Page 13 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #1)

“Oooh wee, it’s like that, is it?” Rudolpho looks at me, his eyebrows raised and lips twisted.

He looks like his photo, but not really.

I’m trying to figure out what he did to make himself look so handsome and distinguished in his online photos when in real life, he is quite the opposite.

“Acquaintance girl? That's not all you'll be making. In fact, I was thinking that?—”

“Erica is my best friend,” I cut him off as I’m almost positive he’s going to say something rude.

“This place looooooks expensive aaaaaaaas shiiiiiiit,” Bad Boy Joe says slowly, like he’s a wannabe rapper.

Could the evening get any worse? “Best be worth it, booooyy.” He holds his hand up, and Rudolpho slaps it.

The two men then bump shoulders, and I can see Erica rolling her eyes.

The two men were not exactly giving Fitzwilliam Darcy from Pride and Prejudice a run for his money.

He then looks over at me and snaps his fingers.

“Wicked.” He looks me up and down and then sways his head back and forth.

“Sup.” He nods, and I issue him a polite smile before nodding to Erica.

“She’s your date,” I say quickly and mouth an apology to Erica, who gives me a death glare.

“Nothing to sneeze at,” Bad Boy Joe says as he looks Erica up and down.

“Excuse me? What does that mean?” Erica asks like some sort of fool. Even I know that when someone is talking nonsense, you don’t ask them for an explanation. You just ignore them unless you want to be inundated with even more nonsense.

“I said what I said. Chill, girl. I would still hit it. Am I right?” Bad Boy Joe, who I actually think should go by Rude Boy Joe, smirks. “You cute.”

“Sabrina.” Erica gives me a look, and I know she’s about to call the date off. I give her a pleading look, even though every brain cell in my head is telling me to leave.

“Maybe it will get better.” Even I don’t believe my own words. “Think about the podcast,” I reiterate, and she groans.

“My brother better give us ten billion dollars for this podcast.” She smiles reluctantly as she rubs her forehead. I know Erica well enough to know that when she’s this pissed off, nothing but a couple of drinks and a lot of laughs is going to help.

“We’ll just order all the good stuff on the menu,” I whisper to her. “It’s a date, so they’ll be paying.”

“Dom Perignon it is.” She giggles and fluffs her hair.

“So, did you guys have a reservation?” She looks over to Rudolpho, who is smiling at me warmly.

I remind myself that this is a guy I’ve been speaking to online for a couple of weeks, and he’s been great.

Just because he isn’t Brad Pitt doesn’t mean he isn’t worth a shot.

I try not to compare him to how good Wes looked in his tousled shirt and tie.

Stupid Wes. Why would he pop back into my life on the night of my hot date?

I conveniently try to forget that I’m the dumbass that went to his apartment.

I should have known that he wouldn’t be out of town like Erica said.

“Reservation?” Rudolpho looks blankly back at me. “Like, for dinner?”

“I mean, it’s not breakfast time, is it?” Erica retorts, and Bad Boy Joe swings back and forth.

“Boomshakalaka,” he says under his breath, and I frown. What the hell is he talking about? Remain calm, Sabrina. You do not have good health insurance. You do not want to wind up in the emergency room from a stroke or heart attack and be in debt for the rest of your life.

“Let me see what’s up.” Rudolpho looks at my cleavage and then walks over to the host. Bad Boy Joe stands there and pulls out his phone and starts playing music loudly through the speaker.

My face burns in shame as guests nearby look over at us with disgusted looks.

Bad Boy Joe starts humming along to the music, and I realize that he’s playing his song, most probably trying to garner our attention.

“We can still leave.” Erica steps closer to me and whispers in a panicked tone. I’m about to agree to go when her phone beeps. She looks at the screen and makes a face. “Just great.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and putting her phone back into her handbag. “Let’s just make the most of this free meal and have fun.”

“We can try,” I say, trying to ignore Bad Boy Joe as he starts doing some sort of dance move next to us.

He’s obviously trying to get our attention, but I’m just trying to pretend that the moldy smell wafting up my nose is not from his hair.

I don’t know if he thinks he’s Bob Marley’s less talented and hip white cousin, but he’s getting on my nerves.

I’m thankful that he’s not my date, but I’m sure that Erica will exact her revenge on me in some way.

“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 her shoulder 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.

“A devil's foursome?” Erica says, shaking her head. “That would just be a couples swap.”

“Yeah, baby! That’s what I’m talking about.” Bad Boy Joe raises his hand to high-five Erica, and she looks at him dismissively.

“Is that what this is all about?” she asks, blinking. “You thought that we were going to swap?” She bursts out laughing. “You thought 1.) that either one of us would be interested in either one of you, and 2.) that we would want both of you? Are you both high?”

“Weed is legal,” Bad Boy Joe says.

I groan loudly. “This is not exactly going the way that I thought it was going to,” I say. “Erica, do you think you want to…”

“My brothers are coming,” she says, making a face.

“What do you mean, your brothers are coming?”

“They got a reservation…” She lets out a low sigh. “I guess this place is not as popular as I thought if everyone is getting reservations last minute, and Miles just wanted to let me know in case we thought he was spying on our dates.”

“You mean Miles and Wes are coming?” My heart races.

“Yeah, and after the way we went on at his apartment about how great this date was going to be, I guess…” She sighs. “I mean, we can leave, but I don’t want him to say, ‘I told you so.’”

“Neither do I! I was going on that I thought this was going to be the last first date of my life.” I realize that I’m speaking loudly, and I look over at Rudolpho to see if he's eavesdropping. "I was practically telling Wes I was going to be engaged within months."

“Hold up, honey! I didn’t say I was looking for marriage or babies or…”

“Don’t worry. I’m not interested in that with you.” I run my fingers through my hair and play with my pineapple earrings.

“Aight. I mean, I want to hit it, but I’m more about quitting it than applying for a job after the big deed, if you know what I mean. Am I right?”