Page 9 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

I swipe my card at the barriers, run down another flight of steps onto the platform as my train pulls into the station. I jump into the first open doors and collapse into a seat. Sweat beads my forehead; my hair is plastered to my cheek. I bend over, gasping. Close call. The woman opposite stares at me, wide-eyed. I meet her gaze and she promptly looks down at her Kindle.

Yep. One good thing about the tube in London, most people avoid eye contact. The anonymity that this city affords is precisely why I love it… and hate it. I slump against the barrier on my right.

It means no-one cares how I dress, or what I eat, or do for a living. It is why no one gives a shit about my sister lurching closer to her grave every day.

Nope, not gonna happen, not on my watch. I am going to find a way out of this mess. I am. At the next station, I check my phone. There's a new email in my inbox.

From: Meredith Vincent

To: Summer West

Dear Ms. West,

Your appointment to pitch for the innovative marketing strategy for 7A Investments is confirmed.

Mr. Sterling, our CEO, will see you at 9am, tomorrow.

Address is below.

Pls confirm your acceptance of the meeting by reply.

Yours sincerely,

Meredith Vincent

Executive Assistant

Wow! Okay. Did I write to 7A investments asking to pitch for their account? I don't remember it. I frown, toss my head. Doesn't matter.

This is my chance. It is an opportunity to salvage my future and I am not going to turn it down. I type out my acceptance, hit reply, then drop my phone into my shoulder bag.

I am going to get this account, if it is the last thing I do.

The train pulls into Mill Hill East tube station, and I step off.

The phone dings again with a text message.

Isla: Soooo sorry, had a work emergency. You know how it is with us wedding planners...

Me: Now you tell me! You got me into so much trouble you biatch!

Isla: What... what? Did you meet someone at the bar?

Me: No, I didn't. Is that all you can think of and... hold on... you wouldn't do that to me, eh?

I huff.

Me: Would you?

Isla: What are you talking about?

Me: You stood me up on purpose?

Isla: Moi? What are you talking about?

Me: So help me Isla, if I find out you did this to me...

Isla: Is he that hot?