Pay Up Hot Stuff: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Romance Read online

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I bet Ashton knows the grocery store is open twenty-fours.”

  I had been put in my place. “Fair enough. The bathroom is through there.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t move.

  “I’ll help you.”

  Her eyes widened. “No, you absolutely will not help me.”

  “I’ll help you to the door. I won’t actually go in with you. Unless you want me to.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  I nodded. “All right.”

  I carefully led her across the room to the bathroom. She stopped at the door. “Oh my god, this is the bathroom?”

  I looked around. “Yes. Do you not have indoor plumbing at your house?”

  She turned to look at me with the most disgusted expression. “Your bathroom is bigger than my apartment.”

  I couldn’t resist. “This isn’t my bathroom. This is the guest bathroom. My bathroom is bigger.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I can take it from here—unless I get lost.”

  I smirked and stepped away. “I’ll wait out here.”

  “No!”

  I frowned, puzzled. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

  “Absolutely not! What is wrong with you?”

  “I can’t let you walk around,” I said. “You’re not supposed to be up.”

  “Go stand over there then.”

  I did what she asked. There was no point in trying to argue. I had a feeling she would always have a comeback.

  I leaned against the wall and thought about the very little I had learned about her. She was poor. I knew that much. I actually felt bad for her. She was struggling to get by and working fourteen-hour shifts. There was no way she was going to be able to pay for the damage to my car.

  The door opened. She was white as a ghost as she leaned against the doorframe. I immediately rushed to her aid.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m a little weaker than I thought.”

  I didn’t wait for her to tell me not to do it. I bent down and picked her up. She protested but it was a very weak protest. I imagined it was because she didn’t have the energy. I carried her to the couch and helped fluff the pillows behind her.

  “You good?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that. I just got really dizzy.”

  “No need to apologize,” I said. “Did you ever eat the sandwich?”

  “What?”

  “Did you eat the sandwich? You said you were reaching for your sandwich.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t.”

  “So, you haven’t eaten since when?”

  “Um, yesterday.”

  “I’ll order a pizza.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I have to feed you,” I insisted.

  “I don’t have money to pay for it.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  I ordered the pizza and sat at the kitchen island and checked email. I forgot she was even there until I heard the door buzz. After paying for the pizza, I dished up two slices for her and delivered it to her on the couch.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’d offer you some wine or a beer, but the doctor said no alcohol.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you so much for this. I am starving.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I left her to eat on the couch while I went back to the kitchen. It was a little weird to have a stranger in the house. I went back to check on her after it had been quiet for a bit. I hadn’t heard her say she was sorry in a good twenty minutes. That was a new record.

  I stopped when I saw her head slumped to the side and her eyes closed.

  “Shit.” I reached out to touch her to make sure she was still alive. She jerked, her blue eyes opening wide. “Sorry,” I said and realized I just used her word.

  “It’s fine.”

  “I’ll take your plate. Do you want to go to bed?”

  “What?”

  “Not in my bed, in the guest bedroom.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  I left her alone for five minutes. When I returned, she was passed out once again. I covered her with the quilt and set the timer on my phone for two hours.

  She wasn’t dying on my watch.

  Chapter 4

  Paislee

  I woke up on what felt like a cloud. I stretched and reveled in the comfort of the guestroom bed, which I’d moved to in the middle of the night. It was softer than any bed I’d ever slept in. It was my brush with wealth, and I could see the appeal.

  After waking up, I drank some of the best coffee I’d ever had, and two hours later, I was being ushered home in a limousine with the very attentive Ashton sitting across from me.

  “Are you sure there is nothing else I can do for you?” Ashton asked after he insisted on walking me to my door.

  “No, Ashton, you’ve been so nice. Thank you for all that you did.”

  “Are you absolutely sure? I have no problem taking care of any errands.”

  I smiled at him. “I am good. Thank you. Please tell Jay I’m really sorry about the accident. I will call my insurance agent first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “You don’t worry about anything.”

  I scoffed. “You didn’t wreck a rich guy’s Lambo.”

  He smiled. “No, but I’ve broken plenty of his other expensive toys.”

  “Is he going to kill me?”

  “No. Don’t worry about it. We’ve got it handled.”

  “He made it pretty clear we would be speaking again. Not me, but my insurance guy. Then I’m sure he’ll sick an attorney on me. Well, I’ve got news for him. You can’t get blood from a turnip.”

  “Try not to think about any of that,” he said. “Jay was upset about his car. He may have said some things he didn’t necessarily mean.”

  “Thanks, I hope we don’t see each other again. Not because I don’t like you, but if I’m seeing you, it’s because he’s serving me with papers via you.”

  He laughed. “If that happens, it won’t be me delivering them. Don’t worry. I’ll check in with you later.”

  “My roommate will be home soon.”

  “I’ll still check on you.”

  “Thank you, Ashton.”

