Wife Wanted (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)(17)

 

“Sorry, unexpected guest. Remind me later that we need to dig a bit deeper on Diane Chandler and William Yancey. She’s up to something.”

 

“She was in your office? What the hell did she want?”

 

“Well, first she tried to shove her breasts in my face—fakest I’ve ever seen—and then she asked me to ask her to marry me,” he muttered.

 

Silence met his words as his pen scratched out his signature on one form, then two.

 

“Ah, Ben, you still there, buddy?”

 

“Sorry, just processing. She’s almost old enough to be your mother.”

 

Riley fought back a shiver. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. Thanks for that mental image.”

 

“You’re welcome. I’m assuming you said no?”

 

“Nope, I said yes and we’re getting hitched next week. What do you think I said?” He laughed in disbelief. “Seriously, Ben, I’m desperate, but I don’t have a death wish.”

 

“She would try to kill you,” Ben mused.

 

“Poison. That’s how she’d do it.”

 

“You think?”

 

Riley glanced at the phone, amused. “Yeah, why, what do you think she’ll do?”

 

“Smother you with her fake boobs, what else?”

 

“Very funny.” He laughed as Ben cackled through the line. “I’ll be down in five. Don’t laugh yourself into a coma.”

 

“No promises. That image is going to entertain me for weeks.”

 

“And you’re supposed to be my friend,” Riley said and hung up on him. He signed the last few papers, tucked them away in the folder, and set it in his outbox for Linda to pick up Monday. It was Friday night, which meant everywhere was going to be crazy. Ben hadn’t even said which restaurant he was meeting this mystery woman at. He just wanted to go and get it over with…then take a nice hot shower and try not to picture anything to do with Diane Chandler.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

 

Phoebe felt her heart stuttering in her chest. She’d stopped by the hospital very briefly to see if her mother was awake, but she was still out. The doctors thought it was best for the time being, until her head healed more. The last thing they wanted was for her to wake up and realize she’d been hurt. Last time, she’d had a severe episode and nearly injured herself further. Phoebe had held her hand and smoothed back her graying hair around the bandage, promising that soon, everything would be better. She would do whatever she had to.

 

“Whatever I have to,” she whispered aloud, then headed across the street.

 

It was busy. Typical for the city on a Friday night. People shouted, horns honked, and sirens howled off and on in the distance. Usually, she stayed in on nights like this, curled up with a book and a bottle of wine…or three. The last few months had been rough and only gotten worse. This was not where she’d wanted to be in her life. Not what she wanted to be doing, yet here she was, stuck in a rut, waiting for some random knight in shining armor to rescue her. But fairy tales weren’t true. Real life didn’t work that way.

 

She stood under the awning of the casual Italian restaurant and tried to keep an eye out for her date. He had put a picture up of himself, but she still hadn’t. That, and he didn’t even know her real name. She kept repeating it to herself over and over. Anna, her middle name was Anna, and that’s what she was going by tonight. At least until she knew this guy wasn’t some psycho killer. Mitch. His name was Mitch Harper. He had nice, gentle eyes in his picture, and he’d looked in good shape, had a sweet smile…Phoebe grinned just thinking about him. Maybe Charlotte was right and this night wouldn’t be a nightmare. It could be the answer she was looking for.

 

Or it could be a few hours of hell.

 

A cab pulled up alongside the curb as thunder rumbled overhead. Another spring storm was rolling in and looked like it was going to spill over the city any second. Phoebe was going to head inside until she saw the man get out of the cab.

 

“Mitch?”

 

The man glanced up and smiled. “Anna? Hi, sorry I’m a bit late,” he said, then turned and paid the cab driver. “Things ran a bit long at the office.”

 

“No problem. I was a bit early.”

 

They stood there awkwardly for a second before he held out a hand and she took it, hoping he didn’t feel her sweaty palm. “Well, then, it is very nice to meet you, Anna. Shall we go in before it storms?”

 

He gestured for her to go ahead of him as he held the door. Phoebe had only been to this place once—on a date, funnily enough. It had ended well, but the relationship had petered out. Maybe it was bad luck to come to the same place. Should she have asked to go somewhere else? Too late now. You’re here, just go with it, she nagged herself silently as the hostess showed them to a table towards the back corner where it was a bit quieter. She also saw Mitch slip the woman a fifty before he pulled out a chair for Phoebe.