“I need a fake wife,” says the handsome billionaire Berkutov, who was my boss just yesterday. He looks at me from head to toe. “Your appearance, of course, looks worn out,” he continues, “but at least your face is pleasant and your figure is good.”
— Am I some product on a shop window?! I’m not going to sleep with you! — I snap, raising my chin in offense.
“Calm down,” he orders in an icy tone. “I need a wife, and you need money. We can help each other.”***
The former boss offers to become his fake wife—and I sent that rude man away. But a call from my mother changed everything. She needs an expensive operation, and our family doesn’t have the money. So I’ll have to accept Berkutov’s offer. Only I didn’t know that his contract has “asterisk” conditions.