Page 18 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife

“I am literally going to kill you when we get home,” Erica says as Bad Boy Joe sidles close to her and wraps his arm around hershoulder and attempts to do some sort of bump and grind dance move with her.

“Chill, honey. I’m just getting to know you,” he says in his weird country/reggae drawl.

“But I don’t think I want to get to know you,” Erica says as she leans away.

He grabs his hair and twists it as he gives her a dismissive look.

“Ar-right, then. Ar-right.”

“Okay,” she says, pressing her lips together. “I cannot believe I thought this was going to be a good idea,” she says out loud, shaking her head. I suppose she doesn’t care if Bad Boy hears.

“You’re the one who convinced me that it was going to be a good idea, Erica. I never thought it was going to be one in the first place.”

“Fine,” she says, “Blame me, why don’t you? I always get blamed for everything.”

“What do you mean, you always get blamed for everything?”

“When I was growing up, Wes and Miles would do something wrong, and who would get the blame?”

“But you were the baby of the family. Didn’t you get away with everything?” I say, raising my eyebrow at her, and she laughs.

“I guess.” Her eyes focus on me, and she presses her lips together. “By the way, there’s something you should know. I’m not sure if I should tell you, but…”

“Oh, gosh. What is it?” I am excited thinking of all the possibilities of what she may have to tell me.

“Well, that text message I just got; it was…”

“Not Denzel Washington or Timothée Chalamet. They are not going to be a part of our podcast, are they?” My voice is excited. That would be the news to make this night palatable.

“Okay, ladies. I got you a table!” Rudolpho says, coming back. “You’re welcome.” He gives me a pointed look, and it’s enough to make me snap.

“What do you mean, you’re welcome?” I say to him. “You’re the one who asked me on a date.”

“And you’re the one who chose this place.”

“Yeah, but I figured when you asked me, you would have known to make a reservation,” I retort back at him, starting to feel incensed.

“Yeah, well, I got us a table, but…they’re communal tables.”

“What do you mean, they’re communal tables?”

“Well, they have these little round tables at the side, which are one-on-one, but there are four of us. I got us a communal table, so there may be other people sitting at the table with us.”

“Okay, I mean, you could have gotten us a one-on-one, me and you, and Erica and”—I look over at Bad Boy Joe—“him.”

“I’m glad he didn’t do one-on-one tables,” Erica says in a scathing tone. “Because I think we should all get to know each other.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Rudolpho says and winks at her. “I mean, that’s kind of why we’re here, right?”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve heard of a devil's threesome, right?” He sounds gleeful.

All I can do is blink at him. I’m still wondering if Denzel is going to be on the podcast, but this conversation is taking precedence.

Before I can answer, Erica responds in a disbelieving tone. “A devil's threesome is when one woman has sex with two men.”

“Yeah, exactly. So why don’t we up it a notch and do a devil's foursome?” Rudolpho leers at her.