Page 32 of The Billionaires

When we’re alone again, I finish my earlier thought. “We have enough to satisfy my grandmother.”

Juno grabs a dessert spoon. “Yeah. Learning her grandson’s interest in feet is the kind of TMI that’s going to make any grandmother regret asking.”

Not my grandmother, but I don’t tell Juno that.

She attacks the panna cotta and fucking moans, again—which doesn’t help my cock stand down in the slightest.

“Do you think people will believe us?” she asks when she’s done chewing.

I arch an eyebrow. “Believe the fartlek?”

She nods.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

She doesn’t meet my gaze. “You’re you. I’m me. Why would they?”

I dip my spoon into the green dessert. “Could you be more vague?”

She sighs. “For starters, I’m a moneyless nobody.”

“I have so much money most people are moneyless nobodies in comparison.” I taste the dessert. It’s not exactly moan-worthy but very good.

“So modest,” Juno says with another eyeroll. “What I mean is, you should be with someone of the upper class. The kind of people that?—”

“I hate,” I say. “Snobs, all of them. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”

She looks at her spoon, frowning. “Now that you mention it… Are these little spoons made of gold?”

I nod. “The chef insisted. Makes a big difference to the taste, especially for ice cream. Other options allegedly add a metallic aftertaste.”

She stares at me, then slowly shakes her head. “If only I could have your problems for one day.”

I scoff. “I’m not sure you’d cope.”

She gives me a withering look. “How about we get back to business?”

“And what’s that?”

“Something that will help sell the fartlek.”

Makes sense. “Like what?”

She jabs the dessert with her spoon. “I don’t know. This was your idea.”

I eat another spoonful, but nothing comes to mind. “What do people talk about when they date?”

She shrugs. “Previous relationships?”

“That’s easy,” I say. “I haven’t had any.”

Juno’s jaw hinges open. “None? Ever? Not even in high school or college?”

Women weren’t interested in me before I made my first few million, but I’m not about to tell her that. Instead, I snap, “Why would I need a relationship? If it’s for sex, I can get that whenever I want.”

All that requires these days is some jewelry, but those one- or two-night flings are hardly “relationships.”

At my sharp tone, she draws back. “Okay, whatever. But during our charade, you’re going to abstain from sex with others, right?”

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