Page 26 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #1)

Chapter Fourteen

W es

"I thought you were going to London this week." Miles drops by my office and stares at me in surprise. "Didn't you say you were leaving on Tuesday?"

"Change of plans," I snap, irritation clear in my voice as he walks into the office and takes a seat in the empty chair on the opposite side of my desk.

I close my laptop, lean back, and glare at him.

"Can I help you?" There's no hiding that I am in a bad mood, and I'm not even attempting to try.

Sabrina left my apartment Saturday night in a cab because she refused to spend the night, and I haven't heard from her since.

And I sent her three texts and attempted to call her once.

"What change?" Miles leans forward and picks up a notepad from the desk. He flicks through the pages and clears his throat. "What's got you in such a bad mood? I noticed that Swansea Investments shot up 300 percent this morning. Weren't you heavily invested in their stock?"

"Yes," I snap, not wanting to talk about it.

"So, didn't you sell?"

"I sold and profited 50 million." I glance at my phone screen to see if I have any missed calls or texts. I don't. "What of it?"

"I thought that would make you happy."

"It's only money." I pick up my phone, unlock it, and check to see that I have service. "Have you spoken to Erica recently?"

"Yesterday, why?"

"I was just wondering if she and Sabrina are done with finals yet. When will they be starting work on the podcast? I transferred the money to Erica's account on Monday, and I haven't received any updates yet."

"It's Thursday, Wes." Miles looks surprised. "What are you expecting? I think they'll be done in a couple of weeks. Surely, you can't be expecting to hear the first podcast before then?"

"I just want to ensure that the money isn't going to be spent on new clothes and other random shit."

"You know Dad gives Erica a generous allowance, right?" Miles laughs and shakes his head. "And Sabrina is unlikely to take even a penny for herself. You know how prideful she's always been."

"I do." I frown. Because he's right. She's always been prideful, stubborn, na?ve, and innocent. All the things that made me pause when she'd come to my room last year. "She really needs to learn to accept help when it's offered."

"She's independent." Miles shrugs and stands up, looking at his watch. "I have an appointment in ten minutes, but don't worry about Erica and Sab. They will produce the content you want to hear. Let them graduate first."

"I'm not asking them to flunk out in their final semester.

I would just like some..." I pause as Miles gives me a funny look.

I realize that I sound far too invested in their podcast, especially as the sum was such an inconsequential amount in my life.

"In other news, I'm thinking about investing in a town in Montana. "

"What do you mean?" Miles's eyes widen, and I can tell that I’ve taken him aback with the news. "A whole town? Or a store in the town."

"The whole town." I grin for the first time in days. "We can talk about it soon."

"Dinner tonight?" he asks as he holds up his phone. "I have to get to my office to take this."

"Dinner tonight sounds good." I watch as he heads out of my office, then lean back in my seat and call Sabrina again.

It rings twice before going to voicemail.

I try again, and this time, it rings for about twenty seconds before going to voicemail.

"Don't make me come up to Columbia," I mutter as I throw the phone down on the desk.

Am I in the wrong here? I honestly don't know.

I just know I don't like being ignored. At all.

I call one last time and am about to hang up before the voicemail starts again, when she finally answers.

"Hello?" she asks breathlessly, like she has no clue I'm on the other end of the phone.

"What's up, buttercup?"

"Not my ass, if that's why you're calling."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm assuming you want seconds and that's why you've been blowing my phone up, but as I said before, I'm not?—"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Sabrina. If you think I'm calling you for a booty call, you're out of your mind."

"Okay, so then why are you calling?"

"I wanted to ensure you got home okay on Saturday night after you left so abruptly."

"Oh, okay." She's silent for a few moments. "So there was nothing else you wanted to mention?"

"Like what?"

"Nothing," she says quickly. “I was just curious.”

“Are you expecting me to express my undying love for you?” I tease her, and for a few moments, I wish that she were here in my office so I could see her. "I can do that if you want."

"You really want seconds, huh?"

"Well, I had seconds already. How are you feeling, by the way?"

"I'm fine." She pauses. "But Sunday, my thighs were burning, and I could barely walk."

