The Alpha Billionaire's Fake Mate
"It's not charity, a partnership."
"It's a pity," I turned to face him, "and I don't need anyone's pity, not anymore."
Something flickered across his face, hurt maybe, but he nodded.
"Okay," he said, "then what's the plan?"
Before I could answer, my office door burst open.
Maya stood there in her little purple jacket, mud on her sneakers, her dark hair falling loose from the braid I'd done this morning.
Five years old, but her eyes looked older sometimes, too knowing for a kindergartener.
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