Richard

You were a typical student, studying on a grant, occasionally working part-time to avoid being dependent on your parents. You also had a best friend, Emily, the daughter of a millionaire.

It's not that she was spoiled. Rather, she simply hated one thing that invariably accompanied her life: the endless blind dates her father arranged in the hopes of finding a "worthy" husband for his daughter.

That's why you have a rather strange, but profitable deal.

Every time, you went on a date instead of Emily. You'd introduce yourself using her name, pretend to be a capricious, arrogant girl with an impossible personality, and do everything you could to make each new candidate run away without looking back.

Emily paid more than generously for this kind of work. And for you, a poor student, extra money was never a bad thing.

And so, as usual, closer to the evening, the phone rang again.

Emily's name appeared on the screen.

As soon as the call was accepted, complaints were heard on the other end about her father, who had again arranged a date for her and categorically refused to take no for an answer.

Less than ten minutes later, she had already transferred money to you, ordered a new dress, shoes, accessories, and sent you the address of an expensive restaurant.

She, of course, didn't know the man's name.

It was a blind date after all.

...

Evening came.

You arrived at the specified address and entered the restaurant.

It was unexpectedly quiet inside.

There were almost no visitors.

More precisely, there was none at all.

Only one man sat quietly at a table by the window, leisurely dining in complete solitude.

“This must be him,” you thought.

Without thinking twice, you confidently walked up to his table and sat down opposite him.

The man slowly looked up at you, clearly not understanding what was happening.

Without giving him a chance to say anything, you immediately began to play your usual role.

"Hello. I'm Emily. I assume you're on a blind date? Then I'll warn you right away: I'm looking exclusively at a man's net worth. To meet my requirements, you'd have to be a billionaire, at the very least," you said, narrowing your eyes slightly, pretending to be a spoiled and arrogant heiress. Then, as if remembering something important, you added calmly, "And one more thing... I'm perfectly capable of cheating. I have a lot of guy friends, and I'm not going to stop hanging out with them. I hope that doesn't bother you?"

The man was silent for a few seconds.

He sincerely did not understand what had just happened.

Actually, he just came to have a quiet dinner.

One.

In silence.

On my only day off.

He looked at you carefully for a few seconds, as if trying to figure out whether this was a joke or not.

Finally he said calmly:

"I don't remember planning a date today. But if you're so keen to meet me... well, why not?"

He paused briefly, then handed you a business card.

— Richard Foster.

You mechanically took the card and quickly ran your gaze over the expensive, laconic design.

After which she raised her eyes to the man again.

"So... you're not at all bothered by the fact that I have a lot of friends of the opposite sex? And you're really sure you can support me?"

Richard calmly took a sip of wine and, without even looking in your direction, answered indifferently:

• More than sure.

You were at a loss for a moment.

You certainly didn't expect such an answer.

Usually, after the first two sentences, men either became irritated or hastily ended the meeting.

But this one...

He looked as if he didn't care at all about what was happening.

You frantically started to think of new ways to ruin the impression and make sure he never wanted to see you again.

You couldn't have failed your job.

There was just one small problem...

You got the restaurants mixed up.

The real man, with whom Emily actually had a date, was at that very moment sitting in another establishment, having been waiting for the girl for a good half hour.

And with each passing minute he became more and more irritated.

Poor him.

You were an ordinary student, studying on a grant and occasionally working part-time. You were also friends with Emily, the millionaire's daughter.

Her father was constantly setting her up on blind dates, so you struck a sweet deal: you'd go on dates in Emily's stead. You'd pretend to be Emily, pretend to be a spoiled brat with a terrible temper, and do everything you could to make each new candidate lose interest. Emily paid handsomely for it.

She called again, complained about your father, transferred money, bought you a new dress, and sent you the restaurant's address. She didn't know the man's name.

The restaurant was empty. Only one man was quietly dining by the window. Thinking it was him, you sat down across from him.

"Hello, I'm Emily. Let me warn you right away: I'm only interested in billionaires. Also, I might cheat, and I have a lot of guy friends. I hope that doesn't bother you?"

The man looked at you in surprise.

Actually, he just came to have a quiet dinner on his only day off.

After a short silence, he handed over a business card:

"I don't remember agreeing to a date. But since you're here... Richard Foster."

• And you really aren’t embarrassed by my words?

• More than sure.

You were confused. Usually, after something like that, men would run away.

But there was one problem.

You got the restaurants mixed up.

Emily's real fiancé had been waiting for her for half an hour at another establishment, growing irritated by the minute. Poor him.