Page 11 of His Weekend Girl
Trixie stared at Grant for a long moment. She wondered how bad the car accident would be if she suddenly socked him. She let out a small breath and opened the glove compartment. A small black box was nestled with the insurance and registration papers. She took it out and opened it.
A brilliant canary yellow diamond solitaire stared back at her. She didn’t know a whole lot about diamonds but she was pretty sure it was the biggest one she’d ever seen. “Oh my God,” she blinked.
“Yes,” Grant glanced over, “not the best or real proposal but you’re officially my fiancée this weekend.”
Despite how mad Trixie was at Grant, she didn’t mind playing that role. She had a few almost engagements, but nothing ever came to fruition. “How much is this ring?”
“Eight hundred thousand,” Grant revealed and Trixie’s jaw dropped, “It’s eight carats, brilliant-cut with perfect clarity. Oneof the rarest diamonds out there. It should fit your perfectly since you told me your ring size the other day.”
When Trixie told Grant her ring size (along with other measurements such as shoe size, jean size, and even bra size), she didn’t think anything of it. She understood he wanted her to play the role and there would be no interruptions or hiccups. “I…I see,” she stammered.
“To show you I’m a man of my word, you can also keep the ring. You can take it back to the jeweler and get the full value of it.” Grant promised. “The sooner you do it, the better it’ll be for you. He’s a longtime friend so he knows the story. He’ll be expecting you come Monday.”
Just when she thought about how nice it would be to marry into a wealthy family, with children she hoped would look and act like J. Cole and not Drake, she was slapped back into the present.
Grand opening, grand closing. “Yes,” she quickly closed the box and put it back into the glove compartment. “The arrangement.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MONSTROUS COULDN’T BEGIN to describe the estate.
As Grant pulled up to the familial home, Trixie estimated it was significantly bigger than his. She could only imagine the number of bedrooms and bathrooms. She wouldn’t be disappointed to hear there was a wine cellar, a tennis court (certainly not a basketball one), staff quarters, and a special room just for gift wrapping.
Wealthy, not rich.
Rich wasn’t as far-fetched nor as far-reaching as it once was. But there were a lot of poor millionaires, Trixie reckoned. Those who were house-poor or investment-poor. Those who had enough money to buy pizza, but maybe not going out to dinner.
And then there were the wealthy – who could afford their homes, their fancy cars, their equally fancy toys, and spoil their children with even more fancy stuff as they attended galas lamenting on poor those less unfortunate than they were.
She had to stifle a groan.
“And here we are,” Grant parked the car, and turned off the engine. He turned to Trixie and stared at her for a minute. Damn, she was beautiful. She was beautiful the night he met her, but she was just simply gorgeous with little makeup. Her full lips were blessed by God Herself and her brown skin shimmered with something he wouldn’t mind messing up the expensive bedsheets.
And that sundress…good googly moogly….that sundress was about to bring him to his knees. She was well-covered. Yet, she showed enough sexiness to make him rethink the whole weekend. He wanted to take her to a hotel and fuck her in every possible position.
No, he thought, if sex happened, great. If it didn’t, she would be a longtime fantasy.
“Wow.” Trixie astonished. As she stepped out of the Ghost, she was floored by the sheer extravagance. A small, winding road led to the shared parking lot (not a driveway because there were too many cars). There were glass front doors and windows. Glass? No blinds or curtains. Certainly, no bars.
She briefly looked down at her attire of a sundress and kitten heels and wondered if she was underdressed. Her clothing came out of the bargain discount stores she frequented on TikTok and at the swap meet.
Grant gave her a stipend to go shopping at Cartier and made sure she told the salesperson he was paying for it. She was treated with mimosas and felt like a princess trying on different jewelry as they catered to her every whim.
Princess.
The pet name stuck and Trixie silently hoped to hell no other man would ever call her that.No, this was a weekend and that’s it.She was going to play pretend fiancée and then go back home to her life. Technically speaking, she was a millionaire herself.
She suddenly created a new category for herself – she wasn’t in the Have Not’s but she was now a firm member of the Want to Have More’s.
She would worry about all of that later. She was given quite a bit of money to play Grant’s girlfriend…erm,fiancée…and she didn’t want him to change his mind and they both would’ve had a bad weekend.
“This is where you grew up?” She asked.
Grant began to unload the pricey luggage bags he spontaneously purchased on the way to his parents’ estate. The moment he saw Trixie had a backpack that had seen better years, he insisted he upgrade her. She didn’t even try to fight it. He currently held her Louis Vuitton luggage. “More or less. There was a lot of extensive work done over the years, but it’s the same in many ways.”
Trixie shook her head in amazement, disgust, and disbelief, with a twinge of jealousy. She couldn’t imagine growing up without struggle. Hell, she couldn’t imagine being an adult without struggle. She wanted to be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure how long the monetary gift Grant gave her would last a long time.
Sure, she could sell the massive ring on her finger but she was astounded at how quickly she had already gotten used to it. And if she wanted to be real, she would probably never have a ring like that ever again. But if she needed the money, that fantasy was going to have to be put on the backburner.
