Page 16 of The Billionaires

Sounds like his important meeting is as much of a bust as my interview.

He pushes through the firefighters, and I follow, all the way to the front doors.

To my surprise, Lucius holds them open for me. Probably to speed up the process of getting me—and the cat—out of his life.

I still thank him as I pass and make sure not to touch him with the bag containing the cat.

He doesn’t acknowledge my gratitude, probably because he’s too busy glowering at a couple of people with cameras.

Hey, it’s interesting not to be the target of his ire for a change.

I check out the strangers. They look like reporters, or maybe paparazzi. Either way, how bad was that basement fire to draw them here? I didn’t think either group even covered fires.

“Mr. Warren,” says a man who looks the most like a weasel—and his competition is stiff. “Is that?—”

“No comment,” Lucius says sharply.

The guy doesn’t look the least bit surprised by the rebuke. Lifting his camera, he joins his brethren in taking pictures of Lucius—and, thanks to proximity, of me.

I blink at the bright flashes and frown.

Who is Lucius that paparazzi-types want to take his picture?

Ignoring the cameras, Lucius waves at a limo parked nearby.

An older man with the stiff upper lip of a butler exits the vehicle and opens the back door.

“This is Elijah,” Lucius says to me. Turning to Elijah, he commands, “Take Juno home.”

I’m getting a ride in a limo? Seriously?

Who is this man?

“What about you, sir?” Elijah asks, predictably with a British accent.

Lucius replies with a glare.

“Consider it done, sir,” Elijah says with a courtly bow.

“Lucius must be a pure joy to work for,” I say to Elijah in a conspiratorial tone as I approach the vehicle. I’m not about to turn down a free ride after everything I’ve just been through.

The corners of Elijah’s eyes smile, but the rest of his face looks dignified, stern in its butler-ness. “Have a seat, please.”

“Hold on.” I carefully place my bag on the floor of the limo. “I have to give Lucius his jacket back.”

Lucius wrinkles his nose. “Don’t.”

Is he nuts? It must be expensive, and I’ll have no use for it.

“Seriously, take it back.” I slide my arms out of the sleeves. “If it’s about the cat cooties, I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”

Lucius turns to Elijah. “Dispose of that.”

Elijah takes the jacket and gestures for me to get inside the limo.

I do so, and only after he closes the door do I fully process just how weird this is.

Why is Lucius giving me a limo ride in the first place? Isn’t he worried he’ll have to fumigate the car afterward on account of my cat companion?

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