Page 49 of The Billionaires

“Oh?” is all I trust myself to reply with.

His steel-colored eyes turn hard. “She left me to travel the world when I was eight. Being a mother was just another phase for her. My grandmother raised me. But enough about me. Why do you like cacti so much?”

I get the feeling I’d better leave the issue of his mom alone. “Why wouldn’t I like cactuses?”

“Because you’d regret touching one?”

Some unkind words are on the tip of my tongue, but given what he’s just shared about his mother, I swallow them. “You’re wrong. Cactuses are awesome. They’re tough. They thrive where other plants wouldn’t even dare to grow. They have hidden depths to them. You may see a few inches of a cactus above ground, but its roots can be seven feet deep. Despite their spines, when the conditions are right, cactuses have the most beautiful blooms. And they?—”

The limo stops in front of tall, wrought-iron gates.

“Almost home,” Lucius says as the gates slide apart, giving me a glimpse of a sprawling mansion that looks like a modern art museum.

I whistle. “Did you steal the designs for the Getty Center?”

He tightens his hold on the suddenly-more-excited Blackbeard. “Both the Getty Center and the Getty Villa inspired my home.”

Makes sense. J. Paul Getty was a billionaire in the previous century, so why not use him as a role model?

The limo traverses the gorgeous courtyard until it stops next to a large domed building. “In there,” Lucius says as Elijah opens the door. “I think you’ll like the greenhouse.”

We exit, and as soon as we step through the door into said greenhouse, Blackbeard starts barking—and a chorus of barks echoes back.

In a blur of fur, two more ferrets arrive and start goofing around.

“Were you worried about Blackbeard?” Lucius asks them, gently setting the furry creature on the ground.

In reply, one ferret nibbles on Blackbeard’s butt, the other on Lucius’s shoe. Then the ferrets begin chasing each other merrily.

“That’s Caligula and Malfoy.” Lucius points to each ferret in turn. There’s a distinct note of fatherly pride in his voice.

“Great names. You’ve got a pirate, an insane tyrant, and a pure-blooded Slytherin.”

Also… should I mention that Draco Malfoy’s dad was named Lucius?

Nah. I’m sure he knows.

Lucius chuckles. “I’ve toyed with the idea of getting one more. If I do, I’ll call that one Fluffy.”

I grin. “And it will turn out to be the evilest one.”

Lucius’s eyes linger on my face. “Want to check out the rest of the greenhouse?”

I do, and he leads me though the giant space. Every corner has a litter box—presumably for the ferrets. Personally, I’m more intrigued by the veritable cornucopia of plant species, like kalanchoe, peperomia, snake and spider plants, moth orchid—the list goes on and on.

When we return to the entrance, Lucius says, “If you liked this, there’s something you have to see in the gardens outside.”

He has gardens too? I fight the urge to jump up and down. “Yes, please.”

He lets me go first, then closes the door carefully, making sure the ferrets stay behind.

I follow him through rows of yarrows, bearberries, and checkerblooms until we reach our destination.

It’s a cactus garden.

I gasp in awe.

Majestic golden barrel cactus. Magnificent prickly pear. Beautiful dollar cactus. And on and on.

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