Billionaires Bundle

By: Flora Ferrari

“He has a sister?”


We both laugh again. His joke is simple, but effective. He’s making me feel more relaxed which will make our little rendezvous easier.

I don’t want to get caught, but it might be too late. If the waiter’s already noticed us then I’m guessing others might as well. I just can’t have this getting back to the theater, not that I’m not proud and excited to be on a lunch date with Brian. I actually hate that I feel like I have to sneak around. Sure, it feels kind of mischievous and fun, but I know I can balance things for myself. I have no intentions of breaking the relationship rules that were very much harped upon when I signed my contract, but I think my personal life is up to me…but I agreed to the terms so I should honor them.

Plus this isn’t a relationship. We’ve only shared one kiss, and although that kiss felt like fireworks over the Hudson on the 4th of July, it was still only one kiss. Today’s just a meeting between old acquaintances…at least that’s what I’m telling myself. For all anyone else knows, he could be a donor and this a simple lunch meeting in an attempt to secure more funding.

When the waiter comes back around I go with the crab. It’s described as sautéed Maryland and Maine crabcake, uni vinaigrette, sliced avocado, herb salad, and basil aioli…and it’s too perfect to resist.

He chooses the Wagyu Steak Tartare, with its hand cut Kobe style beef with quail egg, Cognac gelee, traditional garnish, toast points.

We joke about how big, or small, the portions might be.

“There was one…ahem…portion…that I noticed wasn’t very small.”

“Which one was that?” he asks.

“The one I felt pressing into me last night.”

“So you felt that,” he says.

“How could I miss it? I thought the Statue of Liberty was poking me in the stomach.”

“Well, the Statue of Liberty does stand for freedom, and last night that thing you felt poking you certainly wanted to be freed.”

“Is that so?” I ask, taking a drink of my water.

I see a few eyes looking at me and I’m not sure if it’s because they recognize me from the performance, him, or they overheard our conversation. Getting used to this new way of living is going to take some time.

“Very much so. And did you know Gustave Eiffel built the Statue of Liberty while in France, sending it over in crates?”

“I did.”

“Proving that he successfully balanced a life working on separate continents.”

“You’ll start coming to New York in crates?”

“Unlikely, but I do see myself spending a lot more time in the city now.”

“What about your business?”



“It’s international. I’m often flying to meet clients, old and new. It’s a face to face business, so where I lay my head to sleep is less important than where I am during the working day. New York has one of the biggest art scenes in the world. It’s a natural fit, and one I should expand into.”

“But you weren’t planning on expanding into it, were you?”

“Two days ago?”

I laugh, knowing where this is going.

“Business changes by the second. You have to be adaptable or you’ll get passed by.”

“And you’re adaptable?”

“It depends on what I want, and what I stand to gain.”

“And what might that be?”

“Your crab, madame,” the waiter says. “And your Wagyu Steak Tartare, sir.” The waiter stands at the end of the table as if waiting to see if we need anything else. “Bon appétite,” he says, and leaves us to each other.

I want to continue this conversation, but I want to eat even more. I’m starving, having skipped breakfast.

I dig in, doing everything I can to remain civilized while I eat. The meal is so delicious. The view of the bridge is incredible. My lunch companion is the one I want more than any other in the world.

But there’s one lunch companion I don’t want, and hadn’t counted on.

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