Read Online The Bad Boy Billionaire: What a Girl Wants by Maya Rodale - Free Book Online Page A

subways are fucked and probably will be for some time. Cabs are hard to come by. And cash only. Everything is cash only.”
    We all glanced at the pile of coins and crumpled dollar bills on the bar in front of us. The last of our money. I took a sip of warm white wine and wondered if Frank and random cab drivers wanted stock in Project-TK. Probably not.
    “We’re stranded,” I said glumly. “We’ll be stuck without power for days, possibly weeks. Maybe months.”
    That meant no hot water. No flushing toilets. No properly cooked meals. No phones, no computers, no contact with the rest of the world. It would be like living in the Regency era, but without fireplaces or servants. Ugh.
    “We can walk uptown,” Duke said. “It’s only forty blocks.”
    I glanced down at my shoes. Yes, I wore ballet flats. But their soles were paper thin and would probably be worn through by the time we hit 39th Street.
    “These are probably not walking 40 blocks uptown.”
    “Girls and their ridiculous footwear.”
    “Hey, when I put these on I thought I was meeting an old friend for a quick drink at a bar near my apartment.”
    “They’re cute,” Duke said, grinning. “You too.”
    “That’s more like it,” I murmured, sipping my chardonnay.
    “Any word on when the power will be back on down here?” I asked Frank. How much longer until I can check on the first quarter of my book? How long until I can have a hot shower and a cooked meal? How much longer until life gets back to normal?
    “There was an explosion at one of the power stations. Everything is really damaged. Definitely days. Maybe longer. We’re assured they’re working on it around the clock.”
    “God bless those guys,” the guy to my left said. He was bald with thick black-rimmed glasses.
    “Seriously. Them, and all the cops and firefighters,” a guy with a thick beard and flannel shirt chimed in. “They had a rough night and have more rough days ahead cleaning up after Geoffrey.”
    “Any disasters?” Duke asked.
    “The front of a building collapsed on Eighth Avenue,” the bald guy said. He pulled out his iPhone and showed me a picture he’d saved from Twitter before the power went out.
    “Oh my God!” I gasped. “That’s right next to my building!”
    “Good thing you were with me,” Duke said, leaning over and wrapping his arm around me as we looked at the picture of a building missing its front wall, leaving all the furniture within exposed as if in a doll house.
    “Indeed,” I murmured, sipping my drink. I was so glad I didn’t have to weather the storm on my own. By storm I meant Geoffrey and Sam.
    “How do you hear all this?” I asked.
    “There are a few patches of cell reception along the river,” the bald guy said, and Frank agreed, adding, “that is, if you have any battery left.”
    “Good to know,” Duke said. “God, I miss my iPhone. And the Internet.”
    I imagined he missed them the way a smoker missed cigarettes. Or a junkie missed heroin. Or a teenage girl missed texting. I knew we would be walking over to the East River after these drinks to see if we could get service and check in with the rest of our friends. I had to let my mom know I was okay—she was probably freaking out. And I hoped Roxanna was safe as well.
    Duke and the guys kept chatting but I tuned out their conversation and soaked up the atmosphere. This was, perhaps, what a tavern in the Regency era would have been like. This place had rough-hewn wood floors, tables, benches and a bar. But it was the light that made it seem like time gone by. No flickering fluorescents or bright bulbs. Just a mixture of daylight and candlelight. Everything seemed softer. I’d even say I felt like I was in an oil painting. I kept my eyes open and took in all in, taking advantage of this opportunity to experience life in a tavern without electricity, and planning to write about it later.
    And then someone said something that caught my attention.
    “I’m wondering when