Page 122 of The Billionaires

My cheeks burn so hot you’d think I’ve shaved them with a pizza cutter and used pepper spray as aftershave.

The only one who leaps into action is Bruce. He grabs a cookie from the tray, crouches, and sternly says, “Drop that.”

Chef Foxposse drops his spatula just as Colossus releases The Squirrel.

The toy rolls on the floor. If anyone hadn’t already gotten a good look at it, they have now.

Oh, and it’s vibrating. Because of course.

“Here.” Bruce breaks off a piece of the cookie and rewards the puppy with it.

Colossus attacks the treat with an excitement that other dogs reserve for bacon, peanut butter, and cats.

This is my chance.

I leap forward to grab the toy, but Bruce snatches it before I get there and stashes it in his pocket.

Halting in my tracks, I catch my breath. I figure I’ll need the power of speech to tell him off after he fires me.

Bruce looks at his watch. “Now that everyone is finally here, let me start the introductions.” He gestures at me. “This is Ms. Johnson, Colossus’s trainer.”

“Please,” I manage to squeeze out. “Call me Lilly.”

Ignoring me, Bruce says, “Ms. Johnson, meet Chef Foxposse, Mr. Cash, and Mrs. Campbell.”

Each of the aforementioned individuals bows when their name is called.

Bruce glances at his watch again. “I have a meeting. Get acquainted while I’m gone.”

He turns on his heel and strides out of the room. Colossus glances longingly at the table where the cookies are, but when they don’t magically fly into his mouth, he races after Bruce.

As soon as Bruce is out of earshot, everyone seems to exhale a relieved breath—which is as you’d expect when in the house of a dictator.

I clear my throat. “Nice to meet you all.” Please don’t ask about The Squirrel. Pretty please.

“Hi, Lilly,” Chef Foxposse says with a smile. “You can call me Bob.”

Huh. Chef Foxposse definitely sounds posher than Bob.

“You know me already,” Johnny says and twirls his mustache.

He and Bob look at Mrs. Campbell.

She sighs. “If Mr. Roxford isn’t around, you can call me Prudence.”

“Good point,” Bob says. “I’d also like to keep things formal when the boss is around.” He grins at Mrs. Campbell. “That’s just prudent.”

The housekeeper rolls her eyes, then turns to me. “He’s a much better cook than he is a comedian.”

“Speaking of,” Bob says. “For dinner, would you mind having ricotta gnocchi with white truffle?”

Is he kidding? “That sounds wonderful.” Like a dish in a fancy restaurant.

“How about grape panna cotta for dessert?”

“Even better.”

Damn it. Even though I ate on the way here, my mouth is watering.

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