Page 136 of The Billionaires

She snorts. “I bet if his wife ever asked him if a dress made her look fat, even Honest Abe would’ve said no regardless of the truth. That’s called a white lie and it’s what makes our society function.”

I sigh. “You lie enough for the both of us.”

“That’s not fair. I’m always honest with you.”

I can’t help but smile. “That there is the biggest lie of the day.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, here’s a truth: that Lilly seems like trouble.”

“On that, we agree,” I say. “But as you know, I don’t have a lot of time, so how about we talk about the dumb dog?”

“Don’t listen to him,” she croons at Colossus. “You’re a genius.”

“Yeah. A genius who ate half a roll of toilet paper the other day.”

“Daddy and I love you,” Angela continues in the same babytalk. “If he doesn’t tell you that, it’s because he’s a big grump who doesn’t even say it to me.”

“According to his papers, his ‘daddy’ was a best-in-show winner named Toby,” I snap.

“No,” Angela says. “That was just the sperm donor.”

How is it that even after years of arguing with her, I still haven’t learned that it’s a waste of time? I change the topic. “In any case, the dog is doing well. Lilly has big plans for his training.”

The gambit works, and the conversation pivots to all things Colossus. When she’s up to speed, I ask her how she’s liking the Hamptons—her current stop on her ever-busy itinerary.

“It’s surprisingly like your Palm Beach.” She wrinkles her nose. “Everyone makes their hedges taller than their neighbors’.”

“That reminds me,” I say. “I should get forty-foot hedges to surround my estate.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s secluded as is. You don’t need the privacy.”

I shrug. “If there’s a contest on hedge heights, I intend to win.”

“First the car collection, now this,” Angela says. “Someone might think you’re trying to compensate for something.”

“Seriously?”

“Sorry,” Angela says sheepishly. “That was below the belt.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait,” she says. “Have you spoken to your parents today?”

“No,” I say. “I haven’t spoken to our parents.”

“Then this will be a surprise,” she says triumphantly. “I’m coming for a visit.”

I frown. “With Champ?”

“Of course.”

Fuck. I know it’s a typical thing for a brother to disapprove of anyone his sister dates, but in this case, I’m justified because Champ is the epitome of a douche. “But what about his dog allergy?” I demand.

Angela met Champ a few days after she got Colossus, and it didn’t take long for them to decide to go globetrotting together—without a dog.

“We’ll stay at a hotel,” she says. “And when we visit, your Lilly can keep the dog out of Champ’s way. Also, he will take some antihistamines.”

I blow out an exasperated breath. I thought one bonus of having this dog was that I wouldn’t have to be in the same space as Champ ever again.

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