I don’t know why I asked him to drive me, but as soon as he opens the door for me, I realize why. Having an insanely hot billionaire hold the door for me feels pretty damn good.

“This car looks expensive,” I say.

“It is,” he says. “Buckle up.”

He closes the door for me and then walks around to the driver’s side. He starts up the car and shifts it into drive.

“I live up by UW,” I say.

He nods and continues down his driveway.

“You can move in tomorrow afternoon,” he says. “We’ll get whatever stuff you need and have it delivered to your bedroom in the west wing.”

“You just can’t wait to get me moved in here,” I say sarcastically.

“What are you going to tell your friends and family?” Liam asks, changing the subject.

Jesus, I hadn’t even considered that. I’d been so lost in this impromptu fairytale that I hadn’t even considered all of the real-world implications. For instance, how the hell am I going to get to my classes when Liam lives so far from campus?

“Can I get a driver to take me to class every day?” I ask.

Liam laughs. “You give me such a hard time about my lifestyle, but you seem pretty eager to start taking advantage of it for yourself.”

I cross my arms. “I live near campus, but you’re making me move further away.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “Of course I can spare a driver.”

* * *

I ask Hans--the driver--to drop me off about half a mile short of campus. I don’t want anyone to see me rolling up to class in a limo. I thank Hans, and he tells me he’ll be back to pick me up after my classes are over. He drives off, and I sneak onto campus as if I had taken the bus from my apartment.

I run into Dana on my way across the quad, and she yawns loudly and asks me what’s up.

I shrug and tell her “not much,” which is a huge lie, but I don’t know her well enough to spill the beans. She’s just some girl in my Teaching Methods 201 class. I don’t even think we’ve ever met for coffee together; we just chat before and after class.

“Where’s your stalker?” she asks me.

I cringe, suddenly remembering Anton.

I nervously look over my shoulder, and Dana laughs.

“Relax,” she says. “I think you handled it correctly.”

Anton is a student in our Teaching Methods class, and I made the mistake of being nice to him at the beginning of the semester. He’s socially awkward, which is fine, but he started getting touchy and clingy, so I told him a few days ago in very blunt terms that he needed to leave me alone.

He didn’t take it well.

“You think he’s going to skip class again?” I ask sheepishly. “I feel kind of awful that he feels he has to miss class to avoid me.”

“If he wants to be a baby about it,” Dana says, “then that’s on him. You’re not forcing him to miss class.”

I nod. “Thanks. You’re right. I’ll try to let it go and not worry about it.”

I’ve got enough on my plate as it is. I moved into Liam’s place yesterday, and I have no idea what is going on there. The five million is already in my bank account. I never thought I’d have four digits in that account, let alone seven. I’m afraid to buy anything, and it’s not like I even need to right now. I’ve got a free mansion to live in, and Liam’s chefs cook all my meals.

I’ve done the math, and putting the money into a decent, low-risk investment portfolio would allow me to simply live off the interest. It sounds boring, but I know it’s the smart thing to do. I want to be a teacher, after all. I might be able to spend some of the money on an apartment, as the value of that wouldn’t go down. It’s an investment I can live in. Much more exciting than just watching numbers add up in a bank account.

But I don’t need an apartment yet, not when I’m living in the west wing of the Lions’ mansion.

And speaking of the Lions, I have to meet Liam’s mom tonight. I guess after Cynthia Frost, meeting his mom should be a walk in the park.

Dana and I arrive to class, and we sit down next to each other. I watch Anton’s empty seat, wondering if he’s going to show up or not. Maybe he’ll just drop the class. It would make me feel kind of bad, but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with him again. Unless we ended up in another class together next semester. If he’s smart, he’ll just suck it up and show up to class. He’s old enough that he should be able to deal with this like an adult.

Professor Copeland walks in a few moments later and shuts the door behind him. I guess Anton isn’t going to show.

Copeland starts his lecture, but yawns during his opening line.

“Late night, prof?” fellow student Chad asks, laughing.

Professor Copeland grins and says, “Yes, late night grading papers and preparing for lecture, nothing crazy like what I’m sure you’re imagining, Chad.”

“Sure thing,” Chad says, winking.

Copeland rolls his eyes and continues teaching.

I’m finding it relatively difficult to focus. I usually really like this class, and Professor Copeland is really good at explaining everything in a way that feels engaging rather than just reading bullet points off a Powerpoint, but I keep finding myself zoning out.

