Page 14 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #1)

I don’t deign to answer him. The man is a mess!

An absolute mess! I don’t want to be here with Rudolpho and Bad Boy Joe, but I don’t want to leave before the date even gets started.

I don’t want Wes to think it was my outfit or something else that made the date go awry.

I want him to think I’m having the time of my life.

“So, what do you want to do?” Erica asks.

“Guess we’re going to have to suck it up,” I say.

“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d say that.”

“You did?”

“I mean, the way that Wes was going back and forth with us…” She grinned. “We cannot let him win this argument.”

“Exactly! I feel like he jinxed this date for us.”

“Oh, he totally did! He’s such a hater!” she says, rolling her eyes. “But…”

“But what?”

“I guess we make the most of it, and when they arrive, we pretend we’re having the time of our lives.”

“What do you mean, pretend?” Rudolpho says, finally saying something.

Erica turns to look at him, her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to be rude, but you and your friend showed up, and before we even had a drink, you were asking us if we’d be interested in a devil’s foursome, which does not even exist. You were basically telling us you want to have an orgy.”

“Oh, you seem like way too much work. Bow-chica-bow-wow!” Bad Boy Joe says.

Erica and I exchange glances. We both grab hands and take a deep breath.

“We’re doing it for the podcast,” we say in unison and then burst out laughing. We both know that this is going to be the shittiest date of our lives.

“You ready to sit, chicas?” Rudolpho asks as if we weren’t just discussing walking out on the date. He really must be desperate. Or delusional. Or both. Though I’m not sure what it says about me and Erica that we’re still here in the restaurant.

“My name’s Erica,” Erica exclaims. “And this is Sabrina, just in case you forgot. We have names; we’re not chicas. We’re not bow-chica-bow-wows or boom-shaka-lakas or whatever you have to say.”

She looks over at Bad Boy Joe and says, “By the way, what is your real name?” She looks over at Rudolpho. "And you, too."

“It’s Rudolpho.”

“Really? Your parents decided to name you Rudolpho?”

“Yeah, and what?” he says obstinately.

“I mean, it’s just a different name. Like, were they in love with Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer or something?”

“Uh, no.”

Erica takes a deep breath. “What about you? What’s your real name? Because I’m not calling you Bad Boy Joe all night.”

“You can call me Steve,” he says finally.

“Oh, so you do have a normal name?”

“I mean, it’s not as cool. It’s not my stage name.”

“Your stage name?” I ask him. “Are you famous?” I want to slap myself for the obviously stupid question. There’s no way in hell this man is famous.

“I mean, not yet, but I’m trying to be the next Eminem, you know what I mean?”

“Uh, so you’re a rapper?”

“Kind of like a mix between rap and reggae. I’m like the white Bob Marley.”

“I knew it!” I exclaim and then press my lips together.

Erica gives me a look.

“You knew what?” Rudolpho asks.

“Nothing. I just thought to myself, ‘Man, Steve seems like he’s heavily influenced by Bob Marley.’” In a bad way, I think in my mind.

“Okay, shall we sit?”

“Yeah, let’s sit.”

“Are we doing this because you’re trying to prove a point to someone? Or because you’re down with the sexy bad boys?” Rudolpho says in a far more astute manner than I would have thought he would. Aside from the last part. Neither he nor Steve is sexy in any way.

“Uh, no. Why would you think that?” Erica asks as if we haven’t just been talking about her brothers and the reason why we were staying.

“You were just talking about how?—”

“Why don’t we all get a drink?” I say quickly. “And move on to the actual date part of this evening.”

“Aight,” Rudolpho says. He steps back toward me, grabs my hand, and squeezes. His palm is wet, and it takes everything in me not to pull away from him. I don’t want to grimace. I don’t want to be rude, but I definitely don’t want to be holding his hand.

“Can I say something, Sabrina?” He looks me up and down.

“Sure…” I say as we head back over to the hostess, who looks at us in an annoyed fashion.

“This way, please,” the hostess says. We follow behind a petite brunette to a long table with high barstools.

I groan. I know my skirt is going to ride up my thighs sitting in these chairs.

“Uh, I was going to say something to you,” Rudolpho says as I take a seat.

“Oh, what’s that?” Please don’t make a comment about my boobs. Please don’t make a comment about my boobs. Please. Please, I think to myself.

“I mean, I just want to say that I’m a very open-minded guy, but…” His eyes narrow slightly.

“But, what?” I lean forward, my heart racing. I know there’s no way in hell this man is going to say anything negative to me.

“I mean, your photos…” He makes a face.

“What about my photos?” My jaw drops. Mr. Catfish himself is definitely not making a comment about my photos.

“I mean, you just looked a little slimmer, you know. I like the big boobs.” He licks his lips as he looks down at my top. “But, you’re a little thicker than I thought you were going to be.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you got thick thighs, girl.” He stares at my thighs as my black skirt rides up. “I’m sure you don’t got no gap when you walk.”

I press my lips together and look over at Erica.

She wrinkles her nose. “That’s really rude,” she says finally.