  He waited until I walked in before he left. Ashton was a very nice man. I couldn’t quite say the same for his boss. Ashton had a warmth to him that couldn’t be faked. I guessed him to be in his late forties and I supposed I saw him as a father figure. He had salt and pepper hair and wise gray eyes that reminded me of an owl. I liked him, and weirdly enough, I was going to miss the guy.

  His boss, not so much.

  I carefully walked into my bedroom. Our apartment was stupid small. I had not been lying when I said it could have fit into his guest bathroom. The hardwood floors were original to the building that was something like a hundred years old. Unlike hardwood that had been taken care of over the years, our floors were scarred, stained, and ugly as hell.

  “Quit complaining,” I told myself. I sat on the edge of my bed and started to undress. I felt weak as a newborn kitten.

  I was back in my own clothes after sleeping in a pair of borrowed sweats from Jay. He wasn’t exactly a nice man, but he wasn’t mean. He was just kind of reserved and a lot cocky. I supposed being rich and handsome made him that way.

  My shirt for work was ruined. The bloodstain was not going to come out. I dreaded telling my boss. He was a tight-ass and would probably make me pay for a replacement uniform shirt. The other one was faded anyway and needed replacing, but he wouldn’t see it that way.

  Ashton ordered me to stay down for the day, but unfortunately, I didn’t have an assistant to take care of the little things, like the dishes and the laundry. I grabbed some clean clothes and made my way to the shower. Ashton was sweet and sent me home with the bag of toiletries he picked up for me at Jay’s request. Of course, it was all
the good stuff. It wasn’t Suave or whatever I picked up at the Dollar Store.

  I turned on the water and listened to the pipes rock and roll until the water was running clear. The building was old, and little had been done to update it, including replacing the rusty pipes. I took a quick shower. The last thing I wanted to do was pass out and really knock my head again.

  I dressed in my most comfy PJs and made my way into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea and a snack. I was so grateful I was off today. I wasn’t in pain, but I did get woozy from time to time. There was no way I would have been able to stand at my register for twelve hours.

  By the time I sat down with my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I was wiped out. “Damn,” I muttered.

  I had to work tomorrow. I still had to figure out the bus schedule to get there. I was going to have to leave the house much earlier than normal, which was going to be a huge drag. I just hoped I could handle my full shift. I couldn’t afford to call in sick. Hell, I couldn’t afford to only work one shift, but I was going to have to do it anyway.

  I slowly ate my sandwich, finding just chewing exhausted me. The peppermint tea I washed it down with gave me a little boost of energy. Now that I had a little strength, I needed to text Bella. She was not going to be happy I’d waited this long to let her know about the accident.

  Texting was the safest option. I would deal with the face to face soon enough. I quickly sent a vague text. I didn’t tell her the car was totaled. I kept it simple and sweet. She responded with a sad face followed by her relief I was okay.

  I was okay. I got my bell rung, but I was going to be fine. Broke as hell and probably going to end up living on the street, but the rest of me was just fine. I stared at the old TV we had picked up for free off Craigslist.

  I wasn’t much of a daytime television person, and I didn’t have the energy to do much of anything else but sit my butt on the couch. “I’m bored.”

  I rarely had downtime. Two days of doing nothing was making me feel itchy. I had to do something productive. I always complained I never had time to do fun stuff. Now, I had the time. I looked over at the keyboard leaned against the wall. I had not picked the thing up in weeks.

  “Your ticket to financial freedom,” I said with a smile. It was what Bella always told me. I loved to tinker. I wasn’t a musician. I pretended I was a more mature T. Swift. I wasn’t. I wasn’t brave enough to send my music to anyone in the music industry. I was too afraid.

  Instead, I wrote songs that no one would ever hear.

  I got up and grabbed the keyboard. It was another Craigslist find. I paid twenty bucks for the thing and had gotten plenty of use out of it.

  I carried it back to the couch and plugged it in. My notebook with all of my songs in it was stashed in the end table. I pulled it out and opened it up. The pages were wrinkled from being flipped and written on.

  I smiled as I read through the lyrics I’d written about my encounter with a homeless man. It wasn’t a sad ballad. It was more of a funny song. The guy was down on his luck, but his humor was intact. I turned to a clean page and smoothed my hand over it.

  I tapped my pencil on the page, trying to think of what I wanted to say. I let my vision blur as I stared at a spot on the wall. Oddly, it was Jay’s face that came to mind.

  I’d learned through Ashton that Jay was his nickname. His given name was Jameson. Jameson Harrow. The name rang a bell, and at first, I thought I was confusing him with a Hilton. Then I realized the Harrow name was synonymous with luxury resorts. I couldn’t believe I slammed my car into him. A million people on the road and I had to choose his damn car.

  I jotted down a few words. Then it was more tapping. The tapping slowly turned into a beat that my foot began gently tapping along to as well.

  With the rhythm in my head, I grabbed the keyboard and started tinkering. I spent the entire afternoon writing a song about my chance encounter with a prince in disguise.