My mind drifts to Liam. Fake or not, the guy’s body is as real as it gets, and the looks he’s been giving me are something else. Though maybe he just looks at every woman like that, or maybe--

“Amber?” I hear Professor Copeland’s voice, and I look up.

“Yes?”

“What do you think?”

“Um,” I stammer. “I agree.”

“I was asking you a question,” he says. “It isn’t an agree or disagree question.”

“Sorry, professor,” I say. “I was zoning out a bit.”

“This is Teaching Methods,” he says. “What about my teaching method is losing you?”

There is low laughter in the classroom, and my cheeks flush. “Sorry, it’s not you, it’s me.”

“You’re using that old line to break up with me?” Copeland asks, and the class cracks up.

“Sorry,” I say over the laughter. “Can you please repeat the question?”

“How do you think teachers can best gather empirical data in the classroom without being biased by outliers?”

“Uh,” I stammer. “Well, I think that as long as you set up all of your--”

“Oh my God!” a girl in the back row squeals. “Liam Lions is marrying a woman that looks exactly like Amber!”

As soon as I hear Liam’s name, I freeze.

“No one cares,” Copeland says. “Put the iPad away, Jessica.”

“You were saying, Amber?”

I’m still frozen in my seat, and I can’t get any words to come out of my mouth.

“Professor, look!”

I see Copeland’s eyes go up, and then they widen.

“That really does look like Amber,” he says, looking back down at me. “You want to have a look at your Doppelgänger, Amber, and then we can put the iPad away and get back to class?”

He shoots a look at Jessica, who sticks the iPad toward me, pointing.

I want to just run out of the classroom and disappear forever, like Anton.

Someone else shouts as she looks up from her phone, “It is Amber! Or do you have a twin sister, Amber, who is also named Amber Green?”

I slouch down in my chair, and everyone starts crowding around the iPad, rushing out of their seats.

“Holy shit!” I hear Dana say. “Amber, what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I can tell Professor Copeland wants to join in on the gossip party, but his scholarly instincts take over, and he points sternly at Jessica. “Put the iPad away, and everyone else put your phones away. If you can’t resist the temptation, please leave the classroom. We don’t have any right to interrogate Amber about her personal life. You are all equal as students here.”

Chad scoffs. “Some more equal than others. Do you know what that dude is worth? No wonder Amber can afford to major in education.”

Copeland stares down Chad with a death glare, and he slinks down embarrassedly in his chair.

“What were you saying about empirical data?” Copeland asks, redirecting his attention to me.

“Uh, well…”

I make it through the rest of class, all the while feeling the intensity of thirty pairs of eyes burning into the back of me. As soon as class lets out, I try to make a quick escape, but everyone crowds around me in the hallway.

“How did you two meet?” one girl shouts. “And does he have any rich friends?”

“Maybe you can host a party at Liam’s place,” Chad says. “Teaching Methods 201 Mansion Madness...that has a good ring to it--”

“Idiot,” Jessica says. “That sounds stupid. Amber only wants to invite people close to her anyway, not the whole damn class. Right, Amber? Remember when we worked on that project together last semester?”

Great, all of a sudden everyone wants to be my friend now.

I manage to break through the crowd of students by telling them I have an exam I need to study for, and I lose everyone but Dana.

“Want to buy me lunch?” Dana asks, grinning.

I sigh. “Sure.”

We’ve never even once had coffee together, but now we’re having lunch.

We go to an Indian buffet, where I load up a plate full of my favorites: palak paneer, chana masala, and a big bowl of raita.

We order a big pile of garlic nan that’s delivered to the middle of our table, and we proceed to eat like animals that had been locked in cages to starve, but finally broke out just before dying of starvation.

I actually ate a huge breakfast, cooked by Liam’s chef, but I’ve worked up quite the appetite from all of my stressing out. Liam wasn’t there this morning for breakfast. I actually have barely seen him since the party. James says he’s busy working with his lawyers. He says they have to stay two or three steps ahead of Cynthia’s lawyers.

“It must be so cool to be rich,” Dana says, shoveling a big bite of food into her mouth.

“It’s pretty stressful, honestly,” I say. “Not that I’m rich…”

Now I’m lying. Well, having $5 million in the bank and not spending a penny of it yet means that technically I feel just as poor as I did a few days ago. The fact that I’m actually rich hasn’t quite sunk in yet.

“And Liam Lions is hot,” Dana says. “It’s like you won the lottery twice over.”

