FALLING FOR MY ALPHA CEO

The first lie people tell is that first impressions matter.

They don’t.

Assumptions do.

People look at me once and suddenly they’re Sherlock Holmes.

“She’s rich.”

“Must be spoiled.”

“Probably never worked a day in her life.”

Interesting.

I’ve always wondered if confidence was illegal or if it just became a crime when a woman had it.

My name is Vera Harrington.

I’m twenty-four years old.

I have chestnut-brown hair that behaves only when it feels like it, hazel eyes my best friend swears are “dangerous,” and a smile that usually means I’m about to say something I probably shouldn’t.

I’m five-foot-seven.

I own too many heels.

And yes...

I’m rich.

No, I’m not saying that to impress you.

If I wanted to impress someone, I’d buy them dinner.

I’m simply saving us both the awkward guessing game.

No, I didn’t inherit my fortune.

No, I didn’t marry an old billionaire.

And no, I wasn’t blessed by some magical money fairy.

I built my life myself.

Which is exactly why it annoys me when people assume otherwise.

Generalize a person and congratulations...

You’ve just told a very general lie.