Page 130 of The Billionaires

Removing our punky gear, I take him back into the house. He immediately zooms away, and I have to run to catch up.

“Dude!” I shout. “Where was this energy on the walk?”

He doesn’t stop.

I chase him all the way to the library, where he runs up to Bruce, who is sitting in a comfy recliner and reading a book.

Damn it. How is it that the book makes him look even sexier? This is particularly odd since I’m more of a gamer than a reader.

Spotting the dog, my icy employer full-on smiles again—and it’s as magnificent as before.

I clear my throat.

The smile vanishes so fast I start to doubt it was there in the first place, and he puts the book away before I can glimpse the title.

“I only get to read for a few precious minutes per day,” he growls. “Is it too much to ask not to be disturbed?”

“Colossus ran here after our walk,” I say defensively. “Did you want me to just let him roam the house unsupervised?”

“How was the walk?” he demands, ignoring my question.

“Informative,” I say. “Among other things, I’ll have to teach Colossus how to walk like a proper dog.”

Bruce rubs his temple. “I thought he just didn’t like walking with me.”

“You’ve walked him?” I ask.

Bruce rises to his full massive height and folds his arms across his powerful chest. “Why is that so surprising?”

“Because you’ve got people for everything. Why not this?”

“I’ve walked him on a regular basis.” With the angry way he grits out the words, it’s a marvel Colossus doesn’t whine again. “Like I said, I thought it was something about the way I was holding the leash.”

I purse my lips. “How were you holding the leash?”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “How am I supposed to show you that?”

Hmm. “I think you could benefit from a lesson I give all my clients.”

They all find the lesson somewhat odd, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He narrows his eyes. “A lesson in dog walking?”

“Exactly. A walk is a collaboration between the dog and the human. If both know what to do, it works best.”

He checks his watch. “Can you cram this lesson into twenty minutes?”

I nod. “We’ll need the leash and some space—ideally carpeted.”

“Follow me,” he commands and returns to the garage for the leash. Afterward, he takes me to one of the few closed doors in the house.

“You’re not coming in,” he says sternly to Colossus before opening the door.

The puppy cocks his head and shows no sign he understands.

“The command is ‘stay,’” I say. “And he doesn’t know it yet.”

With a sigh, Bruce crouches and with a straight face says to Colossus, “The rug in this room is a seventeenth-century antique and costs millions.”

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