Carla Rivera wasn't just rich, she was scandalously rich. And if there was one thing she hated more than being rich, it was being single while rich.
On this particular morning, Carla stood in her massive walk-in closet, hands on her hips, glaring at her reflection. "How can I own this many designer dresses and still not own a fiancé?" she muttered to herself.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. It was Frances, the bossy sister.
"Morning, Carla," Frances said briskly, not waiting for a response. "Have you seen today's headlines?"
Carla rolled her eyes. "Do I look like someone who reads headlines?"
"Well, the tabloids are asking why you're single again," Frances replied matter-of-factly. "This is, what, the fourth time this year?"
Carla let out a dramatic groan. "Oh, come on! What's so wrong with being single? Beyoncé made a whole career out of it!"
Frances wasn't impressed. "You're not Beyoncé. You're Carla Rivera, the billionaire con-artist-turned-respectable-woman. People expect you to settle down and..."
"Sell my soul to the highest bidder?" Carla interrupted, flopping onto her velvet chaise lounge. "Pass. Besides, the men out there are either allergic to powerful women or think my money is a personality trait."
Frances sighed. "Just show up to the gala tonight. Smile. Pretend to care. Maybe you'll find someone who isn't repelled by your sarcasm."
As Frances gave up, Geraldine stumbled into the room, clutching a sketchpad and looking like she'd just escaped a wind tunnel.
"Coffee?" Geraldine croaked.
Carla raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me for coffee or warning me that you're about to make a very bad decision?"
Geraldine waved her off. "I'm going to meet Jukai, I have needs, and I need them to be met now. Don't wait up."
"Waitâare you even awake enough to ride a bike?" Carla called after her, but, Geraldine didn't answer.
Westania's streets were alive with the usual symphony of car horns, shouting vendors, and the occasional barking dog. Geraldine weaved through it all on her electric bike, squinting against the morning light.
"I just need coffee," she muttered. "Then I'll be fine. Coffee fixes everything."
It didn't fix everything.
One moment, she was upright, and the next, she was face-first in a flowerbed, her bike lying in the middle of the road.
Cue the drama.
Within minutes, a crowd gathered around the fallen Rivera sister. Some were genuinely concerned. Others whipped out their phones to record, hoping to catch a viral moment.
Perce Nolan was stuck in traffic just a few feet away, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He wasn't supposed to be hereâhe was supposed to be halfway to the airport by now.
"Sir, we can take a different route," his driver suggested.
Before Perce could answer, he spotted his younger brother, Liam, darting through the crowd like a man on a mission.
"What the hell is he doing?" Perce muttered.
He threw open the car door and strode toward the commotion.
---
Geraldine was sitting on the curb, holding her scraped knee and glaring at the bike like it had betrayed her. Carla arrived moments later, her heels clicking furiously against the pavement.
"Oh, for the love ofâGeraldine!" Carla exclaimed. "Are you seriously this incapable of getting coffee without causing a city-wide spectacle?"
"I didn't mean to fall," Geraldine said, pouting.
"Didn't mean toâ" Carla pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you have any idea how many people are watching us right now? This is not the PR I need."
Just then, Perce appeared, looking like a walking Armani ad. His sharp green eyes scanned the scene, landing briefly on Geraldine before locking onto Carla.
"Is she okay?" he asked, his voice smooth but commanding.
Carla turned, ready to deliver her trademark sarcasm, but the sight of him stopped her short.
"Who are you? Her lawyer?" she snapped, recovering quickly.
Perce raised an eyebrow. "No. Just a concerned citizen."
"Well, 'concerned citizen,' we don't need your concern. We've got it under control," Carla said, waving him off.
Perce didn't budge. "You don't look very in control."
Liam chose this moment to rush forward, panting. "Hey, Geraldine! Are you okay?"
Geraldine blinked up at him. "Do I⊠know you?"
"No," Liam said quickly. "But I know you! I mean, I've seen your art! Big fan. Huge fan, actually. Not in a creepy wayâ"
"Liam," Perce interrupted, his tone sharp. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just⊠passing by," Liam said, clearly lying.
Carla smirked. "Wow. Stalker energy runs in the family, huh?"
Perce gave her a tight-lipped smile. "You must be Carla Rivera. The tabloids don't do you justice."
"Aw, how sweet," Carla said, her voice dripping with mock sincerity. "And you must be Perce Nolan, the human embodiment of a corporate merger."
For a moment, there was silence. Then Geraldine burst out laughing, clutching her side. Liam joined in nervously, though it was clear he wasn't sure if laughing was the right move.
Perce, however, simply smiled. "You're a handful, aren't you?"
"And you're in my way," Carla shot back.
As the sisters turned to leave, Carla felt Perce's gaze lingering. She hated that it made her heart skip.
She hated even more that she kind of liked it.
---