A Billionaire Fake Marriage (Complete)

Chapter 3

" Chloe POV "

“That’s such a lovely dress, Chloe. You look beautiful.”
My grandmother’s voice was filled with emotion, and hearing it, my heart contracted. God, I loved her.

I’d been fighting the urge to burst into tears all week.
I’d talked to the bureaucrats in charge of property tax payments more than five times.

Each time, I shelved my pride and flat out pleaded for an extension. But their answers had been the same. 

You’ve had plenty of extensions. Time’sup.

Like a coward, I still hadn’t told my grandmother the news.
How could I? Nelia Anderson had been on a pension when her daughter had given birth and skipped out on her newborn child. She’d sacrificed everything to take care of me.

Falling behind on her property taxes - that was all my fault.

And I couldn’t fix it. The moment I found out about the ballooning debt, I’d abandoned plans for college.

I’d found a job as a receptionist in a law office, and I’d used every bit of spare money I earned to try to chip away at the two-hundred-thousand dollar tax payment.

But receptionists don’t make a lot of money, and my contributions had barely made adent.

I’d hoped - in vain - that the city would see my payments as a sign of good faith. 

They hadn’t. In eighty-three days, we’d be out on the streets. My grandmother would lose her childhood home. It was hard to breathe through the guilt Ifelt.

“You bought me the fabric,” I said, smiling fondly at her.

I couldn’t let her see my worry. The emerald green silk fabric had been a birthday present last year.

“And you taught me how to sew.”

Her hand traced the outline of my cheek.

“You don’t dress up often,” she said.

“You should. You spend too much time with me.”

I laughed. “You’re far better company than most people I know.”

Her hands expertly gathered my hair into a bundle, and she started pinning the strands in place.

She’d been a hairdresser in her youth, and a seamstress, and so much more.

When I was a child, I thought my grandmother could do everything. She’d been my personal superhero.

“Where are you off to tonight?” she asked.

“Dave wants me to go to a gala with him.” I made a face.

Dave had received invitations to the De Luca & Partners spring bash, and he had plans of making some kind of protest at the venue.

As always, I had wanted no part of it. I thought it was shockingly rude to go to a party and insult the hosts.

But of course, Dave didn’t know how to take no for an answer, and I was never very good at standing up to him.

“I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“I don’t like that boy.” My grandmother’s eyes met mine in the mirror.

I grinned at her label.
Dave was a grown man in his thirties, but to my grandmother, he was a boy, and I would always be her little girl.

“Why not?” Though she was very protective of me, she generally didn’t voice an opinion of my friends unless I asked.

“He uses you. He never stops to think about what you want. It’s always about him. His needs.”

Nothing escaped my grandmother’s notice.

“Dave’s very preoccupied with stopping De Luca Towers from being built,” I said, trying to defend my ex-boyfriend.

“Self-absorbed,” she scoffed.
“Is he picking you up?”

I winced. Grandma wasn’t going to like my answer.

“No. He had to go to some other meeting, and he didn’t want to come back to get me. I told him I’d just meet him downtown.”

Her face creased into a frown.

“In this dress?” she asked, looking at my full-length gown.

“Tell me you are taking a cab.”

Cabs cost money, and we didn’t have any. But telling her that would set off an argument, and I didn’t want that.

“Yes,” I lied to her. “I am.”

“Good.” She finished her magic and stepped back to survey my hair critically.

“What do you think?”

The woman in the mirror looked like a different person. More glamorous, more poised, more serene.

“I think it’s perfect,” I said. I stood up and drew my grandmother into a hug.

“Thank you, grandma.”

“Promise me you won’t spend the entire evening doing what Dave wants.” Her voice softened.

“At your age, you should be out dancing, living life, meeting men who will dote on you.
Not wasting it on a selfish boy and an old woman.”

“Time with you is never wasted,” I said, leaning my face into her shoulder.

“And I don’t seem to have very much luck in the dating men department.”

As I spoke those words, Christian Giovanni De Luca’s face swam into view in my mind.
He would be at the party tonight. At the prospect of meeting him and talking to him, my skin prickled with excitement.

For some reason, when I thought of him, I felt shaky, tremulous. Entirely unlike myself.

And I wasn’t used to the sensation.

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