Billionaire on Board Read Online Free Page B

clenching again. Did he really mean to take me out on a date?
    "The hotel made reservations for Jonathan and myself but since I'm alone now…"
    "Oh, I see." I hoped not to sound too disappointed. "Which restaurant?"
    "The L'Oiseau D'Or. It's overlooking the port, I think. You could tell me something about it."
    "Oh, you want me for a tour guide? That would be 300,- euros."
    "Food included?"
    "Sure."
    "Indeed? I could get a high class hooker for the price."
    "She couldn't tell you about the port," I quipped. "Although, she may… they reside in the area."
    "But since I'm your boyfriend, you're of course coming for free."
    "Yes. Of course." 
    What was I thinking? He was accompanying me to Christian's abhorrent wedding, how could I even think of charging him?
     
    "Great." He got up. "I believe you'll want to change. I see it's almost six o'clock. What say we? Eight in the lobby? Do you have your car here? Should I have one sent?"
    I got up as well. "I take the tube."
    "How exotic."
    I walked to the door and he followed me. "Be careful."
    "This is a safe place. I take the tube every day. Maybe you should try it."
    He did not reply, he simply held the door for me.
     

Four
     
    I barged out of the hotel in a delirium.
    After five minutes of aimless walking and trying to get my act together, I stopped and gazed around. I was standing in front of the tube station. My feet had carried me there automatically. 
    " Scheisse! " 
    I hit my hand against my forehead several times. 
    Nothing happened. If you ignore the weird looks I got from the people coming out of the station. 
    I was still here, I was not in my bed. I was not dreaming this. I fished out my phone and hit repeat. It would be either Lilly or Tina, I did not care. I needed help. I got Lilly's mailbox. "Call me. CALL ME! The universe is playing bad tricks on me."
    I dialled Tina next. 
    She didn't pick up either, so I texted her. 
    'Just met the real Ryan C-F at Hanseatischer Hof. He's coming to the wedding. Going out to dinner with him tonight.'
    Her answer came about fifteen seconds later.
    'Ha ha, yes. He asked me to order a carriage and eight white horses. Can't talk, am at the hairdresser's.'
    I ran down the stairs towards the platform, hitting my touchscreen.
    'NO JOKE! I SWEAR! TOTALLY CRAZY!!!'
    'Yeah right.'
    Fortunately the train drove in after only a minute. 
    'NO. I SWEAR! I SWEAR! HEART ATTACK!!! PLEASE PLEASE BELIEVE ME!!'
    'Take a picture'
    'I'm already on the tube'
    'Gotta go, Brad Pitt has to rinse the dye.'
    I growled and scared the old lady who was sitting next to me.
    "Excuse me," I piped.
     
    At my stop I practically ran out into the street, sprinted two blocks further and opened the door to my building. I hurled myself into the flat and stormed to the wardrobe. "Nothing to wear, nothing to wear! Get a grip, come on, get a grip!"
    But who could seriously get a grip when one's imaginary boyfriend had just materialised like a genie from a bottle, looking larger than life?
    There was the possibility of me going insane and hallucinating but somehow everything else was completely normal. 
    There by the bed was the tea cup I had drunk from that morning. My laptop rested half-open on the sofa where I had left it last night before going to bed. A used sock was lying on the bathroom floor. I would not be hallucinating a sock, would I?
     
    Okay, if I could not get a grip I would have to let myself be carried away by the cosmic hurricane that had come upon me.
    What would I normally do when I went out on a date? 
    Shower, shave, blow-dry my hair, polish my nails, put on some nice underwear (I did not usually have any audience for it, it simply made me feel better to be prepared), put on a dress, put on make up, put on shoes, grab a bag, fill it with keys, purse and phone. It was not too hard, was it?
    It was. 
     
    By the time the cab driver rang the bell at 7.45, my flat looked like a battlefield. 
    I had cut my armpit, I had ruined a white towel