Page 35 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
His eyes gleam. "I can pursue her?"
A growl rips from me. Anger twists my guts. Only when my hands knit in his collar, do I realize I've crossed the floor to him.
He smirks. "Someone's edgy."
I draw my fist back, "Shut the fuck up."
"Wanna try to hit me, Sin?" His tone is pleasant.
It wouldn't be the first time. Fucker knows how to get under my skin good. I smooth my palm down his collar.
"Nope, old chap." I pat his shoulder. "Actually, I do need your help."
"Hmm?" He frowns.
"Summer will be shadowing me for the next seven days to get in-depth information for the social media strategy."
"Oh, yeah?" He snickers. "Is that a euphemism for what you have in mind?"
I ignore it, "She also has a sister."
Saint straightens, "Oh?"
"Who’s unwell, asswipe."
He tilts his head. "And you want me to what? Play nanny?"
Damian pipes up. "Technically that would make him a Manny."
"What?" I shoot him a sideways glance.
He shakes his head. "You should keep up with the trends. Not that this is something new or anything. Oh, wait." He snaps his fingers, "Not that you would be aware of that either, huh?"
"I leave those pursuits up to you, Pretty Boy." I turn to Saint, "Can you send your chauffeur to pick her up and move her to my Hampstead Heath apartment?"
His eyebrows knit, "You're taking care of her family? What next? Pay off her debts."
I narrow my gaze.
"And what will you be doing during this time?" Saint curves his hand, makes a pumping motion.
"None of your goddamn business."
I turn to the man on my right, "Doc?"
Weston straightens.
"The sister also has a heart condition, and considering that's your specialization, will you check her out, find out how bad it is?"
