¿cómo Soy Tan Rico? Novels & Stories

Whenever he is drunk, he is vulnerable and honest, e. "Hmm," "Why do you have so much money?" He chuckled, "Why, you want some?" "I'm serious here." His eyes are still closed and he doesn't look like he could still think straight at his state. I know that I am taking advantage of him right now to know the truth, but I was just really curious. I hope he won't regret answering me tomorrow. "I'm rich," My eyes widened as he spoke. "I have a lot of money ..." I swallowed and secretly approached him because his voice was page by page.

Instead, I turn back to Rico and resume lying on his chest. "How much do you need to get lost? Name your fucking price, bitch. I know girls like you are always after money and good looks. Is a million dollars sufficient for you?" I lowly chuckle at his absurd words. Does this idiot think he can afford me? I have billions in my account, and I haven't even touched Dad's money yet, what is a mere million?

Welbeck sat behind the wheel of his brand-new Lamborghini, muttering to himself about how powerful he was going to be as the Quadrillionaire himself. He had always dreamed of becoming wealthy and powerful, and now that he was on his way to achieving his goal, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. As he sped down the highway, his mind raced with ideas and plans for his future empire. He envisioned himself as the mastermind behind a vast network of businesses, each one generating billions of dollars in revenue every year.

Still, I don’t want him to think I’m cheap, so I glare at him and say. “Money, Mr. Klein, I would assume you know that’s what we exchange for goods and services since you have a ridiculous amount.” “I am obscenely rich.” He says with a devilish smirk. “Obviously and it is truly a travesty that you get to live in such luxury while the rest of us live like paupers.” He licks his lips, making butterflies go crazy in my stomach. “You certainly don’t look like you’re lacking.” He says. “Oh, but I am. Which is why I must sue you.” He eyes me, amused.

I protested, though I could feel the heat rising to my face again. “Oh, I bet it’s exactly what I think,” Sophia teased. “Does he have a secret lair? Or a dungeon? Come on, give me the details.” I rolled my eyes. “His house is—” I paused, searching for the right words. “Massive. Like, unimaginably huge.” Sophia snorted. “Sure, Alessia. Massive, huh? Like, he has a big living room or something?” “No, I mean it,” I insisted. “He’s… he’s really rich, Sophia. Like, crazy rich. I’m talking designer everything, multiple cars, a private chef—”

I said, looking down at the table and rocking from side to side to the music that was being played. "When you are rich, I guess not many things apply to you, which I find annoying. I mean, tax the rich. Hold them accountable." "Says the very few that don't know what it is like to be rich." "What are you trying to say?" Jake asked instead of ordering, giving me an intense look. 'Oh, Jake. That won't work on me.'

he shoots back at me. My heart races as he demands compensation. As it is, I can hardly make ends meet, and I would have to go deeper in debt to fulfill his demand. But even the thought rebels in my heart. He's obviously rich, from the way that he's dressed, and the way he wears his wealth like a personality trait. Wordless for a moment, I glare at him before finding my voice.

Yet ironically it doesn’t make a difference to me, I am just shocked by all this splendor and riches. “How on earth?” I spit out in between staring at the gardens and the house. Finally saying something he asks thoughtfully, “Do you mean, how did someone who grew up so poor, became so rich?” As he stares at me and waits for my answer. “Yes.” I spit out rather quickly and then can’t help but to continue to stare.

The bastard will be too stingy to pay. “Good for you! He’s hot.” I roll my eyes, “And freaking stingy. The bastard’s hella rich but he doesn’t want to spend a single penny. I mean, who does that? That’s so freakin’ weird!” “Maybe he has a thing about money?” “Doubt it. It didn’t seem like he grew up poor. Really just hates spending money I guess.” “I mean isn’t that how the rich become richer?” “Can we stop talking about him? I’m getting annoyed whenever I remember I treated him to a drink.”

“It’s my car, and I have enough money to buy several countries!” “I won’t debate you on that or even ask you to show any proof of your wealth,” I said, “because I believe you. I do, sincerely.” I swept my hand at him, everyone in the car, and the vehicles ahead of and behind ours. “You have a rich dude’s extravagant style, if you ask me. And you don’t seem like a cheap guy. I myself am a little bit cheap since I came from the less privileged pool, so I’m not going to judge.” “What’s your point?” he snapped, still annoyed.