Page 34 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife (Billionaires Seeking Wives Club #1)

Chapter Nineteen

S abrina

Day number one: Operation Get Kicked Out of Wes's Apartment.

I feel slightly stupid as I slide out of the luxury town car that Wes had sent to pick me up.

I'm wearing an old Metallica T-shirt that's so baggy and holey that it looks like it should be in the trash.

My sweatpants are a little too big and are almost falling down, but I don't care.

My hair is up in a messy bun, and I have on no makeup.

I look like death warmed over, and that's exactly what I wanted.

If I want to get kicked out of Wes's place as soon as possible, I can't show up looking cute.

I have to look frumpy. I hold on tightly to the plastic bag full of ramen noodle packets and my backpack.

"I can carry those for you, miss," the driver says as we head towards the building.

I shake my head. "I got it, but thank you. I appreciate you picking me up, Antonio."

"You're welcome, ma'am. Mr. Carrington said I'm to be your personal driver." He hands me a card. "You can call me or text me at this number at any time, and I will be at your disposal."

"Oh, thanks, Antonio. But it's okay. I can walk places and take the subway."

"I would be grateful if you called me, ma'am," he says. "I am only here to drive you around, and if I don't drive you around, well then, I have no job."

"Oh." I look at him, slightly taken aback. "I mean, I don't want you to have no job," I say with a wry smile. "I'll call you when I need you, and I'll make sure to need you every so often. Does that work?"

"Thank you, ma'am." He nods his head as he opens the door. "Mr. Carrington knows that you're here. He said he'll meet you in the lobby."

"Thanks," I say. "Have a good evening."

"You, too."

I head into the building, and once again, I'm awed by how magnificent it looks. The marble, the gold, the statues that look like they've come straight out of a town center in Florence. Absolutely beautiful. Wes is standing there, right next to a tall column. There’s a smirk on his handsome face, and I try not to roll my eyes. He really thinks he’s won, but he has no idea what’s coming.

“Hi,” he says, taking a step forward. I see his eyes widen slightly, and his lips twitch as he looks me over. "Interesting attire, but I expect nothing less from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask him, frowning slightly as we head towards the elevator.

"I just mean that you have an interesting choice in clothes. I didn't know you were into Metallica."

"Well, I am," I say, but that's somewhat of a lie. I know one song, and only because my mother used to listen to it, but I'm not going to tell him that. I'm much more of a pop music fan. "So, I decided to make dinner for us tonight." I beam at him and lower my eyelashes. "I hope that's okay."

"Oh, wow. I didn't think that was going to be something you would want to do."

"Why not?" I say, looking up at his surprised expression.

"I don't know, because it seemed like you didn't really want to be here, and now, hearing that you're going to make dinner…well..." He grins at me. "Thank you very much. I appreciate it. What are you making? Lobster tails, scallops, steak?" He frowns. "I hope you didn't spend all your money."

"Don't worry about it. I wanted to thank you for letting me stay in your magnificent, wildly expensive abode. I mean, I know when I was here with Erika a couple of weeks ago, changing for that date, you acted like you didn't even want us here. Now look, you want me to live with you."

"I mean, these are slightly different circumstances," he says, raising an eyebrow and showing me his phone. "Fifty missed calls in the last hour."

"Oh." My stomach churns. "I mean, have you ever thought about possibly taking some of these women on dates? I mean..."

"Really, Sabrina?" He just stares at me, his lips thin.

"I’m just saying maybe, just maybe, you'll meet someone, and..."

"I don't want to meet anyone, and I'm certainly not looking for a wife.

I think you'll find that this is going to go a lot easier if you know that I don't think your little prank was that funny.

You may think that I'm okay with it because I haven't gone off, but I'm not, so I'd appreciate it if you don't..."

"Oh, my gosh. Okay, Wes, there's no need to keep going on and on about it."

His phone starts ringing, and I grab it. "Hello?"

"Hi. Can I speak to Wes Carrington, please?"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask who's calling?"

"Oh, this is Samaya."

"Sorry, who?"

"Samaya."

"One moment, please." I press mute on the phone. "Samaya is calling. Do you know her?" He looks at me without saying a word. "Hello. I'm speaking to you."

"Do I look like I know a Samaya? What sort of name is that?"

