Page 13 of The Billionaire and I

My Porsche was double-parked out front. A disgruntled driver honked as I opened the door for Jenny. He yelled something unintelligible, but I smiled and waved. I climbed behind the wheel, still grinning. “I feel bad for that guy. He’sdefinitelynot having as good of a day as I am.”

“Ha! You’re funny, Cole.” She ran her hands along the interior of the car. “What is this, the CayenneTurbo?”

I laughed as I threw the car into drive. “You know your Porsches?”

“I know cars, yeah.” She had a mild Boston accent, just another thing I found inexplicably charming. I wanted to ask her what she drove, but I wasn’t sure what her situation was. I didn’t want to embarrass her.

“What’s your favorite kind?” I asked instead.

“Hmm, that’s a tough question.” She pouted, looking impossibly beautiful as she thought about it. “I guess I don’t know the answer. But if I could afford any car to buy today, I’d have to go with a Range Rover. ’Cause that’s what all the rich bitches drive.”

I laughed. “Is it? Is that what all the rich bitches drive?”

Jenny nodded. “I think so. Every time I see a Range Rover around town, there’s a hot, rich woman behind the wheel. I’d like to have a car like that.” Her cheeks turned a little pink. “Anyway, how do you like this car? It’s fast, right?”

“I love it—and yeah, it’s fast. Let me show you.” I threw the gear into sports mode and hit the gas. Jenny whoopedas I zigzagged between cars, more people honking at us and gesturing angrily.

“I feel sorry for those people!” Jenny laughed. “They’re definitely not having as much fun as we are!”

Hanover Streetin the North End was packed with tourists. I maneuvered around them and pulled up in front ofAlfonso’s, the finest Italian restaurant in Boston. Even though it was early afternoon, there was a line; people spilled down the sidewalk, waiting for a table. As soon as I put the car in park, a young man in a white shirt hustled out from the restaurant.

“Hey, Mr. Bryson.” He gave us a lopsided smile. “Can I park the car for you? Your usual table is ready.”

“Thank you, Luca. That would be great. By the way, this is Jenny. She’ll be joining me today.”

Luca grinned at Jenny, but good boy that he was, he looked directly into her eyes and not at her rocking body. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jenny. You will dine with us and love it. Long live Alfonso!”

“Long live Alfonso,” I agreed, climbing out and tossing Luca my keys and a hundred-dollar bill. “See you in there, kid.”

I put my hand on the small of Jenny’s back and steered her inside. The waiting customers gaped as we strolled past them. There was no valet parking at the restaurant, and the usual wait for a table was over three hours. Or so I’d been told—I never waited. Alfonso’s was one of my first investments when I started my VC business. Chef was forever grateful that I gave him his big break.

“Ah, lovely to see you, Mr. Bryson,” the raven-haired, sultry hostess said. She wore a form-fitting black jumpsuit that hugged her curves. She eyed Jenny up and down. “And this is…?”

Jenny thrust out her ample chest. “I’m Jenny, Cole’s new girlfriend. Nice to see ya. Is our table ready? I’m starved!”

The hostess did a double take, but she quickly recovered and smiled. “We have some great specials today. You’ll love it. Right this way.” She led us through the restaurant, which was luxurious but simple. The tables were large, reclaimed wood, the walls were exposed brick, and candles flickered throughout the room. Our table was at the end, facing out on the action.

Wisely, the hostess sat us side by side. I immediately put my hand on Jenny’s thigh, and she leaned into me. I inhaled her coconut scent again, wondering if it was addictive. It seemed like maybe it was—I couldn’t get enough of her.

The hostess asked, “Would you care for some wine?”

“Yes, please. TheBarbaresco Gajashould be fine.”

She nodded quickly. “Yes, Mr. Bryson.”

When she’d left, I pulled Jenny’s chair closer so we were touching. “Do you like red wine?”

“I sure do.” She surveyed the packed dining room. “This place is popular, huh?”

“That’s because it’s the best. What would you like to eat? Alfonso does a mean risotto…” Our server brought the wine and our menus. Jenny watched as he poured a sample and handed it to me. “I already know it’s great. Go ahead and pour the lady a glass.Salut,” I said before taking a sip.

Jenny grabbed her glass and raised it to mine. “Cheers.” She drank her wine in one sip. “Oooh, that’s good!” She happily opened the menu while the smiling server poured her another glass of wine.

“Now, what’s this…” Her brow furrowed as she read over the entrees. “What the heck is aFormaggio e Malazana?”

“It’s mozzarella and eggplant,” I answered.

“Ew, they could have just said so.” Her brow furrowed deeper. “What aboutPolpo Scottato?”

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