I Knew He Was A Billionaire, I Let Him Pretend To Be Poor Chapter 02

I Knew He Was A Billionaire, I Let Him Pretend To Be Poor Chapter 02

Nolan and I made it official. In name, at least.

He moved into my apartment, but I wasn’t worried he’d try anything.

I’d sensed his condescension for me from the start.

We came from different worlds. Of course he looked down on me.

“I respect you,” he said. “I’ll take the couch.”

I brought him a pillow and a blanket.

When I got home the next day, I expected him to be gone.

One night in a place like mine should’ve been enough to send him running.

He was still there.

The second I walked in, he sat up on the couch and pointed at the table.

“Some customer ordered this and cancelled. Didn’t feel right tossing it, so I brought it back for you.”

That caught me off guard. “Thanks,” I said.

He sat down next to me.

“You don’t have to be so polite all the time. It’s just food.”

I smiled and picked up a fork.

Barbecue chicken over rice, a few chicken skewers, and vanilla pudding.

I’d rarely eaten this well before, so I ate slowly.

After a full day of work, there was hot food waiting for me. Food I never would’ve spent money on for myself.

And someone sitting next to me, talking.

It was nothing like the blur of numb, grinding days I was used to.

People make themselves miserable wanting things that were never theirs.

They convince themselves that’s what happiness looks like.

I’d figured that out a long time ago. I didn’t expect anything from anyone.

Anything extra was a bonus I didn’t ask for.

He watched me eat and kept talking.

“So, Mara, where’d your name come from? Your mom pick it? Your dad?”

I swallowed and thought about it. “I don’t know.”

He wasn’t letting it go.

“How do you not know? Go ask.”

“My parents are dead,” I said. There wasn’t a gentler way to put it.

Nolan froze.

I didn’t want him to feel bad. I didn’t want him to leave.

So I lied. “I’ll ask my uncle sometime. He’d know.”

I paused. “After my parents died, his family took me in. They were good to me.”

“What about yours? Who picked it?”

The tension left his face, just like I’d hoped.

“Mine? My grandpa picked it. The guy’s ridiculous. He actually paid some fancy naming consultant and everything.”

I laughed. “Then you must be destined for great things.”

Nolan snorted.

“Yeah, right. Look at me. I’m a delivery guy.”

“You’re a good guy, you’re good-looking, and your family clearly adores you. You deserve a good life.”

Nolan rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

“Okay.”