Page 146 of The Billionaires

I also realize that I didn’t bring anything like a hamper for my laundry, so I’ll have to ask Prudence for one. For now, my dirty clothes can go into a pile on the floor.

Yawning, I test out my bathroom and learn that the shower can give amazing massages and the floor tiles are luxuriously warm when you step on them with bare feet.

The top point-zero-zero-one percent live well, I have to say. I’d better not get too used to it.

After the shower, I get into bed, where I discover that my sheets are made of silk—or something else heavenly.

As I close my eyes, my mind whirls—especially around the fact that I started this morning on a mission to yell at the personification of evil and ended the day in his bed.

Or at least a bed he owns.

Unbidden, my parents’ situation comes to the forefront of my mind. Just before I was born, they bought their first house. It was almost paid off, but then my dad needed surgery and my parents refinanced to pay the medical bills. Dad’s health didn’t allow him to return to work, and Mom lost her job because she had to care for him. I tried to help them as much as I could, but my job barely covered my own bills. No one at Bruce’s bank gave a shit about our story, though, and my parents lost the house.

A squeezing pain invades my chest again, thinking of all those memories that we’ll never get to relive—not even if I can help my parents buy another house with the money I’m going to earn here.

Because of Bruce, my childhood home is gone for good.

Grr.

There’s no way I’ll fall asleep with this shit on my mind.

Opening my eyes, I grab The Witcher and begin reading.

Huh. It’s surprisingly good, even for someone who hasn’t picked up a book in a while. Maybe it’s because it’s a collection of short stories and thus doesn’t require the long attention span necessary for a novel.

Before I know it, I’m done with the first story. Blinking, I check the clock—and smack myself on the head. I have to wake up to walk the dog in the middle of the night, so if I want to get decent rest prior to that, I should be asleep right now.

Setting an alarm, I close my eyes again, but sleep eludes me—this time, because I’m dreading walking into Bruce’s room in a few hours.

All right.

By the time I finish the second story, I have to grudgingly admit that the book is better than the game, at least insofar as you can compare such different things. The book version of Geralt is cooler, more tormented, more morally gray, and sexier—and this last bit is coming from someone who might’ve masturbated to the scene in the video game where he takes a bath.

Of course, it goes without saying that I would never, ever admit any of this to Bruce.

Damn it. I shouldn’t think about Bruce—not if I want to get any sleeping done.

I tentatively close my eyes, and the moment when we almost kissed smashes into my mind.

Fine.

More reading.

And more, until I realize that it’s time to walk the dog already.

Getting up, I put on some clothes and traverse the path to Bruce’s bedroom.

Taking in a calming breath, I open the giant doors.

Wow. The darkness is absolute, as if it were the inside of a black hole. Usually, a room has some gizmo with an LED light shining, or moonlight seeping through the windows, or something.

Oh, well. I pull out my phone and use it as a flashlight to navigate to the tiny replica bed. When I’m halfway there, I see two tiny green lights shining—Colossus’s eyes.

I smile and wave my phone at him, which must be a mistake because he starts barking loudly. Way too loudly for a creature his size.

Shit. This isn’t good.

His barks now sound like a tiny wolf cub’s howl—something that would be adorable if it weren’t happening in the bedroom of my nemesis and employer in the middle of the night.

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