Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Nadia Lee Page 0,17
that will prove…what? That you suck in bed?”
“What are you talking about?” He flips the phone so the screen’s facing him. His complexion is now more reddish purple. “You’re such a bitch. How did you fake…like you weren’t into me?”
When I roll my eyes this time, I can almost see my hairline. “Aaron, boredom isn’t what women fake in bed. It’s orgasms, and they’re just trying to get you to stop whatever it is you’re doing. Here, I’m not even bothering. It’s really for your own good that you don’t release this thing. I mean, unless you want everyone to know how good you aren’t in bed.”
Now even the tips of his ears are scarlet. “Yeah, well… I’m going to anyway, unless you marry me. I have no choice. I’m entitled to the money!”
I shake my head. I’m never dating a guy because of amazing dance moves again.
“And I’ll make it look like your dad sent it to his students. And the loudest, bitchiest mothers in the PTA. I can do that, you know! Make it look like the video came from his email address.”
Hot anger shoots through me, and I finally yank my arm free. “You can’t do that! It’s not possible.”
Aaron can probably guess what my papa’s email address is, but he doesn’t know the password. Or how to access the server.
“Sure I can. Haven’t you gotten spam from your own address telling you to send a couple of Bitcoins unless you want your porn-watching habits to be revealed to everyone on your contact list?”
My body seems to chill a couple of degrees. I have gotten a few of those. The first time it happened, I panicked and called my cousin Diego, who’s an IT consultant. He laughed and told me anybody can mask their email address to look like it came from some other account. He even said it was pretty easy, but the rest of the explanation sort of flew over my head because it was too technical.
But one thing’s for certain—Aaron knows how to do what Diego talked about. And he’s rich enough to hire a PI to get PTA and student email addresses.
“Isn’t your dad up for a teacher of the year award?” Aaron continues. “And retiring soon? Be a shame to go out on that note.”
Papa’s not only dedicated, but spends lots of money and hours of his free time helping his students. If anybody deserves the award, it’s him. Even if the school district can prove that it wasn’t him who sent the video, the publicity could affect the award.
And that’s not all. I’d bet all my Givenchy shoes and dresses that it’d make the news, because some asshole PTA member would go to the media about it instead of waiting for the outcome of the investigation. It’d be deeply humiliating for my parents. High school kids can be insensitive jerks, and the comments and whispers might be too much for Papa to bear, much less angry phone calls and conferences with irate parents and administration.
This is Papa’s last year teaching. He deserves to retire with honor and dignity.
“You are such a dick,” I say, trying not to show my panicked anxiety. I refuse to give Aaron the satisfaction.
“Well, you know. When you give great dick, eventually it just…takes over.” He does a pelvic thrust with a smirk, then straightens. “Look, I’m being nice here.”
“Uh, I don’t think secretly filming someone having sex—or blackmailing them—counts as being… Wait a minute. Did you also record Sonia?”
“Yeah. So?” He scowls and loses focus for a moment. Maybe he’s wondering if Sonia looks bored in her video, too. “She’s sweeter than you. She caved when I told her I’d send it to her dad.”
Sweeter. Her dad isn’t funding her five-figure-a-month lifestyle so she can be a porn star. But that explains her behavior. I close my eyes for a moment. “Look, I can’t just up and marry you. My family’s going to wonder, and everyone will grill me. You know one of my cousins has a law degree, right?”
“Yeah. So I’m going to be nice because I’m not a bitch like you.” His tone says he’s doing me a huge favor. “I’ll give you a week to convince your family you’re in love with me.”
It’d be easier to convince them I was going to help the Virgin Mary open a high-tech whorehouse in Amish country. “I don’t even have a ring,” I say sarcastically.
He pulls a sapphire ring out of his pants pocket. “Here. It