Page 20 of The Damaged Billionaire

“A date?” I repeat, my eyebrows hitting my hairline, not liking that piece of information one bit. I move in my seat, unsure how to take this news. It’s not like I can forbid it, tell her not to go. My chest feels tight as I try to process, wondering how on earth I can get her not to go on that date. She is a catch, one who no one else can find.

“Yes, a date,” she confirms with a bit of sass I’m not expecting, and I feel my teeth grinding before I try to relax.

“With whom?” I press, my eyes thinning, trying to sound like I don’t care. I want to find out who it is and break his legs so he can’t go and needs to cancel.

“Oh, a guy I met on an app.” Grabbing her tablet, she taps it to life to start our meeting like she didn’t just drop this bombshell on me.

“An app?” I ask a little too loudly, making her eyes snap up to me.

“Yes, an app,” is all she says, and I’m about ready to pull my hair out.

“Do you know what kind of men are on those apps?” I seethe. Does she have any idea what she is doing? Those men are animals. I know, I am one of them.

She sighs. “Yes, I know. I have received more dick pics to my phone over the past few days than I care to admit.”

“So, cancel it. Tell him you have to work,” I say, almost demanding it.

“But I don’t have to work,” she says with a shrug, ignoring my tone. “Besides, my sister told me I need to get out more and meet people, so that is what I am doing. Now, let’s review your social strategy. I want to ensure you are across it all before we put it in place starting tonight.” Putting her tablet on the desk between us, she effectively signifies an end to our conversation.

She talks me through the new plan, and while I crack my knuckles under the desk, my face remains impartial. She is good. The entire strategy is like something I would expect from a large corporation or one of those really trendy media companies. She has thought of everything from content, imagery, timings, collaborations, and sequences.

“So you are happy with it all?” she asks, packing her things, about to leave.

“It looks good, and I trust you,” I say, standing and walking around the front of my desk, just to be a little closer to where she stands.

“Good. My digital manager will roll it out starting tonight.” She gives me a small smile, her face soft and free of judgment, her eyes sparkling in my office lights.

“Speaking of tonight, where is this Romeo taking you?” I can’t help myself, I need to know. I can’t stop thinking about it. Who he is. What they will do. Will she let him touch her? Fuck, now I want to hit something.

“Oh, just a small restaurant in DC, nothing too fancy.” I swallow so I don’t say what I really want to say, which is, "Don’t go. Come out with me instead.” I will take her to the best restaurant, fuck, I will fly her to Paris for a meal in the Eiffel Tower if that will impress her.

“Well, have a great time,” I grit out, still not liking this situation, but not sure how to stop it. I can’t say anything. I can’t push her.

“Thanks. Oh, before I forget, I updated your diary. We are going to find you a dog this weekend,” she says, her smile wide.

“This weekend? So soon?” How can I get out of this harebrained scheme she has hooked me into? I am not sure I am ready for such a commitment, but then I look into her eyes, see her beaming up at me in delight, and I crumble.

“Yep. Be ready!” she singsongs as I nod and watch her turn and walk out of my office. I remain standing, gripping my desk to ensure I don’t follow.

I need to tread carefully. Balance the professional expectations she has with the very unprofessional thoughts that I have and hope that the date bombs.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - WILLOW

I feel like a moron sitting here. Candlelight creates a dim glow on the small and very intimate tables. The decor and music are on point for a romantic evening. It is all way too much for a first date. Already, the expectations of tonight are sky-high, and I am slightly nervous.

I had to swipe a lot to find this man, and even though he was reasonably good-looking and his profile said he worked in finance and loved animals, there was something about the few text exchanges we had that didn’t leave me filled with confidence that this evening would be a success. Maybe because I would prefer a different man to be sitting opposite me tonight. I could tell that Tennyson was jealous when I told him about my date. Part of me wanted him to say something. Tell me to cancel it and go out with him instead. But I know this is for the best. I need to push him, and any thoughts I have of him, to the side.

Besides, my sister was right. It has been months since I have been on a date. That one night in New York was the last time I was intimate with anyone, and I need to get out in order to find a yin to my yang.

But as I look around the room at all the other couples who look lovingly into each other’s eyes, hands grasped together on the table, my own hands start to shake slightly, and I take a tentative sip of my water. My date is late. And if there is anything worse than taking that first step of agreeing to a date, it is being stood up.

I try to act busy, looking over the menu, staring at it for so long that I already know I would like to have the farm roasted chicken with baby carrots. I then take out my cell and check my emails. I see my social manager has started with Tennyson’s newly curated feed and I look over image after image of him. He’s so hot my cell phone nearly melts in my hand.

“Willow?” a man’s voice says from beside me, and I jump a little in surprise.

“Yes. Roger?” I ask, subtly putting away Tennyson's sexy smirk and slipping my phone back into my purse as I give him a warm smile.

“Sorry, I’m late. I got caught up at the office,” he says, taking a seat opposite me, and I look him over. He is different from his online photos. Very different.

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