  No, he wasn’t my prince, but it was fun to fantasize. I was the princess in the ode to Jameson Harrow. In my song, he wasn’t a cocky jerk. He was a hero that saved the damsel in distress. He carried her back to his castle, also known as the mansion he lived in.

  I screwed around until I got a solid first draft. Then I dragged out my laptop, a splurge that I was still suffering buyer’s remorse for, and opened up the recording program.

  I wasn’t a singer. I was a writer, but if I ever planned on selling a song, I had to have someone lay down vocals. It wasn’t like I actually knew any singers and I couldn’t afford to pay someone. That left me.

  I sipped my tea—which was good for my throat—and started the process of recording the song for a second time. I ended up going through it three times before I was finally happy with it.

  I played it back, analyzing every word and keystroke on the piano. “Close,” I said and put the song in the music program. I had fun adding drumbeats and strings.

  When I played it again, I couldn’t stop smiling. It was perfect. Well, as perfect as a novice could manage. My stomach growled and I realized I had worked all day. It was exactly what I had wanted to do for months. I wanted a day to do nothing but play.

  “Here’s to totaling my car and screwing up my entire life.”

  I found a package of ramen for dinner and made yet another sandwich to go with it. It wasn’t exactly a balanced diet, but it filled my belly. As I sat and ate my meal in my modest apartment, I looked around and started doing a mental list of differences between our place and his. I’d always kind of wondered how the other half lived. What I saw on TV didn’t compare to the actual luxury I felt and saw.

  Hell, his place even smelled rich.

  I had never aspired to be wealthy, but some of the creature comforts would be nice. That and the security in knowing rent would never be an issue. There were the haves and the have-nots.

  I had accepted my status as a have-not.

  Chapter 5

  Jameson

  I sat down with the cup of espresso room service had delivered. I no longer suffered from jetlag.

  I had taken to using the family jet for these around-the-world trips. I traveled—a lot. My dad was too old to hit three countries in a week and still keep going. That left it to me to handle all the business in our hotels around the world.

  I could admit the hotel in Rome was my favorite. I loved the city. I loved the vibe and I especially loved the view. And it was one of the smoothest running hotels we owned. That didn’t stop me from checking in as often as I could. It was my escape from the real world.

  I sipped the strong drink and let the caffeine hit my veins while my laptop booted up. I checked the time. It was eight in the morning in Rome. A little math and I determined it was two o’clock in the afternoon back home. I scanned through my emails and quickly read the one from Ashton.

  It was easier to have a conversation than go back and forth via email. I grabbed my phone and called him.

  “Why aren’t you on your way here?” I asked him when he answered the phone.

  “There were things I needed to handle here.”

  “Yeah, I read that. What’s going on?”

  “As I said, the shop called with an estimate for your car.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t tell me how much.”

  He cleared his throat. “Seventy grand.”

  “Damn. That’s bad. Her insurance will cover it.”

  “I’m not sure that it will, not entirely.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? She didn’t have insurance?”

  “She has the cheapest insurance she could buy. Once this claim hits, she won’t be able to afford insurance.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “That sucks.”

  I wasn’t sure why he thought this was a problem for me. I scrolled through the agenda he had sent over for me to review.

  “Jay, I used your name to get some information from the hospital.”

  “Information about what?”

  “Her bill was w
ell over ten thousand dollars and she does not have health insurance. Her car insurance won’t cover the medical costs.”

  I sighed and sat up. I knew Ashton. He was trying to say something without actually saying the words. He knew I hated that. I preferred he just spit it out. “What are you saying?”

  “I took her home yesterday, like you asked. I walked her up all four flights of stairs to her apartment in a building that was a step above a tenement.”

  I nodded, not really paying attention. “And?”

  “Her car is totaled. She works at a job that is barely above minimum wage. She works uptown and lives downtown. Do you know what kind of commute she is looking at? Without a car, she’ll be forced to ride the bus. Several buses.”

  “Ashton, I’ve got a meeting in an hour. Will you have gotten to the point by then?”

  “Don’t be rude.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. Ashton was about the only person, beyond my parents and my sister, that could talk to me like that. “What is it you are trying to tell me?”

  “I’m telling you that you have more than enough money to fix your car. Why do you need to file a claim with her insurance?”

  “Because that’s what you do when you’ve been in an accident.”

  “She can’t afford this.”

  “Ashton, I’m not at fault in this accident.”

  “No, but you have the opportunity to do something good for a person that is down on her luck.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” I asked. “I know you’re going to tell me, so just tell me.”

  “I think it would be better if you let it go. You can handle the expense to fix the car. You won’t even miss the money.”

  I got to my feet and walked to the windows that overlooked the pool. I wasn’t a total asshole, but I thought that was bold. While I was mulling over his words, my phone beeped. I pulled it away from my face and read the text message from my mother. She was setting me up with one of her friends’ daughters.

  “Fuck.”

  “What?” Ashton asked.

  “Nothing. What are we talking about here?”

  “What do you mean?”