Page 156 of The Billionaires

Yep.

The sea of pads has been removed. I guess Mrs. Campbell trusts him now—or trusts Lilly to do her job. Either way, a deal is a deal, so I take out my phone and make sure Lilly gets that bonus I mentioned to her.

When I enter the media room, I don’t even get a chance to pick up the console before a videocall from my mother appears on my phone.

Setting Colossus on my lap, I accept the call. “Hi, Mom.”

Mom’s face looks eerily like Angela’s—or is it more accurate to say it’s the other way around? Biology obviously plays a small part in their likeness, but the larger and stranger resemblance came about after my sister convinced Mom to use her plastic surgeon. Or was that the other way around?

“Brucey, sweetie, how are you?” she asks, and though she hasn’t smoked in forty years, she sounds like she never quit.

“I’m well. How about you?” I angle the phone to show Colossus on my lap, and predictably, instead of answering my question, my mother gushes about how cute “her grandson” is for what feels like an hour.

“My break will be over soon.” I tap the watch on my wrist. “Was there any specific reason for your call?”

What I don’t add is that usually, there is.

“Can’t I call my son whenever I wish?”

I’m not sure if this one is biology or a plastic surgeon’s doing, but the way Mom purses her lips is identical to the way my sister does it.

I sigh. “Obviously, you can.”

“Good,” she says. “Though it just so happens that I did want to talk to you about something.”

Called it.

She smiles mischievously. “Or should I say… someone?”

Some people can’t keep their fucking mouths shut. “What did Angela tell you?”

“That you got yourself a very pretty dog nanny,” Mom says. “And that Angela disapproves of her already.”

I scoff. “I’m not sure there’s a woman in the world Angela would approve of.”

Mom nods sagely. “I trust your judgment of character, so if you like this woman, I will too.” I can hear the unsaid bit—especially if that means grandchildren.

“Lilly is just an employee,” I say firmly.

“‘Lilly,’” Mom says with an eyebrow waggle that I didn’t think possible given all that Botox. “As in, not Ms. What-ever-her-last-name-is?”

This is how rumors start, so I’d better nip it in the bud. “She insists on being insultingly informal.”

“And you go along with it?” Mom waggles her eyebrows again. “When is the wedding?”

“I’ve got to go,” I say and reach for the hang-up button.

“Wait,” Mom says. “Did I mention that we’re coming over?”

My right eye twitches. “You’re what?”

“Your father and I haven’t seen you and Angela in ages,” she says in a tone too accusatory, considering that “ages” is really two months in my case. “Since the two of you are going to be in the same place for once, we decided it was the perfect time to visit.”

Since I’m rendered speechless, I simply nod as Mom tells me their itinerary—my acceptance a foregone conclusion.

“Are you excited?” she asks when she’s done.

“I am,” I say with a sigh. “But I’d better get back to work. There’s a project I’m very passionate about that?—”

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