The Billionaire's Fake Fiance

Chapter Seventeen

"Wow, you can sing?" Richard swindled forward, taking her arm and looking into her eyes.

Jean felt herself stiffen. "Uh, yeah, a little."

He pulled her close to him, "This isn't little. All your keynotes were high, I mean, your pitch and tone, everything-"

"How do you know so much about music? Do you sing, too?"

This was the question he had longed to ignore. Someone asking him about music was like a thousand daggers piercing his heart. "No...no, not anything like that."

She could sense his uneasiness. Deciding to leave him alone on that topic, she sighed. "Oh, okay."

He walked toward a vacant table, pulled out a chair and smiled. She returned his smile with her own cheerful giggle and sat on the chair while he shoved it further near the table. "Thank you, Richie Rich."

She laughed, loud and clear. He sat opposite to her and handed her the menu card. "It's on me. You can have absolutely anything you want."

His words seemed alien to her. No one had ever told her that she could have anything she wanted. All her life, she had been raised under the belief that anything she wanted was bad, and she couldn't have it. This or that, she hadn't had any permission to go after the things she wanted. That was until she had come out of her mother's wing. Without her mother maligning her existence, she was doing just fine. Really.

If she could change anything about her that had descended from her mother, she would happily oblige. Nevertheless, it wasn't a very feasible option to change your looks, she didn't know magic. No matter how much she wished, she couldn't change her flaming hair and warm skin; both the features of Elizabeth Parker.

And also her voice, that sickeningly sweet voice that only manipulated and controlled everything around. Jean hated it.

But she couldn't bring herself to hate music, to hate singing. She loved music, she adored to lose herself in rhythms, take herself higher in pitch, move to the waves of transition and poetry. But her mother was a singer and she loathed the fact that Elizabeth worshipped music with such a cruel and tainted heart.

Jean knew she was a singer. Not famous, not known. She knew she had this inborn quality of understanding music, and she had gotten it from her mother. Thanks to the genes. She never wanted her mother's talent, her looks. Everytime she saw herself in the mirror, she could almost see a tinge of young Elizabeth reflecting fiercely into her eyes. She hated it.

That's why she disliked the way she looked. But her eyes? They were the only feature that weren't like Elizabeth. Her mother didn't have blue eyes, her eyes were black and depthless; shallow just like her. Maybe, she had gotten it from her ancestors or....

Jean didn't like the possibility of it being her father. She didn't even know who the person was. She heard Richard's voice, "Jean."

She toppled down the spiral of memories and looked at him. "I'm...I'm confused. Please order for me?"

He nodded his head, his mouth stretching into a thin line of surprise. She knew he was thinking how dumb she was for not being able to order herself. Like, wasn't she the one who had asked him to take her out to this dinner?

God, he looked so good. His eyes scanned the menu, and he appeared to be in deep thinking. So cute. With his jet black hair tousled on his forehead, she noticed he was sweating. He coughed a few times, and she knew he was nervous. Why? He looked extremely attractive in that cotton shirt and trousers. He practically aced the casual looks.

"Excuse me," He said and in a while, a waiter came to the table, waiting to take the order. "The lady would like a roasted salmon roll, with French fries and also a chicken crust pizza. And I," he pondered for a few moments and then closed the menu with a huff. "I would like the same thing."