Chapter 7: Playing House and Setting Limits

"Come massage my waist."

I hugged a pillow to my chest, turning away from him with a whine.

"I can’t just spend money for nothing."

A big hand pressed to my lower back, kneading gently.

"I’ll pay you back," he said, voice firm behind me.

“Mm, I did the math: jacket, $1,500—basically a month’s rent in Brooklyn; shirt, $500; pants, $2,000; shoes, $600; underwear, $50.”

His hand paused. “When do you want me to pay you back? Oh, and last night’s hotel was $400.”

“You…” He pinched my waist hard.

I gasped softly.

I rolled over and pinned him, wickedly grinning. “I know you don’t like being kept, but can you afford it? Marcus, I just want to have some fun, so what? As a rich girl, I want to keep you, and you don’t want to?”

With a twist, he flipped me beneath him.

“I don’t want to,” he said, voice muffled.

After he said that, I kissed him hard.

“You don’t what?”

Marcus said, word by word, “I do.”

Alright. I kissed him again, and he turned bright red.

“You should’ve said so earlier. I already had the housekeeper pay off your grandma’s hospital bills.”

His look grew more complicated, like he couldn’t figure me out.

After a while, he finally just kept massaging my waist.

I kissed the corner of his mouth again. “In three years, we’ll end this.”

He went quiet…

Because in the original plot, three years from now, the main guy and girl get married.

And as the disposable side girl, I’d go bankrupt and end up on the street.

I really can’t see a way out. Didn’t they say our family had billions?

How come, when it collapses, it just collapses.

After breakfast, we both dressed.

When Marcus came out of the bathroom, looking uneasy, my eyes lit up.

Geez, what a waste if this body doesn’t become a male model…

I stifled a grin, making a mental note to snap a photo for my private album before the world turned upside down again.