Page 16 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife

Get it together, Sabrina.

“Are we crazy? I feel like this is a bad idea.” I look over at Erica and pull on her camel-colored leather Birkin bag strap. She looks back at me and frowns as she brushes her silky hair back. I’m always jealous at how perfect her hair looks, like she’s just stepped out of a salon. She's glamorous in ways I could never be.

“What did you say?” She steps closer to me and away from the middle-aged man who is next to us, looking her up and down like he wants to eat her. Which is made even grosser by the fact that his wife is standing there next to him, looking pissed and annoyed. I hope I never end up in a relationship with a man who has eyes for everyone else but me.

“I’m just wondering if we’re making a mistake going on a double date in an already busy restaurant,” I mumble and take a deep breath. “This just doesn’t feel like the best setting for a perfect first date.”

“Yeah, it’s not the location of my dreams either. I doubt we’re about to meet the next Mr. Darcy here.” She shrugs and pulls out her phone. I watch as she types something into the notes app on her phone. “The dream date starts off in a way that leads us to believe...” She pauses and grins at me. "Just taking notes for our first podcast."

“You choose the place, though,” I interrupt her. “If you knew that this place wasn’t the most romantic, why suggest it? Unless you set this whole thing up as fodder for an episode and not because you actually thought it was going to be an amazing date."

“I didn’t know what the setting was like.” She gives me an apologetic look. “I just saw it mentioned in a Reddit post for top new places to dine in the city. I thought it would be cute and quaint, like a Paris bistro.”

“This is nothing like a Paris bistro.” I frown as I look at the throng of people already seated and waiting in line like us. “I hope the guys will like it. They will be here in five minutes.” I look down at the last message I got via the dating app from Rudolpho and take a deep breath. I’m excited to finally meet him and see who his celebrity friend is. A frisson of excitement courses through my veins. It could literally be anyone.

“The men will love it.” She giggles. “Maybe they will love it and us so much that they will fly us to Paris for date number two, and we will drink champagne with a view of the Eiffel Tower.” She claps eagerly. “And what if they fly us first class? That would be to die for. On George Clooney's private plane.”

“That would be super cool.” I nod eagerly, but even I’m not that delusional. For some reason, I don’t foresee our blind dateswanting to spend twenty-five grand on a second date with us, but I haven’t lived the fairytale life that Erica has. My fingers touch my lips lightly, and I attempt to verify my lipstick is still on by looking at my reflection in an oversized photograph of the Brooklyn Bridge that hangs on the wall. “Do I need to reapply?” I ask Erica as she checks her phone. She looks up and nods slowly.

“Here, use this new lip gloss I got. It will give your lips a beestung look.”

“A what?” I frown as she reaches into the ridiculously expensive handbag that Wes got her for her last birthday.

“Beestung lips.” She giggles as she pulls out a small, gold, cylindrical-shaped tube. “It’s what all the models are using to get that full-lip look instead of filler.”

“Oh.” I take it from her warily. I’m not sure I’m the sort of woman who needs beestung lips, but I do have to admit, I’ve always wanted them to fill out a little more. “What do I do? Just apply it normally?”

“Yes, and then within a few minutes, they will slowly fill out so that you have that natural beauty look.”

“Natural beauty look?” I press my lips together. “But it’s not natural in any way. In fact, it’s the opposite of natural.”

“No need to be so literal, Sabrina. You know what I mean. It’s not like you’re going to look like the cat lady.”

“The cat lady?” I take the cap off the gloss and pull the small wand out. The brush glistens with bright red, juicy liquid. The color does look nice, but I’m unsure if I really want the beestung lips look. It’s not a look that I think looks great on many women, but I remind myself that I want to get out of my comfort zone this year, as staying in my safe zone hasn’t exactly catapulted me into living my best life.

“You know, the lady that had all that plastic surgery and ended up looking like a cat or tiger or whatever.”

“Umm, what?” I stare at her blankly. There’s a devious glint in her light brown eyes. Eyes that remind me so much of her brother’s. Only she gets on my nerves far less.

“OMG, I think that’s Rudolpho, your new man.” She takes a deep breath as her eyes widen. I can’t see my date, though, as he’s behind him. "No, don’t turn around to look, Sab,” she hisses at me as I go to turn my neck. My heart is racing as I quickly apply the gloss a couple of times and then hand it back to her. I press my lips together and smooth down my hair. My pineapple earrings jangle against the side of my face, and I hope Rudolpho likes them. “Oh, shit.” She moans slightly, and I frown.

“What is it?” I desperately want to turn around. Did she recognize her date?

“You’ll see,” she mumbles as her face turns red. I wonder if Rudolpho’s friend is a celebrity we hate or something. That would be ironic and somewhat funny. A good topic for the podcast. I have to keep reminding myself of the podcast; otherwise, I will just be filled with dread.

“Sabrina,” a deep voice sounds behind me, and I spin around with a polite smile on my face that remains plastered on as I take in Rudolpho and his friend. Oh, boy! Immediately, I know we are going to be in for a long night when I see that the two men are wearing black leather pants that are tighter than the Spanx I wear on nights when I’m really trying to impress. Rulolpho has on a white shirt, but his friend is wearing a long purple velvet jacket and has hair longer than Rupunzel’s when she lets it down. All right, that last part is a bit of an exaggeration, but his hair is long—and not silky long either. It is stringy, greasy, and half of it is dyed blue. I can tell that Erica is not impressed.

“You owe me,” she whispers as the men approach. “Big time. Who the fuck is his friend? A Z-list celebrity in Lithuania?”

“You’re the one who thought this was a good idea.” I suppress a giggle. She's right, though. Rudolpho's friend is no one I've ever seen before in my life.

“Why did you listen to me?” She plasters a wide smile on her face and pokes me hard.

“Ow.” I glare at her, but the stench of an overpowering cologne almost makes me gag as it fills my sensitive nostrils. I’m not sure what dollar store the scent has come from, but I do know that far too much of it has been applied.

“Sabrina the Teenage Witch, is that you?” Rudolpho’s voice is not sexy and smooth like I’d thought it would be, and I turn to him with a half smile, hoping it hides my grimace. I hate being referred to as the teen character. Melissa Joan Hart seemed like a cool actress, but we have nothing in common other than my real name and her fake one.

"Yeah," I say somewhat reluctantly.

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