Page 19 of The Billionaires

That’s that then. Eidith has excellent people skills, and if she can’t influence someone, no one can. She’s got the instincts of a shark, and I rely on her often in situations like this.

I decide to cut my losses and move on. There is another possibility I’ve been mulling over, anyway. “What about that other plot of land? The one in central Florida?”

She wrinkles her nose minutely. “I can set it up, but are you sure? They get hurricanes.”

“And we get fires. And earthquakes.”

“Great point, as always.” She takes out her phone. “I’ll get in touch with them.”

Okay. Maybe Florida will work even better than California. After all, everyone compares Novus Rome to a theme park—which it most definitely won’t be. But if it were, Orlando is just as famous for theme parks as Southern California, if not more so. The climate is also warm, and labor would be cheaper. And if we needed to cut down any trees, there’d likely be less pushback there.

For the rest of the day, I revisit my plans to see what changes I’d have to make if the location were Florida. Turns out, there are very few.

Tired, I go home, eat dinner, and decide to unwind. As always, that involves some facetime with my favorite creatures in the whole world: Caligula, Blackbeard, and Malfoy.

Crossing the pool area, I step into the giant air-conditioned greenhouse they call home.

The trio greets me with happy sounds and sideways hops as soon as I enter.

Feeling the tension melt away, I bend to pet each one. The petting quickly morphs into frantic play. The trio sleeps sixteen hours a day, but when they finally wake up, they have the kind of energy that humans can reach only by using deadly doses of amphetamines.

“Hi, sir,” says Vincent, the veterinarian I hired to watch after them while I’m at work. “No health problems to report today.”

I look up. “Did Caligula learn to roll over?”

He nods. “I reinforced it in the others too.”

I decide to take him at his word. “Caligula, roll over.”

He does as he is told. Then Blackbeard and Malfoy join in, and it turns into a rolling game.

“Great job,” I say to everyone, including Vincent.

“Is it okay if I go pick out some toys for enrichment?” Vincent asks.

I wave him away and focus on my charges as they start a chase—only they do it sideways, because they’re ferrets.

Not for the first time, I wish I could bring them with me to places, the way Juno does with her cat. Alas, that wouldn’t go well. At best, they’d steal every small object at my office, and at worst, they’d shred themselves in a paper shredder. Also, as far as the state of California’s government is concerned, my trio of ferrets is the “Ferrets of Rome Conservation Society.” My lawyers had to form this legal entity because ferrets are illegal to own as pets here. You need a special permit to keep them, which is only given to zoos, universities with veterinary research programs, and conservation societies.

Why did I get ferrets in the first place?

I didn’t.

My mother bought them on a whim in Las Vegas, only to decide not to keep them after they hid all the knickknacks in her apartment. Giving up instead of nurturing is as typical a behavior for my mother as stealing is for the ferrets. In fact, the term “ferret” is based on the Latin furittus, which translates to little thief. Romans kept them instead of cats to hunt mice.

My phone vibrates in my pocket.

I take it out carefully. Blackbeard has stolen it from me at least five times, Caligula four, and Malfoy has not only stolen it a dozen times but has also broken it twice.

“Hi, Gram.” I lift the phone to my ear as small paws snatch for it skillfully. Yes, there’s a ferret climbing up my body, and I don’t mind. “How are you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?” Gram sounds disappointed, a rarity in our interactions.

What is she talking about? I grab Blackbeard off my head and put him on the floor next to the other two. They look at me, seemingly as puzzled as I am. As intelligent as they are, they have no idea what Gram is talking about either.

“What do you mean, ‘girlfriend?’” I ask carefully.

“A girlfriend is that thing I’ve been telling you to get,” Gram says. “One that leads to fiancée, then to wife, then to great-grandkids.”

---