” She seems to be searching for a word. “…your veryseriouslife,” she finally says.

What was she really going to say? I study her big brown eyes, though brown’s not quite the word, and light brown isn’t right either—her eyes have light and depth and richness, and a kind of softness, like a fox-brown gleam.

“We make sense in an opposites-attract way for sure,” she continues. “And we’re both really focused on our careers, but we fell for each other. How did it happen? That’s something people will ask about. We need a couples origin story. How did we start going out?”

“Certain things will not be happening on that yacht,” I grumble. “Top of the list: me breathlessly telling people our couples origin story.”

“People will ask. I’m warning you—I’m not that good at making things up on the spot.”

“Figure it out. I have to work.”

“You’re leaving our couples story up to me?” she asks. “What if you don’t like what I come up with?”

“I don’t care either way. I’m the man of few words and you’re the sharer.”

“There are some important questions here.”

“I’m not doing seventy questions. Find three important ones. I doubt there are even three important ones on that whole thing.”

She studies the list. “Past significant relationships,” she says. “I was engaged when I was twenty-two. Straight out of college, but it didn’t last long. We were young. It was stupid.”

Stupid?“In what way?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Just stupid.” I wait for her to elaborate, but she’s back to scanning the list. She went on and on about her hamster, and this is what she decides to hold back on? Maybe it was impulsive. I could see Tabitha getting engaged to somebody inappropriate. Was he the male version of Tabitha? Colorful and happy-go-lucky? Did he wear hats and play the ukulele? I find the idea incredibly annoying.

“And that’s it for your significant relationships?” I ask.

“I keep things casual these days,” she says. “I’m a friends-with-benefits gal.”

I frown, not at all loving that.

“Waiting,” she says.

“No significant relationships. Ever. Next.”

“Okay, what is your dream? Your ultimate goal in life?”

I fixe a steely gaze on her. “I’m a billionaire flying around in my own jet. I’m living the dream.”

“Come on,” she says. “People never stop dreaming of the next thing. Don’t billionaires try to fly to the moon in a rocket ship once they have everything else nailed?”

“A rocket ship is just a rich man’s Corvette,” I say.

“What do I know? Maybe you’re the Corvette type…” Her smile is mischievous. “Some men require a Corvette…you know…”

I lower my voice. “I definitely don’t require a Corvette.”

She snorts, like it’s all so ridiculous, but dusky rose spots seem to heat her cheeks and it’s…compelling. We shouldn’t have dressed her up in these strange new clothes. It’s making me forget that she’s Tabitha Evans, the most annoying human being that I know. And I’m still stuck on the engagement detail. Who was he? What happened?

“Come on, you’re not cooperating,” she says. “Also? I don’t believe that you don’t have a dream. I don’t buy it.”

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