Page 3 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife

“Itsuddenlyhit you?” Erica raises an eyebrow. “The man’s been dicking every undergrad he can on campus.”

“Well, I didn’t like to think of that.” Suki frowns and then stops immediately as she says frown lines lead to wrinkles, and it’s never too early to start worrying about wrinkles. She says that’s why she rarely smiles, as well. Suki is a funny one. I’m not sure if we would have been friends if she hadn’t been roommates with Erica freshman year, even though I’d wanted to be roommates with Erica, as we’d been best friends since we were kids.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Helena says finally. “He was bad news.”

“I guess.” Suki makes a face. “Now I’m in the singles’ club with you losers.”

“You were always in the singles’ club, girlfriend.” Erica rolls her eyes and grabs her glass to take another drink. “We should all join a dating app and go speed dating. That would be fun.” She looks at me. “Right, Sab?”

“I mean, I guess.” I pull out my phone to see if Connor has texted me yet. Nothing. “It would be nice to go on a few dates and try to meet the love of my life.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t count on that.” Erica is always the practical one. I think it might stem from having two older brothers who never seemed to settle down. “But it would be fun and could lead to some awesome stories for the podcast.”

“True,” I nod. My heart races as a phone starts beeping, but I quickly realize it’s not for me.

“It’s Wes,” Erica says, staring at her phone. Wes is her eldest brother, a man I love to hate. He’s gorgeous and rich and now runs their billion-dollar family business. But I still remember when he was just a guy, walking around her house, annoying the shit out of me. “Let me see what he wants.”

“Okay.” I feign disinterest in the call, even though the mere mention of Wes Carrington’s name makes my heart pound. The image of him half-naked in a towel, dripping with water after a shower, is clear in my head. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. He’d given me a wide grin and shook his wet hair, getting some drops on me. “Sorry for making you wet.” He’d almost whispered the words, and I’d practically melted into the ground. I still want to die of embarrassment at the thought of what happened next. I am not going to think about it. As far as I am concerned, Wes Carrington and I no longer exist on the same planet. It is definitely difficult to lead that delusional life, being best friends with his sister, but I have successfully been able to avoid him for the last year.

“What’s up, big bro number one? I’m here with the girls, grabbing dinner...” She pauses and grins. “Sabrina, Suki, and Helena. No, we’re not going to get into any trouble.” She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. What did you want?”

I look over at Suki, who is motioning to one of the servers to place an additional order. “Will you ask him to bring some more gyoza, as well, please?”

“Of course.” She nods. “I love potstickers.” She looks over at Erica and leans forward. “Tell your hottie brothers to come and join us. I’m single now and ready to mingle.”

Helena groans loudly, and I just look away and blush. I do not want to see Wes, and if he shows up, I will have to find a reason to leave.

“He’s out of town,” Erica says, as she shakes her head. “And Miles is at a concert for some jazz musician I’ve never heard of.”

Phew!

“No, Wes, no one was asking anything about you. I will speak to Mom and Dad next week and let you know how I feel about the idea. I’m not super into it. You know that Sabrina and I are starting our podcast. I hope that’s hugely successful by the time we graduate in May, and...fine, I’ll speak to you later.” She hangs up and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “The big bro doesn’t seem to think that our podcast idea is a winner.”

“He’s just a hater,” I say, though I don’t actually disagree with him. I find it very unlikely that we’ll both be able to live in Manhattan off the money we make from our upcoming podcast. Erica seems to think we will be hugely successful, but I don’t know if she understands how hard it is to actually make money. She grew up as the spoiled only daughter of a billionaire, and while she’s never acted like a spoiled princess, she certainly has never wanted for anything in her life. Not like me. As the only child of a single mom, I’ve known what it is like to worry about being able to pay the bills and have enough for groceries. I can still remember the sound of my mom crying in her bedroom, but that may have been due to my dad leaving us, alongside our dire finances.

“Yes, he is.” She grabs another french fry, dips it into some ketchup, and takes a bite. There’s a thoughtful expression on her face, and I wonder what scheme she is thinking up. I know her well enough to know when she’s coming up with a plan becauseI’m often the one she ropes into said plan, and they normally always end up horribly. “So, I have an idea,” she says gleefully, and I groan loudly.

“I knew it,” I mumble and wait for her to continue. Her brown eyes are bright as she garners our attention. She waits for me to become silent again and then continues.

“So, we’re all single, right?”

“I mean I am, unless Cody—” Suki starts and then stops as we all give her intimidating stares. “Fine.” She presses her lips together.

“Let’s all join this new dating app I read about online,” Erica continues excitedly. “It’s this cool app where you meet really hot guys, but it’s different in that you can go on a group date.”

“A group date?” Helena looks as skeptical as I feel. “How does that work?” She and I exchange glances and a brief smile. We are both thinking the same thing. This already sounds like a bad idea.

“Well, we all create our own accounts and attempt to match with some good-looking, fun-loving men. The first one of us to make a good connection will set up a date, and then we will all go on it. So it will be four on four, as opposed to one on one.” She beams as if her explanation is reasonable and fun-sounding. It sounds absolutely atrocious to me. “So, who’s in?” She whips out her phone. “Let's all download the app now.” She turns to me with a flick of her hair, and her lips curl up. “Don’t overthink it, Sabrina. Even if the dates don’t work out, it will be perfect fodder for our podcast. You’ll see.”

“I guess.” I reluctantly grab my phone and place it in her hands so she can download the app for me. The last thing I want to do is go on more bad dates, but I’d rather have the possibility of a good date than wait for Connor to text me. As far as I am concerned, the poet is well and truly dead to me. He can lie inthe graveyard in my head, right alongside Wes, never to be in my thoughts again.

Chapter Two

Wes

"I find that to be one of the biggest obstacles I've had to encounter since I've been in the city." Jeremiah Astor sits back, his voice tight as he takes a sip of his cognac. His gray- white hair is cut neatly and gives him a distinguished look. His cold blue eyes are keen as he eyes me casually, trying to see if he's irritating me. "There are still those who belong to the old guard. They still value old money over new." He sips the liquor with an air of contentment. This is his happy place, and while I hate being here, I agreed to join him because I very much want to do business with him. Or rather, take over one of his businesses. And if it means being in a stuffy room on the Upper East Side, surrounded by old-school snobs, then that is what I’ll do.

"I see." I nod as I grip the solid crystal glass with the hundred-dollar old-fashioned I was just served by a butler. We are sitting in a club that has its origin story in the 1850s, and I feel extremely uncomfortable. I am the opposite of what everyone in this room stands for, and it's apparent in my looks,as well. My hair is dark brown, as close to black as it could be, and slightly too long; my eyes are a dark, brooding brown, my skin an olive tan that gives away the fact that my heritage doesn't relate to the kings and queens of England. My hands are calloused, due to many years of toil and hard labor, though not because I needed to grind so hard. My stature is built, my muscles strong, my suit not made by the best tailors on Saville Row and flown over from London. I don't fit in, but I'm not intimidated. I just don't want to be here.

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