Page 126 of The Billionaires

Resisting the urge to snatch the box from her hands, I force calmness into my voice as I say, “Do not overfeed him.”

She hides the box behind her back. “Bob already explained your thoughts on this—which are sound. I’ll keep track of the treats and coordinate with him to adjust the little one’s calories.”

I’m annoyed that “Bob” talked to her about something that was on my agenda.

Wait, am I jealous?

No. This is a lot like when Bob looks glum whenever I tell him I’ve cooked something. No one likes their job encroached on.

“So.” I sit on the nearest barstool. “You started to talk about your plans for the training. What are they?”

She climbs onto a stool near me. Once she’s seated, her legs dangle well above the floor. “I imagine potty training is your top priority?” She gestures at the pads that surround us.

“Correct.” Poor Mrs. Campbell could use a break from having to change those things every couple of hours. “How does that work?”

She glances at her small student. “Puppies go after meals, playtime, and naps. They also have certain tells before they need to go. I’m going to learn Colossus’s tells so that I can take him outside as soon it’s needed. I’ll use treats after he does his business, which should help him learn that going outside is best.”

Sounds annoyingly reasonable. “Will this stop him from having accidents inside?”

“It will help,” she says. “But we also want him to feel like this whole mansion is his den because dogs have an instinct not to go to the bathroom in their den.”

Huh. “How do we do that?”

She looks around. “We can restrict his access to all but a tiny part of the house, then slowly open it up. Maybe use baby gates, or a crate, or?—”

“No.” I rejected another trainer because he insisted on this “crate training” business, which sounds too much like dog jail for my tastes. “Colossus will have access to the whole house from the start. End of story.”

I like to pace the mansion, and the stupid dog whines if he can’t reach me.

She sighs. “Will you micromanage the whole training process?”

I shrug. “Only if you have stupid training ideas.”

Her signature eyebrows meet in the middle of her forehead. “I guess we could create a bunch of safe spaces for him throughout the house. Put a doggie bed in every room, with some toys. He might get the den idea that way.”

“Good,” I say. “Come up with more solutions like that.”

“Sure,” she grits out, looking like she might grab the nearby steak knife and reenact a scene from Scream… on my privates.

Speaking of danger. “Follow me,” I say to Lilly and risk turning my back to her despite the knife.

She and Colossus follow me all the way to the garage.

“This is where I keep everything related to walking the dog,” I explain as Lilly scans my car collection with boggled eyes.

“Oh?” She checks out the storage unit I’ve dedicated for the task. “What’s that?” She points at the special talon-proof vest I had made for Colossus—one with Mohawk-like spikes.

“That’s for his safety. Eagles, hawks, and owls have been spotted on the estate.”

“Ah.” She examines the vest, looking surprisingly approving.

I guess now is as good a time as any to show her the other gizmo I had created earlier today. It’s for her: a shiny child’s bike helmet with a Mohawk that matches the one on the dog’s vest.

“This should further deter the birds.” I hand her the helmet.

She gapes at it. “Is it for me?”

“Yes. It should keep both of you safer.” And if a certain someone looks ridiculous wearing it, that’s just a bonus.

---