Page 69 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife

"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."

"Thanks," I say. I watch as he heads to his office and then sit on the edge of the bed and rub my temples. This is going to be a lot harder than I anticipated. Finally, I pick up my plastic bag and head to the kitchen. I see a speaker in the corner, and an idea suddenly strikes me. I have an idea how to get the party started. I walk over to the speaker, turn on the Bluetooth on my phone, and connect it. Once it's connected, I go to YouTube and select theCarmenopera. I press play and turn the volume up loudly. It takes two minutes before Wes heads out of his office and into the kitchen. He looks confused. I continue singing the opera as loudly as I can, even though I know I'm out of tune.

"Hey," he says, but I pretend I can't hear him as I open drawers to look for different cutlery. "Hey, Sabrina!" he shouts. I pretend yet again I still can't hear him and sing even louder. Finally, I feel his hands on my waist, spinning me around. “Hey,” he says, his eyes slightly dazed. “I was speaking to you.”

“Oh, sorry,” I say, laughing, pretending that I can't tell he's slightly annoyed. "What's going on?"

"The music, it's really loud. Can you turn it down a little bit?"

"Oh, but I love to play loud music when I'm cooking. It just makes me feel free, like I am Julia Child or some other famous chef."

"Okay, but I'm trying to work."

"But don't you just love the opera, Wes?" I pull away from him and start singing loudly."I love the opera. We should go tothe opera," I say excitedly, grabbing his hand. "Oh, my gosh. Do you want to go? Let's look for tickets," I sing loudly, and I can tell from his expression that he thinks I am losing it.

He frowns slightly and shakes his head. "I don't know. I guess. Can you please turn it down a little bit?"

"Fine," I say and turn it down one notch so that it's still blasting. "Oh, I just love this song. This is when Carmen meets..." I pause as he opens the fridge and grabs a beer. "Hey, you shouldn't be drinking before dinner. I don't want you to ruin your appetite."

He looks over at me. "It's one beer."

"Wessy Wessy," I say in a baby voice. "Don't you think you should listen to me? I'm going out of my way to make you the most delicious Sabrina-esque dinner, and you're going to ruin your appetite drinking a beer. I don't think so." I walk over to him and tap him on the nose. He narrows his eyes slightly. I grab the beer from his hand and take it from him. "You can have it once dinner is served, okay?"

"Okay. Can you turn the music down a little more?"

"Fine," I say with a deep-suffering sigh and turn it down to a more palatable level. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'll be in the office, waiting for my Michelin star meal." He cocks his head to the side. "I'm really looking forward to it."

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