A Billionaire for Christmas

Going Wild’s

*Aria*

"See you later, and behave," I call out, feeling the vibration of a car honk echoing through the walls of our small house.

I usually cringe at the sound of a horn, preferring the subtlety of a quiet knock or a doorbell. But today is different. I’ve decided against introducing a guy to my kids on a first date, so a honk it is, just as I asked him to.

Initially, I had suggested meeting directly at the restaurant, but he was insistent. ‘A gentleman should always pick up his date,’ he’d written, charmingly persistent.

“We won’t wait up,” my son teases from the living room, his voice laced with mischief. I chuckle, shaking my head. it is our first date, I don’t foresee a late night.

Stepping outside, the evening air cool against my skin, I walk up to the car. As I open the passenger door, I’m greeted by a warm smile. "Hi," I say, feeling a flutter of excitement.

"Come on in," he invites, patting the seat beside him.

I slide in, clicking the seat belt into place. "It's great to finally meet you in person," I say, my nerves settling as I speak.

He nods, his eyes meeting mine. "You too."

"So, where are we going?" I ask, curious about the surprise he’d promised. Now seems like a good time to find out.

"Do you know Wild's?" he asks, glancing my way as we ease away from the curb.

I nod. It's a new high-end steakhouse just outside Austin. "I've heard of it, but I've never been."

"It's not cheap, and it’s not easy to get a table either," he says with a touch of pride. "But I know someone who works there, so I managed to snag us a table. And don’t worry, I’ve got it covered."

"Thank you," I mumble, feeling a bit awkward. His tone leaves me a little off-balance, unsure how to respond. I'm fine with splitting the bill, but Wild’s is a bit out of my budget, especially at this point in the month. Besides, since he planned this date, I kind of expected him to pay.

He glances at me again, his eyes lingering. "You look good."

"Thanks," I reply, hoping to keep things light. He hasn’t done anything wrong; it’s just that I'm not really used to dating.

As if reading my thoughts, he suddenly says, "I guess you’re wondering about the car." Honestly, I hadn’t given it much thought; it seems to run just fine. "It's my ex-wife’s fault... if I didn’t have to pay for her lazy ass, I’d have a much nicer car."

I offer him a small smile. "The car seems fine to me. I had not thought about it at all."

"Liar," he huffs with a forced chuckle, then flashes a smile. "Women are all about nice cars and good jobs. I have a good job, you know."

"I'm sure you do," I mutter, already feeling the weight of regret settling in. I can't bring myself to ask him to turn around and take me home. Honestly, I couldn't care less about what kind of car he drives or even if he owns one.

As we pull into the restaurant, a wave of relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived.

"I can't believe we got such a crappy table," he declares, loud enough for the young greeter and several nearby tables to hear. "I guess my money isn't good enough for this place."

"The table is fine," I whisper, trying to defuse the situation. Really, there's nothing wrong with it.

He launches into complaints about everything, even mocking my choice to order a soda instead of wine or beer. "I can afford it, you know," he insists.

"It's not about money," I explain softly. "I just rarely drink, and I'm not a fan of wine."

We start looking over the menu, but soon he has another complaint.

"Why do women always take so long," he grumbles, eyeing me. "Please don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian or something."

"No, I'm not," I sigh. "It's just... all the steaks are massive. I'd feel bad if I could only eat half."

He scans the menu. "The gold cut you can order in just 8oz, you should be able to eat that."

I glance at the price, astounded by the cost. It must be prime quality. "Yeah, it’s just... it’s the most expensive one and..."

"Hey, you're my date," he interrupts, signaling the waitress. "She'll have the small gold cut, and I will have the ‘mountain man’, both with all the extras, and we'll take a table platter for starters."

I choose to overlook his forceful decision-making for now, reminding myself that he’s paying. Yet, I’m increasingly certain there won’t be a second date.

As our food arrives, I steer the conversation towards his son. It seems he’s at least a devoted father. However, I'm disappointed when he doesn’t show any interest in my kids, or in asking much about me at all. He’s far more focused on talking about himself and his "b***h ex," or finding new things to complain about.

“Check please, and be quicker than you’ve been so far,” Steve snaps his fingers at the waitress.

She nods, hurrying away. I feel an urge to apologize to her; she’s been nothing but friendly and efficient. Yet, here he is, complaining about nothing. It’s glaringly clear to me now… being rude to service staff is a huge red flag.

“So, I assume my place? I managed to get the b***h ex to take the boy tonight," he says, grinning in a way that makes me uneasy.

"Excuse me?" I reply, blinking at him in disbelief.

*Ryder*

"Mr. Cassidy?" a waitress calls out, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness.

I turn to face her. "Yes, Shilene? How can I help you?"

"You mentioned that we could always come to you if there was anything, even if it seemed trivial," she says with a faint smile.

I had made it clear to all the staff that they could approach me or the manager, JR, with any concerns. "Absolutely, what's going on?"

"There's this guest... he's been quite rude throughout the evening, complaining about everything. I feel bad for his date," she says, giving a small shrug. "Maybe it's nothing?"

"It's never nothing," I reassure her. "Which table is he at? I'll find something to do nearby so I can listen in and step in if necessary."

She provides me with the table number, then smiles gratefully. "Thank you, I'll go get the check."

I nod to Shilene and make my way over to the area near the table in question. Spotting that the table next to it needs clearing, I stop the busboy, offering to handle it myself. It's the perfect excuse to stay close and observe.

"Yeah, for the... dessert, you know," the man says to his visibly tense date. She's quite beautiful, and it's already clear to me that she deserves far better than him.

She shakes her head. "Are you telling me you expect me to go home with you and... be intimate? On a first date?"

"I took you to a nice place and I’m paying. Of course, I expect something in return," he replies, looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry, but I would never... not on a first date," she says, clearly uncomfortable. It is clear that she would never with him no matter what and just wants to get out of here.

He laughs sharply. "Like anyone would want more than one date. You're over forty and a single mother… recreational use only, sweetie. I just wanted to pump and dump."

A growl rises in my chest. This jerk needs to learn how to treat a lady.

"Here you go, sir," Shilene says, placing the check in front of him with a professional smile. "Card or cash?"

"Ask her. I'm not paying for her expensive food when she's not putting out, f*****g cocktease," he snaps, and when Shilene doesn’t react immediately, he rudely snaps his fingers in her face. "Hey, hair for brains, split the f*****g check."

I quickly step over, my tone firm and controlled. "I think you need to leave right now, Sir."

"Who do you think you are, busboy?" he retorts with a huff. "I'm a paying guest. I'll have you fired... I'll have both of you fired."

"Allow me to introduce myself," I say, maintaining eye contact. "Ryder Cassidy... owner." I grasp the front of his shirt, pulling him from the chair. "And I don't tolerate anyone speaking to women like that… not my staff, nor my guests."

He lets out a choked squeak, eyes wide. "Ryder Cassidy?"

"That's right," I confirm, nodding to his date. "Excuse me, ma’am, while I take out the trash."

With that, I escort the sorry excuse for a man out of my restaurant, ensuring he understands that such behavior won't be tolerated here, and that he is no longer welcome.