Page 126 of Faking Cinderella
I crack up at that. “It’s a long way from one burger bus to billionaire.”
“She has a tip jar,” Oliver says. “I can help her get there.”
These two.
They’re hilarious together.
“I’ve spent enough time with Bea that I suspect she’d be more than a little irritated if you did for her what you did on your road trip last month,” I say to both of them.
“Huh. That’s an idea,” Oliver replies.
Daphne giggles. “Oh, she’d kill you.”
“Good thing we’re working on getting a dog so I’ll know she’s coming.”
I sigh even as I’m smiling.
I miss my sister.
When I get back to New York, I need to make more time to see her. I don’t want to be one of those CEOs who works sunrise to sunset. I want to be one who has the right team in place—a team who all have healthy work-life balances, which I personally believe is the key to maximum productivity.
I’m almost there too.
My staff is nearly large enough to support me when we move into the chief executive’s suite.
And they’re hella good too.
“If you do what you’re inevitably going to do to Bea, leave my name out of it,” I say to them.
“Tell me about the cookout,” Daph replies.
My eyes nearly cross, and I blow out a breath of relief.
Running a hotel empire isn’t as exhausting as lying to the triplets’ parents. “Their parents showed up. It was so awkward, because they don’t know who I really am—like the related part, because the triplets haven’t told their parents that they know that their dad isn’t their biological dad, and it’s this whole big secret—and I kept thinking I was going to slip and blow it the whole time.”
“Oh my god.”
“Right? Andthentheir mom started dropping hints that Lucky should try to date me.”
Daphne cackles.
“That was fucked up,” Rhys mutters.
“I think I’m going to have nightmares,” I tell him.
He squeezes my hand.
“Are they going to tell their parents?” Daphne asks.
“I don’t know. Secrets and families—they don’t go together, you know? But this one isn’t my call.”
“Margot.”
“Don’t start. I’m notkeeping secrets. I’mbeing strategic. And speaking of strategic, my roommate saved me from Jonas Rutherford today.”
“No.”
“Yes.” I tell her the soap story, and she reacts even better than the Sullivans did.
