Faking It With a Billionaire || MaAn

Chapter 10 | Anuj

Anupama doesn't hold back in expressing her frustration about the unexpected departure tomorrow. I sit on the edge of her bed, observing the chaotic state of her room, as she energetically packs her bags. Everything she does comes with a touch of drama.

With a forceful swing, she flings open the bathroom door, clutching a sizable toiletry bag. Even when she tosses it into her open suitcase, the action is filled with excessive force. Moving to her closet, she scans through the clothes on the hangers, causing them to scrape loudly against the rod. Every now and then, she yanks garments off the hangers and haphazardly throws them onto the bed.

"You do realize you don't need to bring your entire wardrobe, right?" I remark, examining a well-worn sweater that has clearly seen better days. I hold it up by the collar, noting the fraying threads scattered across the worn-out knitting.

Anupama spins around, giving me a sassy glare. Truth be told, I find it more captivating than intimidating. "I need options, Anuj. I can't just wear the same thing every day."

I playfully tug at one of the loose threads on the sweater. "Trust me, we'll hit the New York shops and give your wardrobe a major upgrade. You'll be rocking a whole new style."

Her eyes narrow skeptically. "Yeah, well, I don't have unlimited funds for designer clothes."

As I toss the worn-out sweater onto the bed, I take a moment to compose myself. I know I need to approach this delicately with Anupama. She's fiercely independent and won't take kindly to me offering to buy her clothes, even though I have more money than I know what to do with. But I can't let her show up to work in shabby outfits, with fabric that's more scratchy than cozy.

I step closer to her, my tone gentle yet firm. "Listen, Margo, I insist on buying you new clothes. I have accounts with several stores where you'll find exactly what you need. Just trust me on this one, okay? Let's upgrade your wardrobe and leave that old sweater in the past."

"I ain't some charity case for you to doll up and show off to whoever you damn well please." 

My phone's been ringing nonstop for the past twenty minutes while she's been trying to figure out what to pack. My patience is running thin, and her comment is pushing me closer to the edge of my sanity. I fail to see the point in her wasting time packing things she'll never even wear, considering I'll just buy her a whole new wardrobe anyway. It feels like a pointless endeavor. I rise to my feet, closing in on her until she's cornered in her tiny closet. She tries to escape, but ends up trapped by her own clothes. I look down at her, slightly impressed by the defiance in her eyes. "You're not, and never will be, some project of mine. I didn't mean it that way, and you damn well know it. You'd rather argue than let me do one damn thing for you."

She opens her mouth, ready to unleash her argument skills, but I swiftly cover her lips with my hand before she can utter a word. "Alright, listen up. Here's the deal. You're gonna gather up your essentials, the things that money can't buy you once we hit Manhattan. Anything sentimental or meaningful to you. The rest, you can leave behind, give to your friends, or keep for your future visits. Frankly, I don't give a damn what you do with it. Then we're gonna get the hell out of here. We've got a busy day ahead, with a few stops to make. You can tell your friends you'll catch up with them for a goodbye dinner or hell, even a breakfast tomorrow. And then, we'll be boarding the private jet tomorrow afternoon. Got it?"

I feel her annoyed huff against my palm, her warm breath caressing my skin. It sparks a wicked thought of how her breath would feel against more intimate places, sending a jolt of desire coursing through me. With a swift motion, I withdraw my hand from her lips, reclaiming my composure. "By the way, you could wear a plain old paper bag and still make heads turn."