“I’m not hating on them. I mean, hey, you got a big ass.” He grins and winks. “I like it when it jiggle-jiggles.”

I jump up, pissed. “I have to…”

“Wes and Miles,” Erica whispers loudly.

“I have to just go to the restroom,” I say, hurrying to the over side of the room.

“I’m going to join her,” Erica says quickly.

We both rush to the side of the restaurant and look for the ladies’ restroom.

“What the fuck are we doing?” I stare at her. “They are horrible!”

“I know.” She makes a face. “They are worse than horrible. Like if we asked for the worst dates in the world, they would definitely be at the top of the list.”

I take a deep breath. “So, how are we going to do this? I don’t think either one of us is a good enough actress to make Wes believe that the date is going well.”

“I think we just fake it till we make it,” she says. “At least we know we’ll be able to join him for lunch tomorrow and pitch the podcast.”

“He better give us like fifty grand.”

“Oh, girl, I’m asking for a hundred grand.” She grins. “We need all new equipment, and it would be really cool if we could get a studio space so we could actually interview people and…”

“Your brother is not going to give us a hundred thousand dollars for a podcast.”

“I’m just saying,” she says. “Aim high and settle for low.”

I shrug. “I guess. He’s your brother. You know him better than I do.”

“I know.” She pauses for a second. “And you haven’t seen him in a while, have you?”

“Oh, haven’t I?” I look away and pretend to be nonchalant.

“Yeah, I mean, I kind of noticed that you…”

“They’re going to wonder where we are,” I say as I turn to wash my hands. “We should get back.”

Erica looks at me slowly and nods. “Okay. Sure. But I did want to ask you if there is a reason you have been avoiding Wes?”

“I haven’t been avoiding him. You know how busy I’ve been.”

“Girl, exactly, I do know how un busy you’ve been. How unbusy we’ve both been. You seem to be avoiding him like the plague.”

“No, I’m not. He’s just out of town a lot.”

“Then why is it that every time you agree to come over for lunch or dinner with my parents or grandparents, and you found out he was going to be there, you didn’t go?”

“I didn’t realize that had happened,” I say, pretending I have no clue what she’s talking about.

Erica is my best friend, and I love her dearly.

I share everything with her, but I’m just too embarrassed to talk to her about her own brother.

No one wants to hear that their best friend has a crush on their brother.

Or had a crush. I shudder as my brain shuts down all thoughts.

I don’t even want to think about Wes and the past.

“Let’s just have the time of our lives tonight and forget about everything else,” I say quickly.

“So, Dom Perignon and caviar it is,” she says, grinning.

“Do you think Rudolpho and Steve can afford that?” I’m skeptical.

“I think they’re undercover millionaires or something,” she says, grinning. “I mean, only really rich men can be that outrageously obnoxious and think they’re going to get away with it.”

“Oh, you think so?” I say.

“Of course!” She grins, laughing. “They are absolutely loaded. I bet by the end of the night, we find out they’re dot-com millionaires or something.”

“Okay. Well, if you say so. You definitely have more experience with the rich men of the world.”

“Girl! The only rich men I know are my brothers, and they haven’t exactly been forthcoming in introducing me to any other rich men they know.”

"Rude." I giggle. "They should be hooking you up."

“I don’t want my brother to feel like he has to take care of me.”

“But, we’re going to him for money for the podcast.”

“For a business,” she says. “I’ll be working for it. We’ll be working for it. I don’t just want it handed to me and be one of those women who takes everything for granted and isn’t appreciative of everything.”

“You would never be like that, Erica.”

“I don’t know if I would never be like that.” She giggles. "I was born into a life of luxury."

“True. I don’t know what I’d be like if I were born into a life of luxury either.”

“You’d be the sweet, lovable Sabrina that you always are.”

I laugh. “I don’t know about that, but thank you for thinking so.”

“Come on. Let’s do this,” she says as she opens the restroom door. We both take deep breaths as we head back into the wild.

We walk back to the table, and I try not to groan as I watch Rudolpho picking his nose and wiping it on his jeans.

Disgusting!

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I say as I look over at Erica.

“Me either. This podcast better blow up.”

“You’re telling me!”

Rudolpho looks me up and down as I sit down, and I can see him leering. “I do like that top on you, though. Pretty sexy. Are those hearts for?—”

“The hearts are for nothing.”

I look around for a server. “Let’s order some drinks,” I say quickly and then turn to him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Twelve inches.”

“What?” I frown, and he bursts out laughing.

“Psych. You’ll find out the number later.”

“That wasn’t my question.” I’m pissed. “I just want to know why your personality seems so different in person than it did when we chatted online. You’re just not the same.”

“Oh, it was me. I just had some help.”

“Help?”

“AI, baby.” He winks slowly, and I want to throw up. How did I ever think this man was cute? “Artificial intelligence is changing the world for the better.”

“More like ruining it,” I groan under my breath. “Absolutely ruining it.”

I’m never going to ignore my intuition again. I knew from the first moment I chatted with him that something seemed off. I wish now that I would have deleted the message and never responded back. As I stare into his pugnacious and despicable face, I realize I'd rather be anywhere but here.