Page 96 of The Billionaires

Falling asleep.

I wake up, which is odd because I didn’t think I’d fall asleep with all that tossing, turning, and obsessing about Juno.

Maybe I should call her? See how badly I?—

Wait.

She forgot her phone at Gram’s house.

Leaping off the bed, I frantically get ready.

I promised Juno I’d get her the phone back today, so that’s what I intend to do.

When I walk into Gram’s house, Aleksy greets me with a warm smile.

Fuck. I was planning to pretend I didn’t see anything and don’t know anything, but I now realize that’s not who I am.

“Let’s speak outside for a second,” I tell him sternly.

Arching an eyebrow, he follows me out.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Something I forgot to tell you when I hired you.” I meet his gaze to illustrate just how deadly serious my next words will be. “If anyone ever hurts my grandmother in any way, I will put a multimillion-dollar bounty on that person’s head.”

Aleksy’s features tighten, and his accent is thicker than usual as he says, “If someone hurts her, you will not need to waste your money. I’ll take care of it personally.”

I study him intently, then nod. “Sounds like we have an understanding.” I extend my hand, and he shakes it solemnly.

“Where is she?” I ask over my shoulder as I head back in.

“Gardening,” he says approvingly.

I stop by the living room and pick up Juno’s clunker of a phone, then head over to the backyard, where I catch Gram weeding.

“What do I pay your gardener for?” I ask in exasperation.

She looks up and grins. “He deals with the landscaping in front of the house. This here is my domain.” With that, she climbs to her feet, dusts off her palms on her dress, and hurries over to give me a kiss on the cheek. “No hug,” she warns. “Or there’ll be dirt all over you.”

“I’m not afraid of a little dirt.” To prove it, I locate the nearest weed and give it a yank.

“Come,” she says. “Let’s talk in the dining room.”

“Talk in the dining room” is, of course, code for eating breakfast together. I don’t mind, and not just because I completely forgot about food this morning.

“So,” Gram says, wagging her eyebrows. “How did the rest of your evening go?”

The grilled brie-and-pear sandwich suddenly tastes like Styrofoam. “It was good. Great. Usual.”

She puts down her teacup. “What happened?”

Am I that transparent? “Nothing.”

“Did you have a fight with Juno?” she prods. “Those things happen.”

My jaw tenses. “No. I don’t know.”

Gram furrows her eyebrows. “What’s the problem?”

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