Page 15 of The Billionaire Mismatch

That was a good line. That was a really, really good line.

But I can’t let that distract me.

Even if he has been charming.

Even if this is one of the better dates I’ve ever been on, and not just because the sushi here is about a bazillion times better than five dollar Fridays at the grocery store.

And even if his eyes are more stunning in person than on his profile picture, which is not how it’s supposed to work.

This man isn’t just a catfish. He’s a reverse catfish. It’s a new angle that I never saw coming, which means I am going to have to up my game.

“You know, I don’t know if tonight works for me,” I say.

But Luca doesn’t so much as flinch. “No pressure,” he says. “It’ll only get better with age.”

As many things do, apparently.

Did I mention that his silver streaks catch candlelight as much as they did the sunlight in his photos? It’s a shimmer that sends a shiver down my spine. Coupled with those strong hands and the scent of cedar that’s been wafting across the table all night.

No. Olivia? Pull yourself together. Cross your legs, get your panties under control, and remember why you’re here.

As the date comes to an end, I can’t decide if I am relieved or disappointed. I did what I came to do. He asked me to come over, and I didn’t say yes. Problematically, I didn’t exactly say no, either.

He walks me outside under a velvet sky peppered with stars. And for a moment, the evening just feels magical.

Because that’s what he wants.

Just before we reach my car, he grabs my hand and my heart jumps into my throat.

Also part of his plan.

Then he turns to face me, still holding my hand, with a glint of something untamed behind his eyes.

“It’s a Petite Sirah,” he tells me.

“What?” I ask, feeling suddenly breathless.

“The wine back at my place. It’s eight years aged. The sweet spot age for Petite Sirah. And…I don’t know when I’m going to go on another date again, so I might miss the opportunity to enjoy it,” he says.

“Oh, really?” I ask, doing my best to stay a little salty. Not spicy. Not sweet. Because he doesn’t know me, he just thinks he does. “Why don’t you know when you’re going on another date? Surely you have women lined up.”

“I don’t know when I’m going on another date because I haven’t asked you yet,” he says. “And even when I do, I don’t know what your answer will be.”

“You were going to ask me on another date?” I ask.

“I was thinking about it,” he says, dragging his lip between his teeth. “But I figured it should wait until this date is over.”

My heart is pounding in my chest so loudly I wonder if he can hear it.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn’t supposed to try this hard to see me again.

He was supposed to be a dick, and I was supposed to tell him to shove it where the sun don’t shine because he’s not God’s gift to women. I was supposed to walk away and leave him hanging. Because that’s the kind of guy Sadie said he is. A wine, dine and dash.

“You seem a bit…conflicted,” he says as he pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“Yeah. I just…I don’t know…”