Chapter Eight

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Standing on the sidewalk, Jeanie watched as the black Mercedes carrying Mr Moreau and Amanda, sped off. She wasn't sure she had made the right call agreeing to act as Bernard's fake fiance, but she was certain she needed the money Amanda had offered. Of course, Mr Moreau didn't seem pleased he'd have to pay for Jeanie's services but Jeanie wasn't going to do it for free.

Two hours of negotiation and she settled on a hundred thousand dollars. She should have pushed for more but Bernard wasn't budging and if she was going to be honest, she'd have done it for ten dollars; at least she'd be able to afford a meal with it.

Releasing a breath, she turned and made her way into her apartment building. Climbing the stairs, she came to a halt when she saw her bags sitting right in front of her door.

“No...” She muttered, staggering towards the door to her apartment. “Oh, that lousy old witch!” She kicked hard against the door. “Waited for me to leave the apartment, right?!” She yelled. “This is illegal, you know! You can't just kick me out! No!!!” She pounded angry fists against the door.

Things could not possibly be getting worse, could they?! And to think she was this close to believing the curse was lifting!

Jeanie didn't think she even had the mental capacity to add 'homeless' to her growing pile of problems... Her rapidly, growing pile of problems!

*

Bernard was much more than happy to be rid of Jeanie. And while he knew he'd have to deal with her for the next couple of weeks, he was happy he could have the next few hours of the day to himself. Two hours of lunch with the chatty lady who seemed incapable of shutting up proved to be more than Bernard could handle.

Several times during the day, he thought of calling off the deal to have her act as his fake fiance. The longer he thought about it, the more the thought proved capable of driving him insane. Yet, he couldn't just back down on the deal, not now. And while he hated to admit it, his popularity seemed to have improved ever since his engagement was announced. His designs in stores were even beginning to sell out.

So, a few more weeks, perhaps months, he'd establish himself as a great designer, gain the people's trust, gain new clients, go to Paris Fashion Week and hopefully, style the duchess. The thought brought a smile to his face. Perhaps dealing with Jeanie for a few weeks was a small price to pay to get everything done.

By the time he was making his way into his apartment that evening, he had on a broad smile on his face.

Bernard had just taken his shirt off when the door bell rang. Because he knew he wasn't expecting a guest, he walked into his closet and examined the monitor. A familiar female stood on the streets, appearing nervous. Although Bernard couldn't see her face, he knew exactly who she was and it filled him with dread.

*

Reaching for the intercom once more, Jeanie frowned as she pressed the button. She wasn't too keen on coming to Bernard's apartment either but with Stacy out of town and her mother living miles away, she was left with no other choice. It was either Mr Moreau or the streets and Mr Moreau might be a dreadful, egocentric, annoying, incredibly frustrating...

“What are you doing here?”

She heard the edge in Bernard's voice as he spoke through the intercom. He obviously wasn't pleased about her presence either.

“I... Um...” Jeanie hated feeling intimidated by him but unfortunately, he had that effect on her. Straightening, “I thought it'd be best if we lived together.” She lied.

“Well, I don't think so.”

“Wait! Look, before you turn your back on me, I'll like to warn you that I don't give up easily. I'll bug you until you let me in.”

“And I'll call the cops.”

“What will that do to your image? I'll accuse you of throwing me in jail simply because you're rich. Plus, I'm your fiancée now...”

Silence followed.

“Okay. I got kicked out of my apartment today and I could really use a place to stay.” She sighed. “Please.”

A few seconds passed and in those seconds, she was convinced he had turned his back on her. Why she thought she could reason with him, she had no idea.

Turning away, she took a step when she heard a loud buzzing sound, letting her in.

She hurriedly picked up her bag and dashed into the apartment building before Bernard got the chance to change his mind. She made her way into his apartment and found him standing in the living room, his arms folded across his chest and a frown creasing his handsome face. His six foot form was dressed in an expensive looking pajamas and his hair was wet.

Against her better judgment, Jeanie realized that she was attracted to him. Which was bad! No, it was very bad! Other than the fact that she could never land a man this good looking and successful- seriously, she didn't even think men that were good looking and successful even existed- he was also rude and arrogant and a long list of nasty. Also, there was the fact that he could never, in a million years, find her attractive. She didn't even find herself attractive! Good thing was, she caught this cursed attraction to Bernard early, giving her the opportunity to nip it at the bud. Of course, she'd have to nip it later because right now, she was being glared at by him.

After a few minutes of staring at her like she was his biggest mistake, Bernard finally spoke.

“The rule still remains the same and this time around, if you do break it, I just might have you arrested.” He began, his eyes running over her in a condescending manner. “First thing tomorrow morning, I'll have my assistant look into apartment buildings for you.”

Turning around, he began to make his way up the stairs.

“Wait!” Jeanie called, halting him. “I can't afford an apartment.” She reluctantly admitted.

Mr Moreau turned around and looked at her. This time, his eyes seemed to be mocking her.

“Of course not.” He said.

And while he didn't utter another word before turning back around and going up the stairs, she caught the look in his eyes just before he turned; she was a pathetic, grown woman who couldn't afford her own apartment and she needed to be ashamed of herself.

Copyright © 2017 Lily Orevba All rights reserved.

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