Page 20 of The Bride and the Billionaire Grump
She smirks. “So, tell me. What is it like to click your fingers and get anything you want?”
“I’m not magic.”
She frowns. “Dang. Now I won’t get my three wishes.”
I lean forward. “What would your wishes be?”
She starts counting on her hand. “World peace, duh. A dog that lives as long as I do.” Her face drops. “A cure for all cancers.”
A pit forms in my stomach. I didn’t expect her to get serious, and from the look on her face, she didn’t either.
“What about you? Or do you already have everything you want?”
I look at Tiffany. I don’t know if I should be truthful or just make something up.
“The only thing I want,” I scooch closer to her, “is you.”
Millie bursts out laughing. “Wow, smooth.”
“I thought you’d like that one.” I pop a grape in my mouth.
“That’s a wrap!” Michael calls out.
“Thank God.” Millie jumps up and dusts sand off her.
“Wow, sorry it was so painful for you.” I feel slightly hurt.
“I’m accustomed to a lavish lifestyle, and this just doesn’t cut it. Where’s the cutlery made of gold? Where’s my servant? Gosh.” She rolls her eyes.
I squint. She’s a puzzle that I want to solve. I know I shouldn’t want to, but there’s something about her that intrigues me.
“Sorry, I left it in my castle. I thought you might be more down to earth.” I try to keep her talking, even if it’s thinly veiled humor.
“I’m offended. How dare you lump me in with the peasants.” She puts her hand over her chest.
I grin. “Apologies, milady. I’ll have the servants sent to your quarters and make sure everything is to your liking.”
I can tell she’s trying not to smile.
She walks toward the hair and makeup tent. “Have fun with your harem.”
“Open invitation for you to join!” I yell after her.
Tiffany smiles at Millie as she walks by her and gives me a questioning look.
I shrug at her. I think she’s equally as confused about Millie as I am.
On the surface, she’s infuriating and self-centered, but it feels like there’s more to it than that.
My phone beeps. Another crisis has arisen. The last thing I need is to be stuck on more dates today. I need to sort this out.
“Tiff, what are the chances of me not doing the rest of the dates today?” I ask.
She lowers her glasses. “About as much chance as I have at marrying an NFL player.”
I pretend to count on my hand. “Those seem like good odds.”
“Flattery, while appreciated, will not get you out of this. Nice try, though.”
