Inside Job: A Billionaire Fake Fiancé Romance (Silicon Billionaires) by Alexis Knightly

Author:Alexis Knightly [Knightly, Alexis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-13T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

DAMIEN

I tap my foot impatiently, pressing my phone to my ear. "And why couldn't we let John drive us to this secretive date of yours again?"

A full duffle bag sits on the ground by my feet as I wait in the apartment's parking garage. She said we would be gone the entire weekend and hasn't given me a single hint about where we're going or what we're doing.

It's not that I hate surprises, it's just... that I do. They're uncontrollable. And that sentiment alone goes against my very nature.

"Where's the fun in that?" Hannah's voice spews from the phone, and I jerk my head away before bringing it back to hear the familiar honking of the New York streets coming from her end. "And besides, you offered me your company card for the rental, so I couldn't resist."

I sigh, staring at the rows of luxury cars, many of them mine. "Do you know how many cars I own?"

Twenty-two of them, I don't tell her, each one a different supercar imported from around the world, several a slim few of their kind. Admittedly, I need to take them out more. I've grown accustomed to John driving me everywhere, as it's easier to work on the way to and from the office.

"No... But I know none of them were quite the right fit for this weekend."

"I find that hard to believe." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Well, you at least rented a nice car, yes?"

"Of course. She's a beauty."

"Good. And a nice hotel?"

"Mhmm. I know a pampered royal like yourself couldn't handle anything less."

I roll my eyes, not questioning her suspicious tone. "Are you almost back? I've been standing here for thirty minutes."

Thirty minutes I could've spent sleeping, I think, resisting a yawn.

She demanded we leave early, and it's now the crack of dawn, almost six-thirty in the morning. She must've scheduled my jet for takeoff like I suggested, and we probably have an early flight.

At least we'll beat the traffic to the airport.

"Yep!" she squeals, alarmingly cheerful.

The line dies without a goodbye, and I stare down at my phone, confused, right when a terrible groan booms throughout the garage. It collides and bounces against the walls, invading every corner and hurting my ears. What sounds like a mechanical beast wheezing and gasping for breath follows.

I lift my head, and I immediately wish I hadn't. Because what I see burns a clean hole straight through my eyes.

The most rusted, old, excuse-of-a-truck I've ever seen pulls through the entrance, making its way towards me. I glance around, hoping to see someone else waiting beside me, because that cannot be for me.

But no. There's no one. No one but me and the trash on wheels passing by rows and rows of shiny cars. It couldn't look more out of place with its offensive orange coloring that I can't tear my eyes from, almost as if I'm watching a tsunami on the shorelines of a beach, knowing there's no escaping its impending doom.

As

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