Page 10 of Billionaire's Fake Wife: A Single Mom BWWM Romance

I compose myself, "What do you want?"

"Can't I even talk with you for a bit? Like we're friends or something," he tells me. I'm taken aback by his suggestion.

"I have work to do," I reply to him. Grant smiles at me. I grit my teeth, my gosh, how can he not notice that I don't want to talk to him?

"Well, I need to have a wife… and I believe that you're perfect for that position," he replies to me.

"Are you crazy?" I ask him. What the hell is he talking about?

"I need a wife to control the company," Grant says to me. "You can have any position you want after we get married."

"Any position?" he got my attention with his statement. At first, I thought he was crazy, but… this latest statement changes my mind.

"Yes, any po-si-ti-on," he enunciates the word. A promotion… I can get a fucking promotion with this. A better position… my dream all my life.

Finally… I'll get what I want. Recognition and a position. If I continue with my status right now… I'll turn old before it ever happens.

"I can see that you're interested," Grant stands. "Let's discuss things over dinner."

I take a deep breath, I can't let this opportunity pass by. Opportunity comes knocking once, and I need this. I've been fighting for this for almost half my life.

"Dinner, then," I reply to him without batting an eye.

"Decisive," he gazes at me. "Perfect, I like it. See you around, Sonya."

"Yeah, see you around, Grant," I reply to him. I watch him walk away.

Grant's offer is really tempting.

My eyes widen when I realize that I didn't ask him for the time. I run to follow after him… but then I notice the simple card on my table with only a number written there.

I guess we'll be calling each other. I'm looking forward to it.

Six

Grant

"Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?" A man wearing clothes that signifies that he's a waiter in this fine establishment, asks me with a mega-watt smile.

I smile in return.

"Yes. It's under Fields," I tell him.

He looks at some sort of list that he's carrying, probably to check if my name is on it. Just as the man is about to open his mouth to confirm my reservation, a familiar face approaches, and interrupts.

"Mr. Fields, it has been a while since you last dined with us. Your table is already waiting for you," Henry, the manager of this establishment, says with an accommodating smile on his face.

The waiter seems to have realized that I'm a VIP of this restaurant as his eyes widen slightly.

"I'm terribly sorry I did not recognize you, sir," the waiter apologizes profusely, while Henry gives him a rather stern look.

I shake my head, chuckling at the man's obvious display of nerves.

"It's fine. You seem new, and as Henry has said, I haven't come here in a while," I say, waving my hand dismissively as to convey that it's really no big deal. The waiter bows his head.

"Thank you, sir. I am John, by the way," he introduces himself.

"Good to meet you, John," I tell him. I then focus my attention on Henry.

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