Page 76 of Meet Jon, the Billionaire

“Oh man,” I said, grabbing Jonathan’s hand so hard that I nearly crushed it. “Look at that line! It literally wraps around the block.”

“I haven’t seen lines like that for exclusive nightclubs,” Jonathon admitted. “It’s a good thing you have extra staff for the grand opening.”

“Yeah,” I purred, giving him a sultry stare. “Remind me to thank my boyfriend later.”

“Your boyfriend is a very, very lucky man.”

“Don’t ever forget it.”

He pulled me in for a quick kiss, but I didn’t let it go too far. Not with all those guests to serve.

My aunt was able to get around without the wheelchair at that point, though her doctor recommended using it for long-distance travel. Still, she managed to amble up in front of the doors with the aid of a cane. I handed her a pair of gardening shears disguised as scissors.

“Here, Aunt Petunia. I giveth unto thee the giant scissors of the grand opening.”

“I accept your gift, my dear.” She took the scissors and snipped the ribbon blocking the door.

The ribbon fell away, and we were open for business. Jonathon rolled up his sleeves and pitched in just like the rest of us. We were incredibly busy, but with more space and four cash registers going, we were able to handle the demand.

Our grand opening netted a huge profit, ten times what we saw on a typical day. I announced bonuses for all the staff, old and new. After we closed, Jonathon invited me to dinner—which wound up being at his place.

“I seem to recall you telling me you didn't know how to cook,” I said as he unlocked his door and I stepped into his expansive penthouse condo.

“I learned.” He raced into the kitchen and put on an apron. I almost fell over laughing when he turned around and the apron had a bikini model figure printed on it. “You’ve been serving people all day. It’s your turn to sit down and be served.”

“What are we having?”

“Thanks to my high-tech, state-of-the-art automatic oven, which I can remotely set with Bluetooth,” he said proudly as he went to a sleek stainless-steel stove. “We are going to have…”

A huge puff of smoke emanated from the oven door, temporarily obscuring his features. He reached into the oven and withdrew a big roasting pan and set it on the stovetop.

“…ashes,” he said, holding the pen up so I could see the burnt, charred remains of whatever he’d been trying to impress me with. “Um… I’ll just order us some dinner.”

Jonathon totally overcompensated, getting not only a four-course dinner delivered, but hot freshly baked cookies. I made the comment that I especially enjoyed them because I didn’t have to make them myself.

Later, we sat together on the love seat, watching the city lights with champagne glasses in our hands. His arm was around my shoulder, and I leaned my head against him in contentment.

“Thanks so much for loving me,” I said with a sigh, nestling into him.

“Thank you for letting me.”

I felt him stiffen against me, and then he sat up, pulling his arm away. “Hey, what’s that on the floor?”

“Oh no, did I spill champagne?”

“No, I think it’s something else.”

He climbed out of the loveseat and knelt in front of me, gathering up something from underneath. I half expected a prank, like a rubber snake or spider.

He pulled out a box with a glittering engagement ring in it instead.

“Amelia,” he said as I felt my heart doing flip flops “Will you continue the streak of me being the luckiest man alive and be my wife?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitance. I laughed, giddy with delight. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

A smile stretched his lips. He slipped the ring onto my finger. I went to pull him up to kiss me. He did, but he remained on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

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