Page 76 of The Rebel Billionaire

"At least get something new," he said. "Your brother would give you the money if youasked."

"You know, for someone who got all offended when he was offered money to be my bodyguard, you're pretty cavalier about expecting me to take ahandout."

"It's not the same. It's yourfamily."

"It's exactly the same," I said,exasperated.

I didn't know what the big deal was. I was trading in my sedan for a used truck. People traded in their cars every day. When I told Lucas I was getting a new car, he must have envisioned me picking up a new version of the car I wastradingin.

When it was new, the sedan Aiden had given me when I turned sixteen was pretty sweet. Expensive. Eight years later, it wasn't worth that much. I sure as hell wasn't trading it for a massive car payment on a vehicle I'd be afraid to drive to the home improvementstore.

I didn't need a luxury sedan. I needed atruck.

Lucas called mePrincessallthetime.

Mostly, I took it as anendearment.

Sometimes, it felt like anaccusation.

I was more than my family, more than my upbringing. He'd spent his entire life working to separate himself from who he'd been growing up and he'd succeededbrilliantly.

Why couldn't I dothesame?

Because I was a Winters, living in Atlanta. Maybe if I'd moved away, it would've been easier to just be me. The next time I saw Annalise, I'd have toaskher.

Apparently finished grumbling at me, Lucas got out of my sedan and came around to open my door. A salesman greeted us the second my feet hitthelot.

I set him to work appraising my car for trade while Lucas dragged me around to inspect every used truck they had, treating me to a rundown of everything that was wrongwiththem.

Finally, I settled on one I liked that I thought was in my price range. It wasn't pretty and it didn't have any of the bells and whistles a new vehicle would, but it didn't have too many miles and was in goodcondition.

It was also a good size, not a toy truck, but not as big as Lucas's. I needed a truck, but I wasn't entirely confident about transitioning from my normal-size sedan to such a big vehicle. This truck wasperfect.

Lucas crossed his arms over his chest, planted his feet, and shookhishead.

"Notthisone."

I threw my hands in the air and said, "What? What's wrong with this one? I like this one. It's in goodshape.”

"It's only got thirty or forty thousand miles before the transmission falls out. These trucks are only good to a hundred thousandmiles."

"That's fine," I insisted. "It'll be years before I hit a hundred thousand. I don't drive that much. Maybe by then, I'll be able to afford something new. I don't even know if I'm going to like driving a truck. I don't want to spend a lot ofmoney."

"Fine. Then I'll buy you atruck."

I stared at him,dumbstruck.

What did he mean, he would buy me atruck?

He hadn't even let me see the inside of his house, and he was going to buy me atruck?

And he'd accused my family of throwing money at our problems. Lucas seemed to realize he'd gone too far. He looked away and shoved his hands in his pockets, studying the truck'stires.

"You're not buying me a truck," I said. "I'm getting this one. And I don't want to fight about it anymore. This is stupid. It's just atruck."

"Fine,"hesaid.

"Fine." We both knew it wasn't just a truck. It was Lucas thinking that I really was a princess, too good to drive a truck—especially a used one—despite all he knewofme.