"Sorry about that."

"Sure, you are.”

“I am.”

“Uh-huh. Hold on a second." She puts her hand on speakerphone because I can hear her talking to someone in a muffled tone.

"No, you're goofy," she says, laughing as she removes her hand.

"Don't." She giggles. Then I hear a male voice responding.

"Let's check it out tonight." I frown at his comment.

What is he talking about? What are they going to check out later tonight?

"Okay, I'll text you when I leave the senior center," she says, her tone happy.

Then she speaks into the phone, her voice annoyed again. "Can I go now that you know I'm fine?"

"Are you mad at me, Sabrina?" I'm annoyed. "What's going on here? Do you regret what happened on Saturday night when you were desperately trying to show me that you didn't want me?"

"I don't regret it." She sighs. "It's just complicated. I get now why you turned me down last year. It's not really something that makes sense. We're in two different worlds."

"Umm, as far as I know, we both live here on Earth, in the same city."

"You know what I mean."

"What's going on tonight?" I ask her innocently. I want to know who that man was. Hopefully not another loser from a dating app.

"What do you mean?" She is going to torment me.

"Your plans for tonight with that person you were just speaking to while I was on hold?" I frown as I see an unfamiliar number calling me. I send it to voicemail.

"Oh, you heard that?"

"Yes!" I'm silent, waiting for her to explain further, but she doesn't say anything. "You left something at my apartment," I say finally.

"What? I'm not missing anything."

"I can bring it to campus for you tonight, if you want?"

"Tonight?" She coughs and then recovers. "Sure...why don't you come up tonight? I'm sure everyone will love to see you."

"Who is everyone?"

"All the women in New York who want to be with you, remember?" She bursts out laughing. "Didn't you say that every woman on Earth wanted you?"

"I do not recall saying that, no, but that wouldn't surprise me." I laugh now, suddenly feeling light for the first time this week. "I'll come up around 6 p.m.; does that work for you?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Hope you don't have to cancel any other plans you may have.

" I grin into the phone. "But I have to go now.

I'll text you when I’m close to the campus.

" I hang up before she can change her mind and jump up.

I need to process exactly what I want to happen tonight.

What I want to say to her. What I want my role in her life to be.

I debate telling her that I've wanted her for years, but I don't know if that makes me sound creepy.

I don't want to come on too strong or overwhelm her with expressions and emotions that may make her uncomfortable.

We need to get to know each other again as adults.

As two human beings who are attracted to each other.

I want to woo her. I think about the Tiffany's box and the other presents I've gotten for her.

Fifteen in total, to make up for every birthday her dad had been gone and forgotten her.

I've never given any of them to her. The idea only came to my mind on her eighteenth birthday when Erica had spent weeks trying to figure out what to get her.

She made a comment that Sabrina's mom was never able to afford a gift, and her dad just ceased to exist in her life, so I had an idea to try and make that up to her.

I should have known I was falling for her then.

I debate taking one of the gifts with me tonight, but quickly change my mind.

I'm not sure that would go down very well.

She'd think the gift was a demand for more sex.

Or even worse, a payment for the sex we've already had.

She wouldn't understand that these were gifts I've been collecting to give her.

Gifts from the heart. Gifts just because.

Gifts to help fill the void that her dad left.

Though I knew they wouldn't really come close to fixing that pain.

I grab my phone and make a call, my heart telling me to move forward, even though my brain isn't quite sure if I’m making the right decision. Which is a foreign feeling to me. My brain rules every decision I make 99.9 percent of the time.

"Thank you for calling the Sherlock Private Detective Agency. This is Mona speaking. How may I help you?" An older-sounding lady answers the phone, and I debate hanging up. "Hello, is anyone there?"

"Umm, yes, I was just calling because…umm..." I frown. I really don't know if I should be opening this can of worms or not. I look down at my screen, and another unknown number is calling me. I send it to voicemail.

"Sir, if you're a cheating husband who's recently been caught, please don't put the blame on us. You should have thought about that before you stuck your peen in someone other than your wife," she chastises me, and I can't help but laugh.