"I don't know. I'm just telling you who's calling." I take a deep breath and unmute the phone. "Hi Samaya, may I ask what this call is about?"

"It's about the fact that I need a baby daddy for my three sons, and I figured it wasn't working with those broke-ass losers I was dating previously, so why not get me a billionaire. I looked him up, and he is fine, so sign me up. Whatever I got to do, tell me where the date is and when."

"Unfortunately, there will be no date scheduled for Mr. Carrington. He actually has someone now."

"What? What do you mean he has someone?"

"I mean that the position has been filled." I hang up the phone.

"It's been filled, has it?"

"Well, that's why I'm here, right? We want everyone to believe I'm taking the position."

"But you act like you don't want the position." He takes a step closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulder. "You act like?—"

"I don't want the position," I cut him off. "I'm just here because I have to be."

"Really?"

"Yes. I already told you that nothing is going to happen between us, Wes.”

“Okay, Sabrina,” he says, his eyes twinkling. The elevator stops, and we head out. I watch as he walks to the door and opens it. "Welcome to my humble abode," he says, ushering me inside.

"I would hardly say humble, but it is very nice.

" I look around once again. I will never tire of stepping into this apartment. If I were here under different circumstances, maybe house-sitting with Erica, I would truly enjoy the experience, but because I’m here with Wes under such dubious conditions, I feel slightly uncomfortable.

"I guess I'll show you to our room," he says with a slight chuckle as we walk down the corridor.

"I mean, I don't really want to stay in the same room as you, but..."

"But nothing, Sabrina. Those are the rules."

"Whatever."

He opens the door. "You can put your stuff down. I'm a little hungry. What time do you want to start making dinner?"

"Oh, I can make it soon if you want."

"I do. So, you're not going to tell me what you're making?"

"I will say this. It's a Sabrina specialty."

"Ooh. Do I have time to do some work beforehand? What time should I think about coming to the dinner table?"

"What time is it now?" I ask him.

"It's 7:30," he says, looking at his watch. "So what are you thinking? An hour and a half, two hours?"

I press my lips together. I'm trying not to laugh. This fool really thinks that I'm about to go all out making dinner for him. "I mean, if you're really hungry, I think I can have it done a little sooner than that."

"Oh, okay. I mean, I don't want you to skip any steps. I want it to be whatever you wanted it to be. I'm a big man. I can survive a little longer if I have to."

"I'll do my best to get it done as quickly as possible."

"Oh, well, I'm super excited." He turns to me and grabs my hands. "I know you didn't necessarily want to be here, but I think it will be nice getting to spend this time with you, especially seeing as we haven't seen each other in the last year, and well, you know."

"I mean, not really. Why am I really here, Wes?" I say truthfully because I still don't really understand why I had to be at his apartment. "Couldn't you have just forwarded your calls to me?"

"But then what if it was a call that I was to accept?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "How would I know when it was forwarded to you and you weren't with me?"

"But logistically, I don't really see how this is going to work. I can't answer your phone every second of the day. I can't just be up under you."

"What you're going to do," he says with a small smile, "is answer the calls between specific hours, and when they are real calls, you will note them down and I'll call them back."

"Okay. This just seems weird to me. Don't you have an office phone?"

"Luckily for you, most of my business calls do come through a work number, but not all do. I'm a successful man. I don't give presidents my work number. I give them my direct line."

"Presidents? Like of the United States of America?"

"No, I mean presidents of other companies," he says, throwing his head back and laughing. "I may have a name for myself in the business world, but I don't dabble in politics. You know that, Sabrina."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," I say, nodding. "I guess we'll see how it works. I still don't think it's a good idea."

"Duly noted," he said. "Okay, I'm going to be in my office. I look forward to dinner. I’m sure it will smell amazing."

"Me, too," I say. "I really hope you think it's delicious."

"I still wonder what it is. Not veal. You wouldn't do veal, would you? Though I have to admit, I love a veal parmigiana."

"No, it's not veal parmigiana."

"Lobster bisque?"

"No, it's not lobster bisque."

"Ratatouille?"

"I don't know how to make ratatouille," I say, laughing.

"Risotto?"

"Wes, stop guessing. It'll be ready soon enough."

"Okay." He leans forward and suddenly kisses me on the lips. "I'm really glad you're here, Sabrina."