Breaking the Billionaire's Rules

by Annika Martin

I bite back a smile as he lifts the bun. “What is this?” he asks. “Grilled whitefish with a spicy curry sauce. It’s only available in December.” “I ordered the roast beef and swiss cheese croissant sandwich.” I fix him with a steady gaze. Max’s book stresses the importance of believing in yourself, or at least looking like you do. Fake it until you make it is a recurring theme, though he never puts it like that. “I know what you ordered,” I say sweetly, “but this is the sandwich that you want. You’ll like it much better.” “I’d like a roast beef and swiss croissant sandwich much better.” “Wrong,” I say. He frowns. “You can’t just change my order.” I blink, all sunshine and innocence. “This special-edition grilled whitefish sandwich comes from a food truck on Seventh that was recently purchased by a five-time Michelin-rated chef. Way better than your stupid croissant sandwich.” He looks between me and the sandwich, baffled. “You can’t just...” I cock my head, feeling happy and excited. Max needs to do a revised edition of his book, because nowhere does it say how crazy fun the process is. “It’s the superior lunch,” I say, with the attitude of being in charge, as his book instructs. The secret truth is, he will like it best. Not only is it objectively the superior meal, but it matches his taste. I might not be able to tell you what my best friend in junior year preferred for lunch, but I can tell you what kinds of food Max always went for, yet another unfortunate side effect ...