BETROTHED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

CHAPTER 17

John gets down and runs to the other side to open the door for her. She thanks him with a smile and climbs in beside me, a feminine cologne wafting past my nose and making me snap my head to look at her.

She is wearing a baby blue long sleeves bodycon midi dress with high heels and her straight hair packed in a low bun, exposing the silver butterfly earring on both ears.

Elegant is the word. Simple.

I never thought Valerie could be this pretty. I guess that first impression does last forever.

"Do I look good?" Her question jerks me out of my reverie and I nod before looking away.

"Too good?" I can sense the smirk in the tone.

"Yeah."

"That's the plan. Simple but good."

The last time I checked, Valerie and I went to bed last night after another argument and she doesn't expect that I will be complimenting her now like the world's most beautiful woman when we can switch to our argument mood in seconds.

"Why are you late?" I don't need to tell John to take off before he does. The car roars to life and he reverses backward to take the gate out.

The car drives out and I realize Valerie isn't answering my question. I turn to face her.

She sees me watching her with a raised brow. She shrugs nonchalantly and replies. "Just putting a finishing touch to my look."

My forehead creased in confusion. "Finishing touches?" I have to examine her face more appropriately to be sure I know what I am thinking.

She doesn't have elaborate makeup on. I'm sure it's just lipstick, powder, and mascara, that's all, isn't it?

"Yes?" It sounds like a question.

I sigh and look away, disinterested in further details. She is already late anyway.

Silence ensues and I see her from my peripheral view, watching me. She is seated comfortably on the car seat as though she owns the car and the person beside her.

It looks like I am the one getting a lift while she is the "madame".

I wonder how her ex-boyfriend coped with her personality. A cool-headed man in his right senses won't fall for this woman. I guess that's why they broke it off.

"I called a doctor", she mentions and it dawns on me that she was watching me, trying to figure out how to raise the topic of my mother's health.

It is inevitable. We are going there after all and it will surely be raised. If not by me, her. 

I nod without a word.

I called a doctor too. Myeloma is incurable. That was what the doctor told me. This is why Anita said she was dying.