Page 55 of The Billionaire Mismatch

Sadie’s voice comes through the phone as soon as I answer it. I can’t blame her for being worried. Not only was the drive home the most awkward walk of shame ever (walk of shame? Drive of shame? Whatever…) but the Wi-Fi was spotty as hell and I wasn’t able to update her on my location.

“I know, I know. But I’m fine, I promise.”

Luca dropped me off at home five minutes ago, and I am frantically trying to get ready for work. I switch the phone to speaker so I can multi-task.

“So what happened?” she asks. “You went on date four and you went radio silent.”

“We went to dinner,” I say.

“Where? The moon?” she asks.

“Close enough,” I frown as I look at my reflection in the mirror. I look like hell. Between the rain and the bedroom activities that took place last night, I think it’s safe to assume it looks like thereare birds living in a nest on my head right now. I literally took nothing but a clutch with me, and a hairbrush just wouldn’t fit.

And Luca saw me like this. Great.

“What do you mean?” Sadie asks, jerking me back into the moment. “Olivia. I need to know all the things!”

“Right, right,” I say, dousing my hair in a week’s worth of leave-in conditioner spray before running my fingers through it. “He took me to dinner in Salem,” I say before pausing because I know she’s going to freak.

“Salem!? You went all the way to Salem for dinner? Why?”

“Traffic,” I answer, reaching for the hairbrush. “We got rerouted so far we ended up outside of the city. I suggested we go to Salem, and he went along with it, surprisingly enough. It was this cute little vegetarian place I saw on Insta–”

“So you ate broccoli in Salem. Then what?” she asks.

“Then it started to rain,” I wince as I brush my hair. Once it is more or less smooth, I pull it into a sleek ballerina bun because there’s no way it’s going to cooperate beyond that today. Then I turn on the water and get started on my face.

“You ate salad, and it rained. But that doesn’t explain why you are just now getting back to me,” she states, and I can tell by all the honking and screeching that she’s driving.

“Where are you?” I ask, slightly concerned. Sadie has never been a patient driver. She’s never been a patient anything, honestly.

“I’m driving to an interview,” she says.

“A job interview?” I ask. “You got a job interview? Where?”

“A fashion magazine, of all things,” she answers.

“Sadie! You will be so good at that!” I exclaim, as I soap up my face.

“We’re off topic,” she says. “So what happened? I am five minutes away and I need to know everything. Are we closer to catching him in his own net or not? You know, this whole thing has carried on a lot longer than I expected. I just want to see him when his trap backfires.”

“So it started to rain. Bad. And we knew we couldn’t get home safely, so we got a hotel room…”

“Of course. You know, I bet he planned that,” she sneers.

“Planned it?” I ask. “The accident that caused the traffic and the detour? And the rain?”

“Trust me, Livv. He’s a gifted man.”

Oh believe me, I know. But not in the ways you think.

“I don’t think he had an agenda,” I tell her. “He actually seemed grumpy most of the time.”

“Only most of the time?” She asks, and I can feel the ice cracking under my feet. I need to tread carefully from here on out.

“He lightened up a bit. The food was good, and the room was nice,” I say.

“Is that the only reason he lightened up? You didn’t have sex with him again, did you?”