Billionaire’s Best Friend Sets Up Double Date, Never Expected Either Of Them To Fall This Hard
The Mastermind’s Scheme and the Reluctant Billionaire
The moment Oliver Finch found out his best friend had set them both up on a double date, he nearly spat out his bourbon. Meghan Reynolds, the mastermind behind this scheme, was grinning from ear to ear as she slid into the seat across from him at their usual bar.
Her auburn hair was swept into a messy bun and her eyes were glinting with mischief.
“You did what?” Oliver asked, setting down his glass with more force than intended.
“Come on Oliver, when was the last time you went on a date?”
Megan leaned forward, her elbows on the polished wooden table.
“You’re turning into a hermit and I refuse to let that happen to my best friend.”
Oliver ran a hand through his dark hair, wondering how he’d gotten himself into this predicament. At 32, he was one of the youngest billionaires in the shipping industry, having transformed his father’s modest freight company into an international logistics empire.
But success had come at the cost of his personal life.
“I don’t have time to date,” he said, the familiar excuse rolling off his tongue.
“The Shanghai deal is closing next week and I’ve got investors breathing down my neck.”
Megan rolled her eyes.
“There’s always going to be a deal or a meeting or a crisis. That’s why I took matters into my own hands.”
“And who exactly am I being set up with?” he asked, already dreading the answer.
“Her name is Cassandra; she’s a curator at the Modern Art Museum,” Megan took a sip of her martini.
“She’s smart, gorgeous, and definitely your type.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow.
“And what’s your type these days? Still falling for those tortured artist types who can’t pay their rent?”
Megan threw a cocktail napkin at him.
“For your information, my date is a pediatric surgeon. His name is Max. Patricia from yoga introduced us.”
“A doctor?” Oliver nodded approvingly.
“Well, at least one of us might have a decent evening.”
Megan reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“Promise me you’ll give this a real chance. No checking your phone every 5 minutes or making excuses to leave early.”
Oliver sighed, knowing resistance was futile. In the 15 years they’d been friends since their freshman year at Stanford, Megan had never steered him wrong. She’d been there through his parents’ messy divorce, the rocky early days of the business, and every triumph and disaster.
He trusted her with his life, which was why he was agreeing to this ridiculous setup.
“Fine,” he conceded.
“But if she starts talking about her ex or her spirit animal, I’m calling you for an emergency extraction.”
Megan laughed.
“Deal. Friday at 7, Ellison’s. Wear that navy suit I got you for Christmas.”
As Oliver watched his best friend leave the bar, he couldn’t help but wonder what he was getting himself into. He had no idea that the evening Megan had orchestrated would change both their lives forever.
Friday arrived all too quickly. Oliver found himself standing in front of his closet, staring at the navy suit Megan had mentioned. His penthouse apartment overlooked the glittering city skyline, a view that usually brought him a sense of accomplishment.
Tonight, it just reminded him of how isolated his life had become. His phone buzzed with a text from Megan: “On my way to the restaurant. Don’t you dare be late.” Oliver smiled despite himself.
He slipped on the suit jacket, checked his reflection one last time, and headed for the elevator. His driver, James, was waiting with the car.
“Ellison’s, sir?” James asked as Oliver slid into the back seat.
“Yes, and let’s take the scenic route. I’m in no hurry.”
James chuckled knowingly.
“Blind date, sir?”
“Something like that.”
Oliver gazed out the window as the city passed by.
“Megan’s idea?”
“Ah, Miss Reynolds always has your best interests at heart,” James said, navigating through the evening traffic.
Oliver couldn’t argue with that. Megan had been his rock, his conscience, and his most trusted confidant. They’d met during orientation week at Stanford, both of them lost and looking for the administration building.
She was studying journalism; he was there for business. They’d stayed up all night talking about their dreams. Hers was to become an investigative reporter, while his was to expand his father’s business internationally.
Now, 15 years later, Megan was a respected foreign correspondent who had just returned from a 2-year assignment in Southeast Asia. Oliver was the CEO of Finch Global Logistics, valued at over $3 billion. Success had come to them both, but at what cost?
The car pulled up to Ellison’s, a high-end restaurant known for its intimate atmosphere and exceptional wine list.
“Good luck, sir,” James said as he opened the door.
Oliver straightened his tie.
“Thanks, James. I have a feeling I’ll need it.”
The restaurant was dimly lit with candles flickering on each table and soft jazz playing in the background. Oliver spotted Megan immediately, her auburn hair catching the light as she laughed at something her date had said.
Beside them sat a woman he presumed was Cassandra, her back to the entrance. Oliver took a deep breath and approached the table. Megan saw him first, her face lighting up.
“Oliver! You made it!”
