Page 9 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife

"What?" I frown at his comment. That is not what I expected him to say. My mind is no longer on how many millions I've lost today, and instead, on the two women. Or rather, in particular, one of the women. The woman who was not related to me. "My place, as in my penthouse apartment?"

"Yeah." Miles grins and pulls out his phone. "Erica called me to ask if you were still out of town and forgot to hang up, and I heard her telling Sab that they should go over there to get ready and to take pics for their profiles."

"Erica and Sabrina are currently at my apartment, getting ready for dates?" My heart races for a few moments, and I resist the urge to jump up and rush home. "And Erica didn't even bother to call me."

"She knows you would say no. Like you want her and her college friends hanging out at your place." He laughs, and I watch as he runs his hands through his thick, dark hair. Hair that resembles my own. In fact, Miles and I look very much alike, even though our personalities are quite different. I am the eldest, the serious one, the dependable one. He is the middlechild, the spoiled one, the playboy, the one who doesn't take anything in life too seriously. "Are you upset?"

"I'm not upset. Or rather, I'm notthatupset. I would have liked to have been asked, but what does that matter, right? I'm only the owner. The person who put down the money for the property. The deed is in my name. Or am I mistaken?"

"Sarcasm doesn't affect me."

"Whatever, but no, I had no clue that Erica and Sabrina were getting ready to torture two unsuspecting souls on a date. Good luck to them both."

"You would have said yes if she'd asked," Miles asserts as he jumps up and looks at his Rolex. "Erica can do no wrong in your eyes." He heads toward my office door and leans back against it. He reminds me of a jaguar: sleek, poised, and ready to pounce at any time. I wonder if that is how other people see me.

"That is factually incorrect." I study him as he texts something rapidly into his phone. I know it has nothing to do with work. He never looks that engaged and excited when it's about business. He's more of a predator in the office. Which is what I like. That's the quality we share in common. "You have somewhere to be?"

"Yes, I do." He grins and checks his watch again. "In fact, I need to be there in fifteen minutes."

"A business meeting?"

"On a Friday evening?" He gives me a crazy look. "I'm not you. I'm not a CEO; I don't have to work all hours of the day and night."

"You're the CFO of my company, though, so yes, I do expect you to work all hours," I tease him, though I'm not mad he's taking the evening for himself. Miles may be more carefree than me, but when it comes to business, he is on top of it. There's a reason why everyone on Wall Street refers to us as "The Wolf Duo." We are cutthroat when it comes to business, and there isno one else I'd have as a business partner. "Are you going to Grandma's place on Sunday?"

"Yes, she's making roast beef and roast potatoes with brussels sprouts and Yorkshire pudding." He rubs his stomach and beams. "I wouldn't miss it. Are you going to be there?"

“I should be." I nod and close my laptop screen. My mind is no longer on the scrolling numbers, and I decide to go home. I've been working hard all week and deserve a rest. "I think Grandma wants us all to be there this weekend; at least that's what Mom told me when she called to tell me off earlier this morning."

"Mom is on the rampage." Miles strides to the door and opens it before looking back. "Apparently, Dad forgot their anniversary again and only remembered when he walked into dinner and said his gift was giving her a massage."

"A massage?" I make a face. "Please stop. I don't think I want to hear the entirety of that conversation." Obviously, I know my parents have had sex. They have three kids, after all. I just don't want to think about them doing the deed.

"Oh, nothing happened. He fell asleep before he could even wash his hands. Mom said she was lying down on the bed for thirty minutes, waiting, before she realized he wasn't coming and that he’d fallen asleep on the couch."

"Yikes." I'm not sure what to say in response, and I'm glad that Mom chose to divulge her marital woes to Miles and not to me. Sometimes, I feel like my family shares far too much personal information with each other. Both Miles and Erica have inherited the oversharing gene, and growing up, I was filled with so much unwanted intimate information that I'd wanted to pull my hair out—multiple times.

"What's that box?" Miles heads back towards me, his eyes narrowed as he takes in the small Tiffany blue box in my hand. "Jewelry?" He sounds shocked. "Who's that for? Mom?"

"It's a bracelet, and no," I say, shaking my head. "I sent her roses for their anniversary."

"Always trying to be the best son." He laughs and rolls his eyes. "Pity she loves me the most anyway."

"I mean, she knew you needed at least one person to love you." I tease him as I head toward the door. "Shall we call it a day?"

"Yeah, but don't change the subject. Who is the bracelet for?" He opens the door, and we walk through the empty hallways to the elevator. Most of my staff have already gone for the day, as I allow all my employees to work half-days on Friday if they want to. It's helped me to retain some of the best analysts in the city.

"Someone." I press the button and wait for the elevator to arrive as I hold the box tightly.

"Let me see." Miles reaches for it, and I shake my head. He frowns, and I can tell that he's debating whether or not he can get away with putting me in a headlock or attempting to tackle me for the box. "So, do you have a hot date tonight, as well?"

"I keep my personal life personal."

"Okay, Mr. One Date Special." He rubs the side of his face, perplexed. "Or has that changed? Are you finally looking for Mrs. Right? Or have you found her? It's not that Ethiopian model you met in Paris last month, is it? What was her name again?"

"Her name is Aster, and no, she and I are not an item." I smile as I imagine what Aster would say if she heard Miles talking. She'd laugh in his face. We had been on a rather nice dinner date when she'd told me in no uncertain terms that she was not interested in being a notch on my belt and had only accepted my invite to dinner to get some advice on investing the money she was making while modeling, as she didn't know how long she'd remain popular.

"You're lying." His eyes widen as if he’s a detective and has just figured out a huge clue in a case. "You're totally smiling, thinking about her."

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