The Disguised Heiress And Her Obsessive Tycoon

y toward the camera lens. "Let's step into my p

losed room meant no witnesses. It

a semi-circular booth in the corner of th

He practically ran to the booth

ed slowly. She

he positioned himself a few feet away, zooming the lens in tight on their hands

a glass of sparkling water on a silver tra

kept her hands folded in

pulled out a crisp ten-dollar bill and three singles. He

aid, forcing a tight smile.

the money. She di

his breast pocket and pulled out a th

ing an octave. "Free meals for a mon

d, her voice carrying clearly into the mi

looked at her frayed clothes, the dirt on her face. He made a massi

e of the table. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisp

ow," Gus hissed. "You need ca

er index knuckle. She tilted her head

his inner jacket pocket and pulled

envelope across the table, hiding

e with desperate pleading. "You take it. You go on camera, you say the system made an error, and y

al. Millions of viewers were witn

against her ribs. Twenty-five thousand total could buy e

olated the core rule of the show. It would mean instant disq

the envelope. He thou

usand when the cameras lea

't a happy sound. It was sharp, c

e. Instead, she brought her

a

verware

nt restaurant. "Are you attempting to bribe me with five thousa

e room like a bo

c seized his chest. He lunged forward, his hands

le was

to the wood. With a vicious swipe, she slid the envelope directly to

dead into the lens. "This is how a thie

booth. He buried his face

reamed, his voice crack

en dollars in cash-her legal refund. She le

Gus, her expressi

y money," Anabelle said