Page 141 of The Billionaires

“The damn dog whines if I don’t let him in there,” Bruce says defensively, answering one of my million questions.

To give myself a chance to process this, I take my plate to the sink, rinse it, and then stick it in the dishwasher.

“Don’t do that next time,” Bruce says. “Mrs. Campbell will clean up.”

I roll my eyes. “I was raised to clean up after myself.”

He scoffs. “Why use the dishwasher then?”

“How the hell am I going to walk him at night if he’s in your bedroom?” I blurt.

Bruce’s eyebrows snap together. “How about you set an alarm, walk over, and take the dog out?”

“From your bedroom,” I say, overenunciating the last word.

Leave it to a man to take this long to realize the problem with this scenario, but judging by the “oh” his lips form, I think he’s finally got it.

“There will be nothing inappropriate,” he says.

He doesn’t have to sound that certain—like I’m the most unfuckable woman he’s ever met.

“Do you sleep naked?” I demand—and promptly blush.

He sighs. “I don’t have to.”

Oh, the images. The salacious, mouthwatering images. “Yeah. No nakedness.” Even though I’m already regretting the demand.

“Anything else?” he asks. “What side should I sleep on?”

Not dignifying that with a reply, I eye the two big cups on the counter that are filled with a thick liquid—half of it white and the other red.

“That’s the panna cotta,” Bruce says when he notices where I’m looking. “If you like it, you can have mine.”

Is this him being nice?

I grab a spoon, make sure I capture both colors, then stick the gooey goodness into my mouth.

Wow. So good.

The dog gives me a pleading look.

Give that to me. It looks like a liquid cookie. I’ll do anything—even let you brush my teeth afterward.

I shake my head. There are grapes in the red part of this dish, and those are toxic to dogs.

Looking at Bruce instead of the puppy, I take another spoonful, and this time, I inadvertently suck the yumminess from the spoon with too much ardor, which results in a slurping sound, albeit a very faint one.

Bruce flinches like he’s been struck and leaps to his feet, fists clenched.

Colossus tucks his tail between his legs and whines pitifully.

“I’m so sorry,” I mutter and push the rest of the dessert as far away from me as I can. “That was an accident.” One I should strive to avoid while in his company, for the same reasons as belching, picking my nose, and farting.

Bruce closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and lets it out meditatively. “You weren’t testing me?”

“No.” I point at my burning cheeks. “Does it help that I’m embarrassed?”

He sits back down and takes another calming breath. “Fewer and fewer people consider it rude to slurp at the table. Next thing you know, we’ll turn into Japan.”

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