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Wife Wanted (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)(88)

By:Bella Grant
 
After discussing a few more details about the ball –food, flowers, seating, agenda– things that Nick didn’t care much about, Zia announced she was ready to leave.
 
“Well, I’ll see you at the office tomorrow,” Nick said.
 
“Hopefully you’ll be able to concentrate better,” Zia said, winking at him.
 
“What do you mean?” Nick asked. “The fact that I don’t care what roses we use for decoration doesn’t mean I’m inattentive.”
 
“That has nothing to do with anything, Nick. I know you very well. I dare say maybe there’s a girl on your mind,” Zia said.
 
“Well, maybe you need to mind your business,” he said, smiling at her.
 
“You’re getting defensive. You always get this way when you’re after a girl you can’t have.”
 
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
 
“You know exactly what I’m saying. Whatever girl you got on your mind is screwing with it. You barely heard half of what I said now. You need to fuck this girl and get over with it so I can plan this ball.”
 
“Zia!”
 
Zia had already risen and was heading to the door. Nick walked behind her again, letting his little sister take the lead as always.
 
 
 
 
 
SARA
 
The rest of the week dragged on, and Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. I went to work every day, hoping Mr. Rich would show up, but he never did, to my disappointment. Maybe I should have been nicer to him. He truly seemed to be a decent guy, even with his Rolex and limo.
 
In the evening after work, I played dress up, trying on my dress a million times. It was still as perfect as the first time I’d tried it on. My shoes fit perfectly even though they were a tad bit too high and sexy for me. And the diamond necklace looked fabulous with it. Sadly, I knew I couldn’t wear it. It was one thing accepting someone else’s invitation, but I could not accept someone else’s present. I would simply return the box to Mr. Saunders on Saturday and thank him for inviting me to the ball. And if the real Sara Nolles showed up, I’d slip away.
 
As the week slowly rolled by, my interest in Nick Saunders was piqued, and I picked up little titbits about him from Amy. I didn’t look him up online because I didn’t want to be intimidated. After all, he was only one of the richest and sexiest men on earth. I imagined he only dated skinny, sexy women, something I was proudly not. As the thought of dating crossed my mind, I blushed and admonished myself. We weren’t dating. We weren’t even friends. He didn’t know me. I didn’t know him. This was all just a miscommunication.
 
Finally, Friday night came, and as expected, Amy was ringing my doorbell as soon as I settled in with my Chinese takeout.
 
“Hi, Amy. The ball is not until tomorrow, you know,” I said as I opened the door before she could use her key. I knew Amy too well. She was probably too excited to wait for Saturday.
 
“Oh, but I want to sleep over so we can talk about all the things you can expect tomorrow.”
 
“Amy, it’s just a ball and I most likely will be kicked out before I even get in.”
 
“Don’t be too sure of that,” she said as she settled in comfortably next to me and picked up one of the paper takeaway bowls and scooped some of my fried rice into it. “How can you eat this crap?” she said as she took the first bite and almost spit it out.
 
“I love their food,” I said as I chewed on a piece of broccoli. I had ordered chicken and broccoli with fried rice for dinner.
 
“Enjoy,” she said as she went to the kitchen. Minutes later, she appeared with a sandwich.
 
“You know my kitchen better than I do,” I teased. “I had no idea I had the ingredients to make a sandwich.”
 
“You don’t,” Amy said dryly. “This is the most pathetic sandwich I’ve eaten in a while. No mayo, no ketchup. Do you ever go grocery shopping?”
 
“That’s what you’re here for.” I shrugged my shoulders, picked up the remote control, and started flipping through channels. Amy took it away from me and turned off the television.
 
“We need to talk about tomorrow,” Amy said, and without waiting for my response, she started talking about what she thought tomorrow would be like. I grunted my responses, mostly tuning her out because I was really tired of discussing it. The only reason I wanted to go to the ball was to see if I could speak briefly with Mr. Saunders about a chance to work for his company. If he met me face-to-face, he would see that I have enough experience to be an excellent addition to his staff. Amy was still talking when I dozed off.