Page 17 of Pucking Billionaire

“The staff are in the reading room,” Effie says and gestures toward a door, her smile disappearing.

I follow her in, and I meet three older ladies—who surprisingly look nothing like turtles—and I learn that they share the cooking, cleaning, gardening, and other responsibilities with Effie.

The tour continues in that vein, and when we enter the garage, I can’t help but whistle.

The cars my father left me are worth a fortune. There are representatives from Bugatti, Ferrari, Bentley, and—in case I ever wondered if my father had a mid-life crisis—a Porsche. Of course, no car collection would be complete without a green Volkswagen Beetle made to look like a giant turtle.

“This is Richard,” Effie says.

A car-turtle named Richard? No, she’s pointing at a short gentleman who seems to be fixing the car-turtle, or feeding it.

“Hello, Miss Papa-can-you-hear-me-lou,” Richard says to me with a wide grin. “You look just like the late Theo.”

Effie frowns. “I told you. It’s Papachristodoulopoulou.”

“My bad,” he says. “Papa-can-you-find-me-in-the-night-Christ-dual-transmission-Paula-lou.”

Effie looks at me apologetically. “I had everyone practice. I swear.”

I grin. “I’ve heard worse.” I turn to Richard. “Please call me Sophia.”

Adults don’t usually jump up and down in glee, but Richard does. “Nice to meet you, Sophia. Call me Dick.”

Hmm. “All right… Dick.”

“Or Dickie,” he says.

Must I?

“No, call him Richard,” Effie says with a frown that brings her eyebrow piercings perilously close together.

He sighs. “Yeah. Everyone calls me Richard in the household.”

Why is he upset about that fact? If my name were shortened to Pussy and had a diminutive form like Pus, I’d go by the full name, always. Then again, as Shakespeare famously put it, “A rose by any other name is just as sweet,” so even if my name were shortened to Pussy, I’d still smell like?—

“Let’s continue the tour,” Effie says, turning on her stiletto heel.

“Wait.” Richard thrusts a business card into my hand. “Whenever you need a ride, let me know.”

Wow. I have a personal driver? And to think I felt like I was splurging when I took that cab ride over here.

“I’ll be the best driver you’ve ever had,” Richard calls after me as we head toward the exit. “You’ll see!”

Yeah, sure, just like this mansion is the best I’ve ever owned.

“Thanks!” I turn to wave at Richard as we leave the garage. “Where are we going now?” I ask Effie once we’re heading down a large corridor.

“I’ve saved the best for last,” she says.

“Oh?”

She opens a set of French doors that lead into the giant greenhouse I saw earlier. “It’s about time you meet Donatello, April, and Dr. Kelpcon.”

Hold up, there are three turtles now? Also, why name the third one Dr. Kelpcon? That doesn’t sound like a TMNT character. Unless that was one of the minor villains? Actually, it sounds more like a convention for people who like to eat kelp.

My thoughts are interrupted by a weird noise coming from behind the tall shrubs nearby. It sounds like rhythmic moans and thumps. The moans are pained, like how I feel when I wake up hungover, especially if that happens to coincide with my period. Also, there’s a sound of something heavy and hard rubbing against something else heavy and equally hard, like two tanks cuddling.

Effie must hear all this too because she frowns. “Maybe I should show you another part of the estate. The turtles seem to be busy at the moment.”

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