Page 17 of The Billionaires

Elijah gets behind the wheel. “Madam, what’s the address?”

Madam? Does he think I own a brothel?

I tell him where to go and think of questions to ask about Lucius, but before I can fire away, the partition between us goes up and the car departs.

Fine.

Whatever.

Mentally preparing to get my eyes clawed out, I open the bag.

Of course. Atonic is catatonic once again. It’s like she knows the allergic asshole is outside her claws’ grasp.

I check on my messages and find one from Pearl informing me that she wants to reunite with her fur baby tomorrow, on her way home from the airport.

Yeah, sure, I text back. Remind me to tell you about the murder she almost committed.

Pearl replies right away:

I’m going to lose reception in a second, or else I’d make you tell me NOW.

I grin. Pearl lives for three things: this cat, making cheese, and gossip.

The moment the limo stops, Elijah opens the door for me.

“How did you get here from your seat so fast?” I ask.

His eyebrows, nearly as thick as Lucius’s, lift. “Fast?”

“Are you secretly the Flash?”

“If we’re talking DC Universe, don’t you think I’m more of an Alfred?” he asks, deadpan.

I conceal a smile. “If your secret isn’t speed, is it possible there are two of you—identical twins working to create this effect?”

“I’m just good at my job,” maybe-Elijah says. “And you have a fanciful imagination.”

I climb out of the car. “Well, sure. Keep your secrets, and thanks for the ride. Oh, and please tell Lucius it was a pleasure meeting him… not.”

This time, Elijah’s smile actually touches his lips. “Mr. Warren isn’t as bad as the first impression makes one think.”

“This one agrees to disagree.” I grab my bag and head in the direction of my building. “Thanks again, and toodles.”

“So,” I croon to El Duderino when I’ve settled in my place. “I must tell you about my crazy day.” I proceed to share everything because who needs a therapist when there’s a cactus around?

Dude, that’s totally radical. This Lucius dude sounds like a dude you should stay away from.

El Duderino is my beavertail cactus who, in my opinion, doesn’t look like a beaver (either the animal or the sex organ) or its tail. His kind are native to the Mojave, Anza-Borrego, and Colorado deserts—and don’t ask me why he sounds like a water-loving surfer in my mind.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I reply to him out loud. “I will definitely stay away from Lucius.”

Of course you’d agree, dude. It’s like your voice is my voice… dude.

I’ll admit, I might be a little too into cactuses. But hey, at least if someone tries to rob my place, they’ll end up looking like a pincushion.

I check El Duderino’s soil. Yep. It’s been three weeks since I watered him last, and today is the big day.

I pour lukewarm water into a saucer and place it underneath El Duderino’s pot.

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