Page 42 of The Billionaires

I sip the champagne. “I was trying to find out what music my cactus liked. Most of it was as expected—The Beach Boys and other surf rock. The surprising one was Metallica. After a while, I grew to like it too—Metallica, that is, not the surfer stuff.”

He’s staring at me like I’ve morphed into a prickly plant myself. “Your cactus?”

“Yeah. I introduced him to you during the ‘tour.’”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize how important he was to you. I would’ve paid closer attention.”

“Next time, you should. No one who knows me would believe our fartlek if you were anti-cactus.”

He nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Is he mocking me? Maybe not. “How did you get into Metallica?” I ask.

“My mother is a huge fan, so I heard it a lot growing up.” He sets down his glass, a bit too roughly. “She even claims she dated a member of the band, though translated from Mom speak, that probably means a one-night stand.”

Wow. There’s a lot to unpack there, but before I get the chance, the limo stops and Elijah does his magic-trick-style door-opening routine.

“Here we are,” Elijah says when we come out.

“Here” happens to be the parking lot of California Science Center, a place I’ve been only once and so long ago that I barely remember anything except how cool the building looks on the outside.

To my absolute shock, Lucius grabs me by my hand.

Oh. My. Saguaro.

As he leads me inside, my palm feels like it’s going to orgasm… and then maybe explode. I don’t understand this reaction. At all.

Sure, his hand is big and warm and all, but I don’t even like the guy.

Our destination is a hangar where the space shuttle Endeavour hangs. Someone set up big round tables under the shuttle, with flowers and fancy chairs and other ritzy stuff.

Lucius leads me to a table under the shuttle’s left wing and pulls out one of the two remaining empty chairs.

Slightly overwhelmed, I sit and thank him.

A blond, extremely polished, and classically beautiful woman is sitting a couple of chairs over. She examines me with cold curiosity. The glittery, fancy surroundings seem to be her natural habitat, whereas I must stand out like a desert cactus in a swamp.

When Lucius sits down, she switches her attention to him—and I don’t like the admiring expression on her face at all.

“Hi,” I say to her with mock cheerfulness. “Looks like we’re the only girls at the table.”

The portly gentleman to my left chuckles.

The woman tears her gaze away from my date. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Damn. I didn’t realize it’s possible to sound “old money,” but she manages it perfectly.

Lucius gestures at her. “Juno, this is Eidith. She works for me.”

Hmm. “For” is better than “under,” I suppose.

“That’s Eidith with an extra ‘i,’” Eidith says.

Why add extra letters into words or names?

“Eidith, this is Juno, my girlfriend,” Lucius continues.

Wow. As soon as she hears the g-word, Eidith’s face goes through a kaleidoscope of expressions. Shock, disappointment, and incredulity are the start, followed by an essay-length opinion that boils down to:

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