Page 46 of The Billionaires

I freeze, looking to the side.

Is that what I think it is?

Yep. A furry creature is scurrying across the dance floor, holding a piece of deviled egg.

I must be imagining it.

I squint.

Nope.

That’s Blackbeard, one of my ferrets.

CHAPTER 19

JUNO

Holy saguaro.

Lucius was about to kiss me.

And I think I might have let him.

Fortunately, he stopped, and the idea must really repulse him now—at least that’s how I interpret his letting me go and staring under everyone’s feet so intently.

“I’ll be back,” he says and starts making his way toward the stage.

Huh?

He grabs a microphone and shouts, “Everyone, freeze! Do not move an inch. My ferret has escaped onto the dance floor, and if anyone steps on him, I will personally step on you with all of my lawyers.”

By saguaro’s spines. Everyone indeed freezes, the music stops, and many things happen at once.

“Did he say feral rat?” my ex’s new wife shouts and jumps onto the nearest chair.

I’m pretty sure he said “ferret,” given that he owns ferrets and all. Regardless, at the word “rat,” some woman shrieks like a banshee on crack, and a middle-aged man hops onto a chair, which promptly topples over. More shrieks ensue, and dozens of women flip up their skirts, like floosies in a western saloon. Others climb onto their chairs, and a few particularly adroit socialites end up on tables. Everyone else remains frozen—either in shock or due to Lucius’s threat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a furry shadow as it dives under a nearby empty table.

“There!” I shout for Lucius, then run for the—hopefully—ferret.

When I get to the table, there’s no creature in sight, but I do see a piece of egg with ferret-sized bite marks in it.

So this is what happened to my caviar and egg appetizer. The ferret must’ve nabbed it.

Lucius hurries over. “Blackbeard!”

“He’s not here,” I yell back. He named his ferret Blackbeard? That’s like asking the poor creature to cause trouble. Though maybe he named the ferret after he got to know him.

I frantically look around. Everyone who’s not on a chair or a table is still frozen in place, looking under their feet in horror.

Then I see him. “Blackbeard is on the stage!”

Lucius must hear me because he sprints over there, just as I do the same.

Meanwhile, Blackbeard grabs the cable attached to the microphone with his teeth and gives it a tug.

The mic begins to tip over.

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