Page 32 of Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire

"Oh my God, I’m going to die. That’s it, guys. I will speak to you when I’m a spirit in heaven because, right now, my body is about to leave this earthly plane. I’ve got to go." I can feel my body tense, and I want to cry. I hang up and stare at the ceiling. This is possibly the worst day of my life.

My phone pings. I’m going to ignore it, but I know I can’t.

It’s a reply from Ethan. My heart races.

I’m not going to read it.

I’m too scared to even look at it.

I click it open. I need to know what he has to say.

12

Ethan

I stare at the email that Sarah sent me this morning and read it for the hundredth time. Each time I read it, I don’t know what to think.

"Is this woman crazy?" I exclaim for what must be the tenth time.

"Did she seriously ask me if I was going to bring dollars to the meeting on Monday?"

I want to chuckle because it’s kind of funny. But I know, as the boss, I can’t just let it go. I just don’t get her, and that is something that makes me uncomfortable. Normally, I know what a woman wants, especially from me. Normally, they want to win me over and bed me or try and catch me, as old-fashioned people would say, but Sarah Kahan, I have no clue what she’s really after.

Does she want me for a night? Does she want me for life? Does she just not want me at all? Is she just a weirdo? It’s looking very likely that she’s a weirdo, but I just don’t know. There’s something about how her blue eyes twinkle when she’s being sarcastic or angry and how the dimples in her cheek deepen when she laughs at something she thinks is funny.

It set off something in me when I saw those dimples; it made me feel proud that I brought them out and made her laugh. You wouldn’t even know she had dimples half the time because she always seems so judgmental and annoyed. Though, that thought is a bit of a stretch because I don’t know her very well, had never even noticed her before this week, so I don’t know if that’s how she always looks or conducts herself.

I stare at my response and wonder if she’ll reply.

"Today’s meeting is back on. Meet me at my home address at noon."

I don’t know why I suggested that. It had been impetuous and impulsive, and a gut reaction to her stating that she was interested in knowing how many singles I was going to bring to the meeting on Monday.

I should meet her in my office; that’s professional, but I feel like we’ve already crossed the line from professional. I feel like we’re teetering on an invisible line of flirtation, hate, and animosity all in one.

I can tell we both aren’t sure what to make of each other. I can also tell that she doesn’t absolutely hate me. There was a little bit of flirtation on her side, as well, but I know that she was cautious. I know that she also thinks I’m an arrogant prick, which isn’t surprising, as many women think that about me. In fact, it was a persona I craved, a way to keep the women at bay who believed they could break down my walls and get a sixth date with me.

I don’t know how she’s going to respond to my email. Maybe she’ll say she’s quitting. Maybe she’ll say she’s reporting me to HR for being too friendly. Though, that isn’t very true, my email was anything but friendly, but maybe she thinks I’m trying to solicit her.

I don’t know. It does make me slightly tense wondering what she’s thinking. I am about to email her again when I see that she responded. I open it immediately.

"If I’m coming to your house, I need to know your address."

I smile widely, my heart racing. Fuck! What have I done?

"So, she’s coming," I mutter. I jump out of my chair, head toward my large floor-to-ceiling windows, and stare at the skyline. I don’t know why I’ve invited her to my place. I don’t know what the conversation will be about. I don’t know how to ask her about the personal ad and why she did it or her response about the money. I don’t know what she wants or what she’s expecting. All I know is that I want to see her. I want to talk to her, and I want it to be in an environment that isn’t one hundred percent work-related, which is weird because our conversation will be one hundred percent work-related.

I know I have no other option other than to be professional.

I’m not going to flirt with her any more than I already have. Perhaps this will be a test to see if the ad was truly a mistake or not.

Maybe she was testing the waters to see if I’d bite. So maybe I’ll test the waters to see if she’s trying to test me. Maybe this is a way for me to figure out if she’s just trying to catch herself a billionaire whose name is Ethan Rosser or not.

She most probably saw the article. In fact, hadn’t she told me she’d seen the article?

Interesting.

Maybe she thinks I’ll be the one to provide her the penthouse, which is definitely not going to happen. I don’t even live in a penthouse, though I could if I wanted to. I feel like it’s pretentious, and I am not pretentious. Well, not about most things. There is a certain element of pretentiousness that comes along with being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and having a Harvard MBA, but that is because of other people’s perception, not because of who I am. At least, that’s what I hope.

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