““There’s an hour wait,” he said. He looked perturbed. “Let’s go somewhere else.” I got it. Billionaires weren’t used to waiting. I sure as hell didn’t want to wait an hour. My stomach cramped as it heard the news. But we couldn’t leave. Falafels were only part of the point of our visit. An important point. Don’t get me wrong. My mouth watered and wondered when food would arrive. “Please can we wait,” I said. “I don’t want to miss out on the hottest falafel spot on the planet.” “I’ll take you a...nywhere,” he said. “I know a michelin-starred French bistro—“ He didn’t sound agreeable. I had to think of something. I couldn’t let him drag us away. “I’m not waiting an hour to eat,” he said. It was a statement of fact. “Come on.” He took my hand and started for the door. While I loved holding his hand. Something we hadn’t done yet this evening. It was leading in the wrong direction. My mind raced, screamed to stop him, make him turn around.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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