Page 117 of The Billionaires

I sigh. “He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

She gasps. “He put a gun to your head?”

“What? No!”

“Well, that’s what that phrase means in The Godfather.”

I blow out a breath. “I’m pretty sure you can also use it in a situation where someone offers you a shit-ton of money.”

“Hold on,” she squeals. “Are you saying you’re going to be working for the guy?”

I grip the steering wheel tighter. “As a dog trainer.”

There’s shocked silence on the other line.

“He’s got a super cute puppy,” I say defensively. “And the money is insane.”

“What’s your banker’s name again?” Aphrodite asks in that peculiar way I dislike.

Knowing I will regret it, I tell her anyway. She types in a few keys, then whistles. “Super cute… puppy, was it?”

I bet she’s looking at the picture on Bruce’s Wikipedia page—which doesn’t actually do the in-person Bruce justice.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say. “And you’re wrong.”

“I’m thinking that if you wanted to snag yourself a billionaire, it was smart to meet with him on the day you’re ovulating. Men are more attracted to us during that time window.”

“Excuse me?” I force myself to slow down. I’m approaching the estate’s security gate, and the last thing I want is a reprimand from Bruce for putting one of his guards in the hospital. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re ovulating,” Aphrodite says, relishing the word. “When we saw you this morning, Uranus sniffed it out.”

Grr. I shouldn’t have given Uranus a chance to use his very particular set of skills on me. “Next time you need a dog trainer, I won’t be there to help you,” I growl, though I wonder if this stupid ovulation could explain why I find icy Bruce hot—in a purely physical sense.

“Don’t be mad,” Aphrodite says as I drive through the gate and turn onto the road. “I figured you’d want to know in case you happen to hook up with him. That way, you can decide what you want: to protect yourself from an unwanted pregnancy or the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

“You know, trap a billionaire with a baby,” she says helpfully.

I grit my teeth. “There will be no sex with that monster. And certainly no babies.”

She sighs. “You need a boyfriend, and this guy is a billionaire who is easy on the eyes.”

“I don’t need a boyfriend, but if I did, the owner of the evilest bank in the world is the last man I would consider. Your aunt and uncle lost their house because of him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t personally handle their loan,” she says. “The argument can be made that they lost their house because they didn’t pay their mortgage.”

“I’m not going to argue this with you again,” I say. “The owner of a business is ultimately responsible for what his company does. Anyway, even if he didn’t own that cursed bank, I’d never date a client. And a jerk at that.”

She hums. “I find it very interesting how much you’ve thought about this already.”

I press on the gas a little too enthusiastically. “Have not.”

“Protest too much?”

“No.” I tap the brake. It’s not worth getting a speeding ticket over this.

“Well,” she says. “I’m sure you also realize that he won’t be your client forever, and it’s possible you don’t know him well enough to be sure of his jerkiness yet.”

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