Page 6 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

I’m about to pay upwards of fifty grand for a painting, and I won’t award the work to an artist who is too flakey to make it to a meeting in a timely fashion.

The seconds tick past.

I swallow one more sip of my drink and then set the glass, which is still nearly full, aside and search for a server. I’m not going to sit here sipping a drink when I could be at home enjoying a much-needed massage from the high-pressure jets in my bath.

I spot the waitress who brought me the drink, raise my hand, and wave her over.

As she nears the table, I see her priming her blonde hair. She flutters her lashes at me as she approaches. “Yes, Mr. Knight? I hope you’re not leaving already.”

I’m used to being treated this way… like an eligible bachelor. Which, technically, I am. I don’t wear a wedding band.

However, the women who see that bare left finger and presume I’m looking for a mate have me all wrong.

I’m not some shark, on the move in the dark waters of this city at night until I bump into a single female.

On the contrary, I hope tonotbump noses with anyone. Especially not a single female. They’re the worst kind of person to bump into, in my experience. I’d rather be cornered by that Fizzy fellow at the bank than endure the fawning and fussing that most women lay on me any chance they get.

I barely look at the waitress as I pull my wallet out. “I’m afraid so. If you could clear my tab…” I slip my Amex Black Card from my wallet. But before I can hand it over to her, I catch sight of a woman hurrying across the patio area. She’s making a beeline for this table.

Ah. This must be Bella.

Her hair’s long and wild looking, a mass of black waves. She's wearing a simple black dress and black high heels that she seems uncertain about walking in, especially over the uneven, natural stone patio floor.

I can’t help but notice that she’s not what I expected when I agreed to this meeting.

When Fizzy mentioned her name at the bank, I conjured up a vague memory. The face I attached to her name had dirt-smudged round cheeks, messy hair, and a fiery look in her dark, defiant eyes.

This woman heading my way now, however, is not that pudgy-faced, spunky girl from my memory banks.

Bella Sinclair grew up into a beauty.

I hesitate, my hand on the card.

“Of course, I can settle your tab, Mr. Knight.” The waitress gives me a few more flutters of her fake lashes as she holds out her hand.

But I tuck the card back into my wallet. “On second thoughts, I’ll stay.”

“Oh?” My adoring server glances over her shoulder, notices Bella, and scowls. “Oh. I see.” Her shoulders slump, but she manages to paste a professional smile back on. She’s less flirtatious, now that she sees I have company. “Would you like me to get something for your guest?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

Bella reaches the table. “Damian Knight, right…? Hey. I am so sorry I’m late.”

I don’t bother answering the question of my identity, because clearly, she knows it’s me, seeing as she’s now lowering down into the chair across the table.

The candle between us flickers, casting a warm, golden glow over her features. Her eyes are still lively like I remembered. They’re chocolate brown, lined in black, and fringed in dark lashes. She scrunches her nose at me. “Whatisthis place? I’ve lived in the city for years and never even heard of it. And they held me captive outside—even though I said I was here to meet you.”

“Did they?”

“The bouncer left me waiting while he came in to check with management. I’ve never been to a place like this. Members only… whoo-ey! You really are a big deal these days, hm?”

So, she’s a talker.

I feel a headache edging in on my temples. As a rule, I don’t do well with talkative people.

I prefer peace and quiet. Solitude.

Again, I think of my waiting jacuzzi bath.

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