Page 12 of Grumpy Billionaire Seeking Wife

"Your looks." He looks me up and down, slowly this time. "It's been a while since I've seen you, and you've definitely filled out." His eyes linger on my tight top with the padded bra, and I pretend not to notice as I push my chest out. My boobs are definitely not as big as the bra would have men believe, but I am no longer annoyed at the fifty dollars I paid for the extra padding. Even if the only person, other than Erica and me, who has admired it is Wes "Always Getting on my Nerves" Carrington.

"I have no response to your stupid comment." I look over at Erica as she walks back into the room and attempts to pick up the heavy-duty black tripod and DSLR camera that sits atop it so she can hide it.

"I already saw the camera, Erica." Wes spins around in true big-brother fashion. "I only hope you girls weren't attempting to start a career on OnlyFans in my apartment." He chuckles as if he thinks his comment is funny. I feel annoyed all over again. All this man has to do is talk, and he gets on my nerves. "Breathe, Sabrina." He looks back over at me and winks. "I don't need you huffing and puffing and having a heart attack. I have work to do tonight. I do not have time to take you to the hospital."

"Wes, we just wanted to get cute pics for our dating profiles, and you have to admit, your view is gorgeous." Erica walks over to one of the windows and looks over. "I read in this book that like attracts like, so if hot, rich men see us in this grandiose apartment, they will be more likely to match with us."

"They will think we also come from money and, as such, won't think we're gold diggers," I conclude. "It's not that we're here because we want to see where you sleep." I mean, I did wantto check out his bedroom, which I wasn't going to be able to do now, but there is no way in hell that I’m going to tell him that. Or Erica, for that matter. I don't want her thinking I’m a creep because I want to see her brother's bed. And possibly sit on it. And roll around. Not because I want it for myself. At least not for present-day me. Teenage Sabrina, though. Teenage Sabrina would die to be in Wes's bedroom, sniffing his pillow...like some creep. Shit, I'm about to call the single white female stalker club on myself.

Get it together, Sabrina, I mentally lecture myself.

"Sounds like a great plan. There's only one problem I see, though..." Wes heads back to his sectional, sits down, and grabs his remote control. Erica and I both watch as he turns the TV on and flicks through the channels.

"And that is…what?" Erica sounds as irritated as I feel. If he's going to start a sentence that could be meaningful to us, he really needs to finish it, but I suppose billionaires feel like they don't have to finish sentences like ordinary people.

"Do you both really think that rich, famous, and handsome men are going to be on those apps you both use?" He smirks. "As someone who fits into all three categories, I can emphatically say you wouldn't catch me dead on an app."

"Oh, hell no." Erica pretends to vomit, and I groan loudly. "We are not having this conversation."

"You wish women would want you on an app." I take another huge gulp of beer and head over to the couch with Erica. "I will throw this on you to give you some humility if you want."

"You wouldn't dare." His thick brows furrow as he faces me, a challenge in his eyes. "I know you wouldn't get cheap beer all over my ten-thousand-dollar suit and even more expensive couch."

"Oh, shut up." Erica sits next to him and hits him in the shoulder. "If Mom and Dad could hear you right now, they'd disown you for being a douche."

"Perhaps." Wes nods as he laughs and wraps his arm around his sister. "Anyway, as I was saying. As someone who fits into all three categories...I would never be on an app like that."

"Well, goody for you." I sit next to Erica and take another chug. The beer is still tasting as shitty as ever. "Not everyone is a snob like you."

"I'm not a snob." He smirks. "I just have discerning taste." He shrugs and looks at Erica and then at me. "Maybe the two of you should focus on graduating and your careers, or lack thereof, and leave the men for later." He shrugs. "I mean, this can't be your whole life, right? Aren’t you both almost twenty-one now?" He chuckles. “Or is that just how old you act?”

“I’m turning twenty-two soon.” I ignore his latter comment. “Just because you’re twenty-something, going on eighty, doesn’t mean that we can’t embrace our youth.”

"Don’t be a hater, big bro!" Erica shakes her head vehemently. "Just because we're not billionaires like you, doesn't mean we're not just as focused on school and our jobs as you are on yours. You do realize that we are launching our podcast next week, and we're going out tomorrow morning to speak to small business owners to see if they want to sponsor us." Erica looks over at me and grins. "Though, depending on how well our dates go tonight, it might be tomorrow afternoon."

"You got that right." I giggle and play with my pineapple earrings. I saw a similar pair at a farmers market and was immediately drawn to how cool and funky they were. So, I'd made my own with polymer clay. Maybe they were slightly too big for my ears, and maybe the yellow of the pineapple was a bit fluorescent, but I thought they were super unique. "Tonight is going to be a good night."

Wes frowns slightly as he continues to stare at me, and I feel a bit uncomfortable. I shift from playing with my earrings to playing with my hair. I wonder if I have time to get a trim, as I'm feeling more split ends than I would like. He jumps up off the couch and heads back to the kitchen to grab another beer.

"So, tell me more about this podcast." He sits on one of the tall wooden bar stools next to his humongous Carrera marble island and faces us. "Mom and Dad mentioned that you guys were working on something, but I have to admit that I wasn't fully paying attention, as you both seem to jump from new business idea to new business idea."

"No, we don't," Erica protests. "We?—"

"One, the dog-walking business you had before you lost that one dog in the park." He counts on his fingers. "Two, those poems you used to make up and write on the street for five dollars that absolutely no one wanted; three, when you were plant nannies..." He pauses and bursts out laughing as he remembers something. "How many plants did you both kill?" He shakes his head. "You should have called it thedry thumb plant killers."

"Hey, no fair." Erica makes a face and looks at me. We both try not to giggle at the list of businesses we've attempted to start. Granted, most of them were high school ideas, and we didn’t have a clue about business, but now, we have a dream that could actually be successful. Erica almost has her degree in business, while I almost have mine in history and English, which will help with our research.

"We aren't all lucky enough to invest in the right stocks in college and then start our own business that gets bought out by a Fortune 500 company for 300 million and then take over our family business," I say, staring at Wes, who is looking far too handsome for his own good.

"It wasn't luck." He taps his slender tan fingers against the countertop, and I wonder what he's thinking. "And you both know that my offer to have you go through the internship program at Carrington Enterprises is still open to both of you."

"No, thank you," Erica says as if she hasn't had this conversation with her parents umpteen times already. "But if you want to be our first official sponsor for our podcast, we would be more than happy."

"What is your podcast about, exactly? Wearing weird and tacky clothes to entrap billionaires?" He laughs at his own joke while we both glare at him. "Sorry, I'm guessing you don't find my humor amusing." He shakes his head and looks thoughtful for a moment. "I have an idea. Why don't I take you both to dinner tonight, and we can discuss the podcast. I can see if I'm interested in?—"

"We have dates tonight." Erica points at him. "Why would you even suggest that?" She looks annoyed. "Come on now, Wes."

"It's tonight or no night." Wes stands up again and takes his tie off completely. "I'm completely booked this weekend, and then I'm off to France for a business trip on Monday." He proceeds to unbutton his shirt, and I wonder if the AC in his apartment has stopped working because all of a sudden, I'm starting to sweat.

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