Page 159 of Mexico Can Choke On It
A crooked smile tugs at his lips.
“She insisted the rich would follow whatever they were told was fashionable. They would not question the absurdity of it. They would curtsy to a dog adorned in pearls if that is what was expected of them. She bet me the world would accept a pet heiress. And she was right.”
I’m gaping at him like he just confessed to being an alien. “So you’re telling me this whole operation is basically an elaborate prank?”
“Yes,” he says simply. “One that allows me to remain in her presence. I believe she watches our little performances from whatever realm she now inhabits, and yes, I hope she is laughing at the beautiful madness she created.”
And suddenly I’m not in some grand palace anymore—I’m standing inside someone’s love story.
A ridiculous, eccentric, head-over-heels crazy-ass kind of love that makes you do insane things.
Who am I to judge? An hour ago, I was mentally planning my transformation into a well-mannered, tattoo-free socialite so I could stay in Bryce’s orbit.
“The inheritance is mine alone. But what value does such wealth hold? She was the only treasure I ever yearned for. I would gladly trade every billion she left me for five more minutes in her arms.”
A lump forms in my throat.“I’m really sorry for your loss. She sounds like she was one hell of a woman.”
“She was everything. And she would want to convey to you that this world needs individuals to challenge the status quo. You are exactly the type of person Mr. Sterling needs.”
“Sorry, Nigel, but I’m done. These people can’t be saved from themselves, and I’m tired of trying.”
“Very well. A car has been arranged to transport you to the private airfield, and from there—”
“No.” The word spills out aggressively. “No more jets. No more privilege. Take me into town. I’ll catch a commercial flight like a normal person.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “As you wish.” He extends his white-gloved hand. “Until we meet again, Miss Brinkman.”
I shake it. “I highly doubt that, given my tax bracket, but thank you.”
He turns to leave.
“Nigel, wait.” He pauses, looking back expectantly. “Can you please make sure my clothes get returned? The ones Sebastian Bellini picked out?”
“Of course.”
I take a breath, swallowing what’s left of my pride. “And on my first night here, Imayhave accidentally dropped a multi-million-dollar ruby ring outside my window. Could you find it and return it to Bryce?”
If he’s surprised by this confession, he doesn’t show it. “I shall see to it personally.”
“Thanks for everything, Lord Britchybottom.”
He bows. “My pleasure.”
As his footsteps fade down the hallway, I steal one last glance at the drawing room entrance. A part of me is still hoping—stupidly, so fucking stupidly—that Bryce will come running in.
He doesn’t.
My phone stays silent. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing.
Time to face the hard truth: Billionaire Boy lied to get me into bed.
I grab my duct-taped disaster of a suitcase and force myself to the door, leaving the delusions of grandeur where they belong.
He never wanted me forever.Who would?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BRYCE
