Taken By The Hitman by Amber Adams
Chapter 4: Bianca
"Girl, do you see this?"
I turn my attention back to the TV screen and laugh, not even sure why we are watching this hot mess to begin with.
My best friend, Deja, sits next to me, her long legs tucked under her body and a glass of wine in her hand. Deja and I met in college, both business majors, and she was the first person I had divulged my true last name to.
She hadn’t cared that I was a mafia don’s daughter, and over the years, our friendship had grown into something very special. I think of her as the sister I never had. She knows all my secrets, even the ones I wish she would forget, but has also been a steady and strong shoulder to cry on for years, especially through the deaths of my parents.
Right now, Deja is pointing at the screen with her long red-tipped nail.
“I mean, who signs up for this shit?”
I can’t help but agree. We are watching a reality dating show that puts couples in extreme weather situations and forces them to go on a date. It is ridiculous, but something neither of us can get enough of.
“So,” I ask, filling up my nearly empty wine glass. “How’s Kyler?”
Deja snorts. “I don’t want to talk about it, and yes, I am referring to him as an it.”
Trouble in paradise.
“So, it’s over?” I ask, holding the glass up to my lips.
"Yep," Deja nods. "Kyler is 'bye'-ler."
The joke is so bad that I groan out loud, and Deja chuckles before standing up and shaking her empty glass.
"I think there's just about one more glass in that bottle—down to break open another one, or are you all good?"
I shake my head, and Deja makes her way toward the kitchen counter, returning a minute later with a full glass.
"And what about you," she asks, settling back into her plush sofa.
"You got any Kylers in your back pocket I should know about? It’s been a long, long while since we discussed any men in your life."
She’s right. It has been a long time since I have had anyone in my life, but my fledging company consumes most of my days and my nights, sans the ones I share with her.
“No,” I grimace. “There’s no one.”
Deja tsks. "Bianca, you work a lot, but you don't work twenty-four hours a day. Your company is a fine thing, but it isn’t going to keep your bed warm at night.”
I open my mouth to answer, but Deja continues.
"Your problem is that you're too cautious, and too picky."
My jaw drops. "Too picky?” I echo.
I’m not too picky. I just, I mean I have a type, just like every woman has. I like them tall, with a great sense of humor and an understanding that I am a busy professional woman, not at their beck and call.
The men I have grown up around in the presence of my father, wanted trophy wives, women that could not only warm their bed but also hang on to their arm and be the perfect accessory.
I’m far from that and have no interest in being anyone’s trophy wife.
“I’m not picky.”
My bestie looks at me and arches a brow. “Prove it.”
I grab my phone off the table.
"Too picky," I muttered, swiftly unlocking it and opening Tinder.
On a whim, I had downloaded the dating app just to see what all the fuss was about and found it a clear waste of time. Why I hadn’t deleted it, I don’t know, but it was about to come in handy to prove that Deja is wrong about me.
“Okay so what about this guy?” I ask, flipping my phone around so she can see.
The first picture showed a guy dressed casually in a t-shirt and black jeans, but the whole anime-figures background and comically oversized sword in his hands distracted from any good looks he might have.
Deja’s presses her lips together, clearly struggling to hold in a laugh.
“I mean, you haven’t even looked at his profile yet. He could be some amazing, er, god that’s horrible.”
We laugh until tears roll down our cheeks before Deja yanks my phone out of my hand.
“Tinder is beneath you, my girl.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, peering over her shoulder as she types on my phone.
“There’s this website,” Deja explains.
“My boss told me about it. It’s like the ultra-wealthy dating site for the city. It’s called ‘Opulent Introductions’—nice, right?”
“Deja, come on,” I plead, reaching for my phone.
I’m nowhere near wealthy. Sure, my father’s death left me a very nice inheritance, but I choose to let it remain in the trust fund rather than drawing on it, saving it for my future.
I can’t deny that it’s really nice to know that it’s there, but I want to stand on my own two feet and pay my own way in life. So, no, not wealthy.
“It’s perfect for you,” she says, flipping it around.
“See? Now that’s a hottie right there.”
I snatch my phone and stare at the man in the preview screen. He looks way out of my league, dressed in a tux and carrying a bouquet of flowers.
“This is so cheesy,” I answer, exiting out of the website.
“I’m not going to find a man on the internet.”
“Try it,” Deja said, crossing her legs. “I dare you.”
Sighing loudly, I open the browser again, seeing the five-hundred-dollar monthly fee.
“Oh my God, five hundred dollars a month,” I breathe.
“There better be a young Brad Pitt on there.”
Deja rolls her eyes. “You have the money. Use it on yourself for once, Bianca.”
I bite my lip before pulling out my credit card from my wallet.
“Fine,” I grumble.
“Let’s do it.”
If nothing else, it will give us something fun to do for a few hours and my firm intention is to cancel my membership as soon as I get home tonight.
Deja squeals. “You are so going to find your billionaire, Bianca. I just know it.”
Well at least it will be better than comic sword man.
