I'm not saying Whitney Merchant's a gold digger, but she isn't messing with any broke fighters.
And I'm dirt poor, only a few dollars to my name. At least for now.
With no education or skills other than being a halfway decent cage fighter, I'll wash dishes or wait tables if I have to. Anything to make it six more months to my big fat pay day. That's all the time I have left to convince Whitney that the two of us belong together before she finds out how much I'm worth.
The spoiled rich girl claims she's allergic to broke boys who lack the motivation to be successful in life. She thinks I'm a slacker, with no goals or ambition. That was true until we met.
Now, I know what I want, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, even if it means losing everything I stood to gain, including her.