Page 40 of The Billionaire Mismatch

“Unless one person is lying about that connection,” he says. “And it’s all a front.”

I bite my lip. I’ve hit a nerve, and despite it being a risky move, I am curious just what nerve that is.

“Why did you create a dating app?” I ask. “And don’t say because it looked like a lucrative opportunity. A man like you could come up with a million lucrative opportunities. Why dating apps? Why love?”

“Because the relationship I always believed in fell apart,” he says, and his words hit like a bullet.

I pause, careful before I go on. “Were you…married…?”

“No,” he answers flatly. “I’m talking about my parent’s marriage. And…their divorce.”

There it is. The reason why a man who never smiles, has the outward warmth of a shaken gin martini and the reputation of a womanizer (though I’m still on the fence about the last one) would throw his lifework into creating a dating app yet claims relationships are formulaic.

“You disagree,” he says.

“I do,” I say. “I think love is the only thing that makes sense in the world. And romance is a big part of that.”

“Romance is deceiving,” he says, and as our food comes, I simply smile at him.

“I guess we are going to have to agree to disagree.”

Chapter 13

Luca

No more whiskey.

I don’t know if it’s the bourbon or the salty air or the way Olivia looks in that colorful, backless boho dress, but it’s getting to my head. Maybe it’s the jasmine that’s fucking with me. I don’t know. But whatever it is, my lips are getting too loose. I need to stiffen up. Remember why I am here. Why she is here.

But as I grow quiet, she brightens up even more. Music breaks through the night air, and she stands up, looking over the banister down at the beach.

“There’s a party down there,” she says.

“I’m sure it’s a private event,” I say, dabbing my mouth with my cloth napkin.

“No, it’s the Crab Crawl,” the waitress says, and my eyes dart with irritation over to her. I hate everything about that sentence. But Olivia’s eyes grow curious and wild.

“What’s the Crab Crawl?” she asks.

“Food. Vendors. Drinks. Music. A bonfire at dusk, they’re probably about to light it any minute,” she says.

God…

“Can we go?” Olivia asks, turning around to face me with the eagerness of a kid that just spotted one of those sketchy pop-up carnivals.

And because of that enthusiasm and what I am here to do, I pay the tab and we go.

Keep in mind, I am not really dressed for a beach party. And I’m not a fan of sand. I know…it’s very Anakin of me, but it really does get on literally fucking everything. As I trudge through it in my wingtip shoes, I know for a fact I am just going to have to trash them at the end of the night. Date three shouldn’t put me out a thousand dollars, but I guess this is just where we are.

Olivia, of course, ditches her heels immediately, a full-blown grin on her rosy face as we head towards the chaos.

“I love festivals,” she says.

“Mm,” I hum indifferently.

“And bonfires. Look, they’re lighting the fire.”

Another “Mm.”