“My impression of rich people,” I say, tearing off a piece of bread, “is that they increase their standard of living so much that even though they have more money than you or I could ever dream of, they are still stressed about losing what they have. They have to continue maintaining whatever high standard they set for themselves.”

“What do you mean?” Dana asks. “You’re saying you aren’t going to spend money even though you’re rich?”

“Do you know what a receiving room is?” I ask.

“Like that room in Downton Abbey where they all have tea together?”

I nod. “Yes, exactly. Do you think anyone actually needs a receiving room? How much more money would you pay to have one in your house?” I raise my eyebrows, and say, “Liam has one.”

“You’re overthinking things, Amber,” Dana says. “Just enjoy it.”

I should probably take her advice. At least while I’m living with Liam, I should just enjoy the crazy rich lifestyle. As long as I don’t get too used to it, I’ll be fine. I ca pretend it’s a really nice vacation. I just can’t raise my standards like most rich people do. Anyway, $5 million is not enough to maintain a Liam Lions’ level of living for even a few months. Having chefs, drivers, and people like James to handle everything you need done...that would eat through $5 million in no time.

We finish eating our lunch, and I pay the bill. I say goodbye to Dana and head back to campus where I slink into the exam at the last possible minute.

I sit in the back, keeping my head down the whole time. Luckily no one notices me, since it’s a big auditorium with all of the TESL classes mixed together. I manage to get in the zone and focus on the test long enough to probably do well on it, and I rush out as fast as I can once it’s done.

Hans said he’d be waiting where he dropped me off this morning after the exam, but I finished a bit early. I decide to just lay down on the grass lawn in the quad. It’s probably the most relaxed and alone I’ll be able to get, and I need to clear my head for the dinner with Liam’s mom tonight.

And thinking of parents, I probably need to call mine as soon as possible. If my classmates saw pictures of me in the news, my mom and dad, or one of their friends, probably will, too.

I haven't decided if I want to tell them the truth or not. Liam told me not to talk to them at all until his lawyers cleared it, so I can use that as an excuse to dodge them for a few more days at least.

“Don’t do it,” a deep voice rumbles over me.

Startled, I look up to see Anton hovering only a few inches away from me.

He’s a big guy with a thick, curly head of dark black hair. His posture is always a bit stooped, and he’s casting a big shadow over me as I lay in the grass. I bolt up to my feet and stumble back until I’m no longer in his shadow.

“Anton,” I say. “You…”

“Don’t, Amber,” he says. “That guy doesn’t love you. Not like I would, at least.”

“Anton, we barely know each other. You can’t say you love me. I thought I was very clear--”

“I was going to stay away,” he says. “But now I see what a stupid mistake you are making. I need to protect you from it.”

“You need to leave me alone,” I say in what I hope is a calm voice, taking another step back.

“Amber,” he says, his voice suddenly sounding whiny and pleading. “I wasn’t saying I love you, I know that would be weird. I was saying that I would love you, if you gave me a chance.”

“I’m engaged,” I say.

“Where’s the ring?” he asks.

I bite my lip. Liam told me to wear it to class, but I pocketed it. I was too embarrassed and didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Not like that worked anyway.

I reach into my bag, feel around until I find the huge diamond, and slide it onto my finger. “Here, see?” I hold my finger up to show him the ring. “Now go away, Anton. You’ll find someone else to fall in love with. That girl is not me, even without Liam, and it was never going to be me.”

He scowls at the diamond sparkling in the sunlight. “Love can’t be bought, Amber.”

I shake my head and throw up my hands. “I’m not asking you again, Anton. Leave me alone. And stop skipping class on account of me. There is nothing between us, and there will never be. Just leave it.”

I turn my back to him and start walking.

I’ve tried being nice to Anton. I really tried, and that’s what put me in this situation before. I don’t want to be a bitch to him—I really don’t. It kills me to do it, but I have to make a clean break from him. If I’m not direct to him, I’m only going to hurt him more. I have to be a bitch and rip the Band-Aid off.

My heart is pounding. I waited too long to do this, and I feel like he’s already crossed a line at this point, and I’m worried he’s going to follow me. If I had been nice to him again and then told him I needed to go, he wouldn’t have followed me. But then I’d be making everything worse, and this would never end.

I’m afraid to look back, so I just keep walking as fast as I can, looking forward the whole way, standing straight and confidently, with my chin up.

I finally dare to look back after a full minute has passed. Anton is about two hundred feet behind me, his fists balled up and his head down. He’s definitely following me.