Faking It With a Billionaire || MaAn

Chapter 11 | Anupama

Anuj wasted no time whisking us off to New York City. It's like he gave me a measly night and a morning to bid farewell to my buddies and pack my stuff before swooping in at my apartment this afternoon, nagging me to hurry the hell up so we don't miss our flight.

I ain't gonna waste my breath arguin' with him. So what if he's the big shot ownin' the damn jet? Can't he be fashionably late like the rest of us? 

Now, let me tell you, I never knew what it felt like to be dirt poor. My family did what they could to scrape together a livin', livin' paycheck to paycheck. We may not have been swimmin' in cash, but we were rich in love and takin' care of each other. I didn't go without much growin' up. Sure, I had my eyes on that fancy three-story Barbie Dreamhouse, but I had what I needed, and most of what I wanted. I was a happy camper, even if my family wasn't rollin' in dough.

Them first few months post-college were like livin' in the poverty lane, I tell you. Survivin' off them cheap ramen noodles and discounted knockoff snacks that were one step away from the trash bin. It was like livin' the quintessential New York struggle, if you ask me. 

Leastwise, that's what my college kid version of the New York lifestyle looked like.

Standing in the grand foyer of Anuj's luxurious penthouse, it finally hits me how outrageously wealthy he is. It should've been obvious from the get-go that he resided in the heart of Manhattan. A tiny studio apartment here costs a fortune, easily three times what we paid back in LA for a spacious three-bedroom. And then there's the matter of the high-tech security system, with Anuj swiping a keycard and pressing that sleek glowing PH button in the elevator. 

It's no surprise that he calls a penthouse home, and let me tell you, it's the most jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring space my eyes have ever beheld.

"You planning on doing something besides staring?" Anuj's strides reverberate on the glossy black marble floor as he reaches an opulent gold entryway table, nonchalantly placing his wallet and keycard into a designer ceramic bowl. 

Meanwhile, I remain rooted to the plush carpet inside the elevator, caught in a momentary stupor. The doors chime three times in warning, threatening to seal me inside. With a startled yelp, I lunge forward, narrowly escaping a purse-drop disaster as I squeeze through the narrowing gap. 

A mischievous smirk tugs at Anuj's lips as he stands in the center of the room, his fingers effortlessly curling around the handle of my suitcase. His eyes never leave me, studying my every move with unwavering attention.

"Well, ain't you a real knight in shining armor," I retort, dripping with sarcasm."

I had faith in your self-sufficiency," he quips, striding ahead, passing an impressive staircase. He glances back, his voice trailing behind. "C'mon, let's get outta this joint."

I chuckle, shaking my head as I approach the staircase. The sleek glass siding reveals a set of white stairs adorned with lavish gold metal accents. The whole setup screams modern elegance and screams even louder with the price tag. "I gotta say, I've never heard the word 'joint' used in that particular context."

Anuj strides past an expansive dining table, his hand still gripping the handle of my unimpressive suitcase as he rolls it alongside a majestic table. The sudden movements cause my worn-out duffle bag to teeter precariously on top of the suitcase. I can't help but gape in sheer awe at the table that stands beside my belongings. It appears to be crafted from some exquisite black stone, surely bearing a fancy name. Its sheer weightiness is remarkable, leaving me pondering how many hands it took to transport it up here. "Gallery..." I mutter, testing the word on my tongue. It feels peculiar using it to describe a mere room within a residence.