"Wait, what? No, no, that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir. Do you think your wife is cheating on you? Statistically, one in every three couples goes through a cheating incident, though I suppose that doesn't stop how devastating it feels."

"One in every three couples has a cheater in it?" I'm surprised. "Wow, I had no clue."

"I mean, don't quote me or anything," she says quickly.

"I don't know what an actual statistician would say, but I personally think those numbers sound accurate. So, what’s your wife’s name, then?

And who do you think she's cheating with?

We do have a $2500 retainer, so I'll need your email address to send an invoice over. "

"No, umm, I don't think?—"

"You can come into the office, as well. Gary is out right now, but he should be back in a few hours. He's trying to locate some lost food."

"Lost food?" I rub my forehead in confusion. I feel like I've called the wrong number here. The lady is making no sense.

"Yeah, a very important man who lives in...well, I shouldn't tell you that part. Let's just say that a very influential man is concerned that the food deliveries he's ordering keep going missing." She lowers her voice. "They are stealing his food, but we don't know why or who."

"I can likely tell you the why." I hold in a laugh. "Someone is hungry and eating it."

"Well, perhaps." Her tone changes and is suddenly less friendly. "What should I tell Gary your case is about?"

"I'm trying to locate someone." I lower my voice. "He hasn't been seen in over a decade, and I've already tried googling him and all the usual searches. It's like he’s disappeared. I haven't been able to find anything on him at all, so I think I'm in need of professional help."

"Well, you've come to the right place. Gary is very professional. He nearly went to Quantico."

"Oh, he did?" I'm impressed.

"Yes! He very much wanted to join the FBI, but the City of Port Charlotte needed him more."

"Sorry, where?"

"Oh, it's a happening town in Florida. You should check it out sometime. Gary and I loved it. In fact, he was beloved there. People relied on him as the face of law and order."

"He was the sheriff?"

"Well, no."

"A cop?"

"Well, he did volunteer until that one incident." She clears her throat. "But Port Charlotte's loss is your gain. Who is the man you're trying to locate? An old business partner? Lover? Dictator of a small Island nation?"

"I'm trying to locate my friend's dad." I wonder if this is a mistake.

If Gary is anything like the lady on the phone, this is going nowhere fast. "He left her mom when she was seven, and I want to find out what happened to him.

Why did he abandon his wife and daughter?

They've had a tough life, and I want to find out why. "

"I can't stand deadbeats." She grunts into the phone. "Well, I'll tell Gary to call you as soon as he gets back to the office, and we'll set up a time for you to come by with whatever information you have. If that man is out there, my Gary will find him. He's the best."

"Well, thanks. That's what I've been told.

I look forward to it." I hang up the phone and look at the torn piece of paper on my desk with the scribbled phone number on it.

Gary had been recommended to me by one of my best friends, Tyler Kane.

Tyler Kane is a hockey player who had needed a discrete and confidential investigator to find out if a woman he'd never remembered having a one-night stand with was telling the truth after she sued him for child support and claimed they'd been in an orgy together many years ago.

He admitted to me that he had gone wild one spring break in college, but had only hooked up with a few girls on the school's dance team, and she hadn't been one of them.

Apparently, Gary had quickly gotten the truth and exposed her for the liar that she was.

"Don't worry about anything, Mr. Carrington. You just give us the details and?—"

"Wait, how do you know who I am?"

"This is a private detective agency..." She sounds amused.

"We really do know everything. No need to give me your number.

We'll be in touch." And then she hangs up.

I sit in the chair, flummoxed. My number doesn't come up on phones unless people have it already saved, and the number isn't even in my name, as it's a company line.

How on earth did they know who I was? I decide not to dwell on it too long, and for the first time since I decided to call them, I feel at ease.

If anyone can locate Sabrina's dad, Richard Fillmore, it would be the Sherlock Private Detective Agency. I’m sure of it.

As I grab my phone to call Tyler to thank him for the recommendation, I frown again. I have thirty missed calls and several voicemails, all from unknown numbers. I’m almost positive scammers have somehow gotten my number, and I shake my head. Sometimes I hate technology.