Page 74 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
"There you go, inserting yourself in the tableau. Not that I mind." I don’t. Truly. But the rest of it? Yeah, she is right. I mean, no. I mean, yes, I’d wanted all of that, but not with a man I love to hate. And hate to lust after. And want to throttle to within an inch of his life… After he’s given me enough orgasms to keep me high on endorphins, of course.
"Oh," I push my knuckles into my eyes, "What am I going to do, Karma?"
She pulls at the patchwork of her knitting, and the entire thing comes undone. She flings it aside, then crosses the floor to me, "You know what I’m going to say, right?"
I blow out a breath. "What?"
"Show me the money!"
And ain’t that the goddamn truth?
When it comes down to it, that's all that really seems to matter.
It sure does make the world go round; it's what brings grown men to their knees, what buys you the best treatment from the foremost specialist in town, what ensures that you can pursue your dreams, your goals, your ambitions, ensure that you never go to bed hungry, or feel helpless… Okay, maybe not the last.
But nine out of ten times, it is the money that wins out.
And it is why I am going through with this crazy scheme, of marrying this billionaire-bully. I link my fingers together. Damn it, why are my palms sweating?
I pivot to face my sister. "Really? You're scraping the bottom of the barrel if you're referencing Jerry McGuire. It's... waaay too iconic. A child would have guessed it."
"So?" She raises her shoulder and lets it drop.
"Guess what my response is going to be?"
She tilts her head, "Try me."
"Money's something you need in case you don't die tomorrow."
There’s a lesson somewhere in those words, about my life, but damned if I can decipher it.
She purses her lips, "Wall Street? You stooped low enough to quote Wall Street?"
Desperate times and all that... What can I say, huh?
She grips my shoulder. "You’ll be okay, Summer."
"Famous last words."
