Page 160 of The Billionaires

All right. I’m not going to use food for this. He’s eaten too much today already, plus toys are all about fun, so if he doesn’t want to play, I won’t force the issue. What I do instead is pretend that I’m fascinated by his other toy—a small monkey that squeaks.

The gambit works. As soon as he notices how much fun I’m having with the monkey, he walks over to check it out—the shark still in his teeth.

As soon as he’s within reach, I gush praise on him so he knows that walking over pleases me, and then I toss the monkey. Letting go of the shark, he runs after the new toy.

I repeat the whole thing a few more times and then wait to see what he does.

He brings the monkey to me, tail wagging.

“Good boy,” I say as I reach for the toy. “Thank you.”

Not so fast. He doesn’t let go of the toy—which is a common dog behavior. Instead of fetch, he wants to play tug, and why not?

I play tug with him, letting him win a few times. When it’s my turn to win, I toss the toy.

He brings it back.

We’re halfway there already.

We keep playing like that for a while longer, and I watch him for any signs of needing to go potty—a common occurrence after playing. Nope. He simply walks over to my pile of dirty clothes and passes out.

I grin. This used to happen when Roach was a puppy too.

Using the little free time this gives me, I strip off my yoga clothes, rush to the bathroom to freshen up, and dress more presentably—in case I run into anyone during lunch.

No one specific… just anyone.

Once I’m dressed, I start reading The Witcher as I wait for the puppy to wake. Two pages later, my phone rings.

I pick up quickly. “Hello,” I whisper.

“Hello to you too,” Aphrodite says sardonically. “I demand a full status report.”

In order to not wake Colossus, I take the call to the bathroom, where I grudgingly tell my cousin about the kiss.

The squeal on the other end of the phone is so high and loud I half expect the dog to wake up even though he’s in a different room. “I told you so,” Aphrodite says when she catches her breath. “Now remember, ovulation can last from twelve to forty-eight hours, so you’re still in that window—and will be until tomorrow.”

“He’s pretending the kiss didn’t happen,” I say with an eyeroll. “Not that I’d let him anywhere near my eggs in any case.”

“Sure, sure, sure. Nothing will happen—just like that kiss didn’t.”

I squeeze the phone tighter. “That’s different.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I can somehow hear that she’s got a stupid grin on her face. “Just use a condom when it ‘doesn’t happen.’ Or not—all depending on the plans you do not have.”

“Is there a term that’s similar to fratricide, but for when you kill your cousin?” I ask.

“Hey, I’m on your side here,” she says. “Newsflash: we’re talking about a hot billionaire who also seems to be a good kisser.”

“When did I tell you that he’s a great kisser?”

“Never,” she says. “But what you just said proves it.”

My phone rings with a video call from my mom.

“I’ve got to go,” I say. “Mom is calling.”

“Oh, yeah,” Aphrodite says sheepishly. “That’s why I was calling. There is a tiny chance I might’ve told my mom about your new job… and you know how our moms are.”

---