Page 103 of The Billionaires

“Sorry. The NDA.” In truth, I didn’t talk to anyone about Lucius because it’s impossible to explain my situation without admitting to all the lies, and I can’t bear to get into that.

“Well,” she says. “Given the stunt he’s about to pull, I think you might want to talk to him.”

“Nope. Not happening.”

She sighs. “What happened, hon? Was there another woman?”

“No.”

She gasps. “Another man?”

“No! He didn’t cheat. I don’t think he’s even interested in… never mind.”

There’s a silence on her end for a while. Then she says, “Okay. I’m here to talk when you’re ready. For now, can you at least tell me how he got my number?”

“No idea. I did mention your name in front of him and his grandmother—because her name is also Pearl. He must have used his billionaire resources to triangulate you.”

It might not have even been all that hard. How many young women of our age are named Pearl? Whatever the number, I almost smile picturing Lucius cold-calling all said Pearls and asking them if they have a friend named Juno.

“Okay,” she says. “But you’ll need to at least talk to him once. Tell him to cancel his dumb idea.”

“Which is?”

She tells me.

My eyes go wide and my stomach drops. Then I clench my teeth and demand, “How do I get in touch with him?”

“Check your email,” she says. “He said the Zoom video conference is up and running, and that you should have an invite.”

“Okay. I’d better go.”

“Of course,” she says. “But you will tell me everything afterward.”

“At some point, maybe,” I say. “That is, unless you hear about what happened to him on the daily news. ‘Billionaire Dies from Idiotic Gesture.’”

“Romantic gesture,” she corrects.

Not dignifying that with a reply, I hang up, then grab my computer and locate the email.

Damn.

He’s emailed me another dozen times since I last deleted all his messages without reading.

I open the most recent email and click on the link to join the stupid video call.

A second later, there he is, on my screen.

Saguaro give me strength.

Seeing him, I forget everything, including how mad I am and why.

I’ve missed my stupid human cactus. Missed him so much it hurts.

“Hi,” he says from the screen. “Thanks for joining.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “It’s not like you gave me much choice.”

As if to confirm my words, a white Persian cat strolls in front of the camera. Then a Siamese cat. Then one of those bald ones that all the movie villains have jumps onto his shoulder, no doubt thinking herself a parrot to his pirate.

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