And people say women are complicated. All I want to do is get laid, and this guy is a ball of insecurity and clearly some flavor of mentally ill.
“Grace, seriously, I’m a billionaire. I run a hedge fund,” he continued, wrapping a silk tie around his neck.
“Then why do you live here?” I blurted out, still not believing what was happening.
Chris chuckled. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t a gold digger. I appreciated that you run your own business and work hard. I don’t want some woman in my life who’s just going to mooch off my money.” He fastened his cuff links then pulled on his jacket. Then he combed back his hair in the mirror.
“It was a test,” he said to my reflection. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t just want me for my money. Which you don’t. So it’s perfect!” He turned around to fasten on his wrist a watch that cost more than the building we were in. “You passed! Congratulations! You can now date me.”
“Uh no.”
“You still don’t believe me?” He took a magazine out of the wardrobe and flipped to a page.
“See?”
I peered at it. Chris Winchester. Hedge fund wunderkind. Net worth three billion.
Motherfucker.
“You…you…”
He wrapped an arm around my waist. “There’s a limo waiting downstairs. I have dinner for us planned at a restaurant at the top of another tower I own.”
I threw him off and screamed, “You lying sack of shit!”
2
Chris
Ijerked back.
Grace was furious! Her glasses had slid down her nose, and she was a ball of indignation.
“Why are you mad at me?” I exclaimed. “I said you passed the test!”
“I took off work for this garbage,” she snarled. “I have five brides waiting for their pictures, and you are wasting my time with mind games.”
“I have a right to make sure that you’re not a gold digger,” I said, annoyed that she wasn’t ecstatic that she had passed my test.
“And I have a right,” she said, jabbing a finger at me, “to tell you that you’re a sorry little man-child.”
She threw the magazine at me.
“I’m a billionaire!” I picked up the magazine. “See? It says it right here. I’m the next biggest thing.”
Grace didn’t care. Instead she turned and stomped out of the apartment.
I ran after her, trailing her down the stairs.
“Any other woman in Manhattan would be jumping at the chance to date me,” I informed her.
She stopped abruptly on the landing. “I willneverdate you, Chris Winchester, and I pity the woman who ends up married to you.” She hurried down the rest of the stairs. The limo driver opened the door as Grace hurried past him on the sidewalk.
“We have champagne and—”
“Use it to drown Chris with,” she snapped at him.
“Grace!” I ran after her and reached for her.
