Beloved Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy #3) - Lauren Rowe Page 0,16

drug cartel would have been preferable to telling him I fell head over heels for the asshole CEO of River Records, and that, unfortunately, that asshole sneaked off and had sex with a movie star, and now thinks he can buy my trust and affection by paying off my student loans.”

Okay, I realize a whole lot of what Georgina said wasn’t good for me. Particularly, the part where she’s still convinced I had sex with Isabel. Also, it’s not ideal she called me an asshole. But I can’t focus on negativity when Georgina started her diatribe with the amazing words: I fell head over heels for the CEO of River Records. During our magical week together, Georgina and I never said we were “falling” for each other. We said we felt “addicted.” And that we were “crazy about” each other. We said we liked each other “so damned much.” But we never once said “I’m falling for you”—which, of course, is a close cousin of “I’m falling in love with you”—which, in turn, is only one tick shy of “I love you.”

“So, how’d you explain the loan getting paid off, if you didn’t say you were a drug mule?”

“Well, since my father wasn’t buying the cancer charity anymore, I told him the head of River Records is an eccentric billionaire who loves doing random acts of kindness. Which is actually kind of true. So, I told him you’d paid off my student loans, along with the student loans of Zasu, the other reporter working on the special issue.”

I scoff. “And he bought that?”

“No. He’s not a moron. Don’t insult my father’s intelligence.”

I laugh. “You’re the one who told him the lie. Not me.”

“I’m his daughter. I’ve been insulting my father’s intelligence since I was sixteen and putting pillows under my covers to make it look like I was in bed, fast asleep, when I’d actually sneaked out a window to go to a party.”

I chuckle heartily. “You were Ferris Bueller. Oh, God. Please tell me you know that reference.”

“Of course.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘of course’ when it comes to you and pop culture references. Did you put pillows under your covers a lot, little Miss ‘Sneaky’ Ricci?”

“Probably, like, ten times. And it always worked like a charm. Until it didn’t. Hoo-boy, the day I finally got caught wasn’t a good one.”

I laugh, and so does Georgie, which then makes every cell in my body electrify with excitement. Hope. Love. “I’m not a billionaire, by the way.”

“Huh?

“You told your dad an ‘eccentric billionaire’ paid off your loans. I’m not a billionaire. Give me twenty years and I will be, though.”

“You’re a millionaire, though, right?”

“About five hundred times over.”

“Why are you correcting me on this? Isn’t it ‘on-brand’ for the world to think you’re a billionaire?”

My stomach tightens. “I’m not ‘on-brand’ with you, Georgina, and you know it. I’m just me.”

She’s silent on the other end of the line, tacitly admitting she knows I’m speaking the truth.

“Georgie, I know you don’t trust me as far as you can throw me—which I’m sure would be out a third-story window, if you could swing it—but, please, come home. Sleep in the blue room, while we work this out. My house feels so empty without you. My heart feels like it’s rubbing against a cheese grater. Come home.”

“I can’t do that. I’m way too hurt. As sad as it is for me, I think we should agree to be friends and business colleagues, and nothing more.”

I scoff. I can’t be Georgina’s friend and business colleague. Not in a million years. I want every inch of this woman. But, hey, at least she’s not telling me to fuck off and die. And she did say it would be “sad” for her to be nothing but my friend.

She says, “Thank you for paying off my student loans. I appreciate it. But don’t you get it? It doesn’t change anything between us because I was never with you for your money. We could have been staying in a mud hut for a week, or a rundown motel, and I still would have fallen for you. We could have been eating Taco Bell for every meal, taking hikes with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or working out at some local gym filled with nothing but soccer moms. And I still would have fallen for you. It still would have been the best week of my life. A fairytale.” Her voice cracks. “Because I would have been with you.”

Oh,

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