Page 170 of The Billionaires

The excitement grows stronger when Bruce reveals that he has rented a two-person golf-cart-like cycle so that we can pedal around the zoo grounds instead of walking.

“Why?” I ask.

“You know how much Colossus likes to mark his territory?” he asks.

I nod.

“We won’t get far if we traverse the zoo on foot, but this should help. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” I reply, and it’s almost true. If I did mind, it would be because of how date-like this mode of transportation feels. Or maybe romantic would be a better word?

“Great.” Bruce secures Colossus in the cycle’s compartment that is usually meant for children. “Do you want to be the one driving?”

I graciously take the side of the cycle that has a fake steering wheel. “Since you’re paying, you might as well get to drive.”

Then again, he is usually chauffeured everywhere, so perhaps?—

Nope.

I can tell he’s excited to be the one driving. How else to explain the enthusiastic way he begins to pedal, moving the two-seater without my help?

I start to help him after a minute, but we stop very soon, next to an exhibit that appears empty at first—with just a moat surrounding an island with an Indonesian temple in the center.

Colossus’s little nose becomes hyperactive, so there’s clearly an animal to be sniffed, if not seen.

And then, I spot one.

A tiger.

CHAPTER 23

BRUCE

At the sight of the giant cat, Lilly tenses, but Colossus just stares at the killing machine with a curiosity he usually reserves for stuffed toys, robotic vacuum cleaners, and new shoes.

Note to self: if I ever go on a safari, the dog will stay behind because he might just sniff the butt of a tiger if he got the chance.

Snapping out of her reverie, Lilly rewards Colossus’s chill behavior with a treat. Then we move on, stopping only when we spot a crocodile nearby.

This time, Colossus seems a little perturbed by what he sees, which is probably for the best as Florida teems with that creature’s alligator cousins, and few Chihuahuas would survive trying to befriend one of them. Then, as though trying to prove how bad he is at telling apart dangerous animals from benign, Colossus barks at the Malayan tapir.

“I know, sweetie,” Lilly says soothingly. “That thing needs to decide if it’s a pig or an ant eater.”

Somehow, her words calm the puppy, and as soon as he’s quiet, she reinforces the behavior with a cookie.

“Tapirs are actually related to horses and rhinoceroses,” I can’t help saying.

Lilly sticks her tiny little tongue at me. “And here I thought getting rid of Dr. Smith would mean we’d skip boring lectures.”

Fuck. Could I forbid her from doing that again, and anything else involving that delectable tongue, especially while I’m trying to pedal? Bikes and hard-ons definitely don’t mix.

Nah, bad idea. At best, I could politely request it. But with her being a contrarian, that would be like giving her a cookie. She’d just do it more.

Colossus begins barking again, this time at an orangutan.

“Hush,” Lilly says to him soothingly. To me, she says with a grin, “Not that you can blame him. He probably thinks that’s your chef, naked.”

I burst out laughing. Now that Lilly has pointed it out, the resemblance is uncanny.

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