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    Summary

    “Oh,” Eliza murmured, realisation and no small amount of amusement dawning on her face. She let out a soft chuckle and reached out to gently squeeze Lena’s arm, blue eyes sparkling with laughter. “Oh, honey, no. We both know I’m not your type.”

    “Oh, I think you might be,” Lena lightly replied.

    Her smile grew strained, almost nervous, and pride bristling slightly. She couldn’t fail at this dare. People usually threw themselves at Lena for the opportunity to give her their number. In part, it might’ve been the fact that she was a billionaire, but she also owned a mirror. It wasn’t like she ever wanted people’s numbers, but it was the simple act of being chased that mattered. For someone like Lena, it was the only time she ever felt wanted.

    “I’m old enough to be your mother, dear. You must be around my daughter’s age. You know what, you should get her number! She’s single.”

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