Page 71 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife

"What do they say?

"Good things come to those who wait." He winks at me. "I'll be back in the office."

"You're not going to eat your dinner?"

"I think I'm good for now," he says. "But maybe I'll heat it up again later. I might be working late tonight, so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Do you want to leave your phone with me?"

"You can start tomorrow. I mean, seeing as you worked so hard tonight to make this delicious meal for me, enjoy yourself, watch TV, do some work, whatever you want to do. Make yourself feel at home, Sabrina. I'm just really glad you're here." He gives me another kiss on the cheek and rubs the top of my head and walks away, and all I can think is how annoyed I am.

Chapter Twenty

Wes

I'm still laughing as I think about the dinner Sabrina made for me a couple of nights ago, ramen noodles. She didn’t even get the ramen noodles right, though I suppose it was my fault for thinking that she was going to make filet mignon and scalloped potatoes, when I knew she didn't have much money. And I was the fool for thinking that she would want to make dinner for me, knowing that she didn't really want to live with me.

The past couple of days have been pretty uneventful. We haven't done anything, which I find to be quite irritating, but I don't want to cross her boundaries. Each night, I give her a kiss on the cheek, and then I turn over and go to sleep.

It is hard falling asleep, knowing she is in the bed next to me. Sometimes our legs touch or her hand will cross my chest, but I make sure to keep my distance. I don't want her to think that I’m only interested in her for her body. I don't want her to think that this is about sex. I want to get to know her on a deeper level.And even though it has only been a couple of days, I’m already starting to see who she is as a person.

She wakes up every morning about 6:45 a.m. and makes herself a cup of coffee and a slice of toast, then reads the news online. Then she does some stretches and has a shower. It’s interesting to see that she keeps a schedule.

Then she calls her mom. I can tell from the hushed and fervent conversations that something is going on, but I don't want to pry. If she hasn't told me, then it is something she obviously doesn't feel confident sharing with me.

That makes me feel sad. I want to be her confidant. I want to be the person she comes to if she has problems or issues. I could fix them so easily, but I know that is likely why she hadn't come to me. She doesn't want me to fix them. She doesn't want to be dependent on me or anyone else.

I find myself outside of a decrepit building in the Bronx, and I frown. This is the address for the Sherlock Investigation Office, but it looks like it is in the middle of a bunch of dilapidated buildings.

I can see a couple of guys hanging out at the corner, staring at me. I’m not sure if I should go inside the office or not. I don't want to get jumped.

I pull out my phone and call Tyler.

"Hey, man. What's going on?"

"Hey, Tyler. It's me."

"I know. What are you up to?"

"I've come to the Sherlock Detective Agency, the one you recommended?"

"Oh, cool, cool."

"I'm just a little apprehensive about going inside. It doesn't seem like it's in the best area, and?—"

"Dude, it's fine. Trust me. I know it's a little sketch, but they get the job done. I rather pay my money to someone that's doingthe job than to someone who just wants to be in a fancy building, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Just trust the process, dude. It's going to be fine."

"Okay. How are you doing, anyway?" I asked him.

"Can't complain. Got MVP in my last couple of games. Think I'm up for a new contract deal. People are saying 2-300."

"Awesome, and how are the women?"

"You know, can't complain about that, either." He starts laughing. "Can't keep a good boy down."

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