Page 50 of The Billionaires

“Look at you, handsome creatures,” I croon as I approach each one, forgetting for a second where I am.

Lucius falls into step next to me. “So you don’t just play Metallica to cacti? You converse with them as well?”

“Cactuses,” I say. “And yes, I do. Do you have a problem with that?”

He regards me seriously. “I think it’s cute.”

My stomach feels fluttery, like a cactus flower being pollinated by a hummingbird.

I dampen my dry lips. “Is this another inspiration from the Getty Center?”

He cocks his head. “How so?”

I blink at him. “You’ve never seen the cactus garden there? That’s the most beautiful spot in all of LA.” I turn to his cactuses. “Or the second most.”

He examines his cactuses as if for the first time. “I think I’ll hire the garden designer I used for my home to help with Novus Rome.”

I reluctantly drag my gaze away from the majestic beings that are his cactuses. “Novus Rome?”

His eyes widen. “I haven’t told you about Novus Rome?”

“Nope.”

“Come, let me give you a tour, and I’ll explain.”

So he does, and as far as I can understand, Novus Rome will be a futuristic smart city built and run exactly to Lucius’s meticulous specifications. He doesn’t explain why he wants this, but I figure it’s because it’s the ultimate power trip. I’ve always suspected that once you’re rich enough, you start wanting to play God.

During the explanation, I also get to see Lucius’s so-called home—a ridiculous display of wealth made out of concrete and glass. Each room is labeled with a Latin inscription, which Lucius translates as the Sun Room, the Atrium, and so on. Unsurprisingly, there are many Gallery Rooms dedicated to all things Rome. They remind me of wings in a natural history museum. Slightly more interesting is the Metallica Room, where Lucius displays paraphernalia that belonged to the band, most of it signed. Whenever I ask, it turns out the item in question was bought at some auction for a truly obscene price.

He stops talking when we reach a tall set of doors, with a word etched into one that my brain perceives as “Cumbilubecube.” Lucius reads it as Cubiculum, which doesn’t make that much more sense, but whatever.

“Where will you build Novus Rome?” I ask. “On a deserted island?”

He stops and faces me. “On a peninsula. You might have heard of the place. It’s called Florida.”

I snort. “Oranges and sunshine?”

“That’s the one. I’m buying an epic plot of land not far from Gainesville.”

“Jinx! I just applied to the University of Florida, which is in Gainesville.”

He smiles faintly. “Double jinx then—I’m flying over there tomorrow.”

“You are?” I find it hard to keep the jealousy out of my voice.

His eyes glimmer. “Why don’t you join me?”

I blink at him. “Join you on a work trip?”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have a plane ticket, for starters.”

He waves that away. “We’d be flying on my jet.”

Of course he has a private jet. It comes standard with this mansion.

“I don’t want to intrude.” It’s hard to sound like I mean it because I absolutely, totally would love to fly on a private jet to check out the UF campus.

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