Page 181 of The Billionaires

“Why does that make some warped kind of sense?” I ask, more to myself than to her.

“Because, my dear, you’re going to be Mrs. Roxford,” she says. “Please ask him if he’s got a rich friend. A mere millionaire will be fine. Oh, and ask if I can tag along on your next helicopter ride.”

“Do not tell your mom any of this,” I say firmly. “Else I’m going to get a call from mine. Again.”

“Not any of it?” She sounds like a kid with no gifts on Christmas morning.

“If you do, I’m never telling you anything again… and you can kiss the imaginary helicopter ride goodbye.”

“Fine,” she says grumpily. “But can I come after he confirms it was a date?”

“You’ll come when I say you can,” I state and hang up before she can beg me to change my mind.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Colossus sniffing around my bed, so I take him for his walk.

When we get back into the house, I order Colossus to stay.

Nope. Something—most likely the kitchen—is too interesting to resist.

Running after him, I hear voices in the kitchen and fully expect to bump into Ambrose and Theodora again, but that’s not who is there. It’s Angela, Bruce’s sister—and, apparently, a carrier of the dreaded giant baby gene. Not that you can tell she was so big at birth. Currently, she’s thin and small boned, and not that tall, at least compared to the rest of her family. Speaking of tall people, next to Angela is a man with a tan straight out of a bottle and a smile that doesn’t touch his eyes—which are set too close together if you ask me.

“Peanut!” Angela exclaims when she spots the puppy.

“It’s Colossus,” I remind her.

“Ah, right,” she says. “Colossus, please stay away from Champ. He’s allergic.”

Her boyfriend’s name is Champ? Does he take it like one too?

“Hey,” I say soothingly to Colossus, and when he looks at me, I take out a tiny cookie to emphasize my point. The gambit works. The dog stops before he can come into contact with Champ and runs to me. Good. The last thing we want is for the champ to melt, like the Wicked Witch.

“You go by Lilly, right?” Angela asks me as I grab the puppy.

“Yeah,” I say. “And you?”

“You may call me Angela,” she says, making it sound like the greatest act of charity known to man.

“Nice to meet you, Angela,” I say. “In the flesh this time.”

She nods. “You have very striking eyebrows.”

“Thank you?”

She touches her own, much thinner ones. “Do you put Rogaine on them?”

“No,” I say and resist frowning—because that would make said eyebrows move and thus bring even more attention to them. “Anyway, Colossus and I have a lot of training to do.”

“Wait, before you go…” She turns to Champ. “Can you give us a moment?”

Champ gives me a weird look. “Sure. I’ll go have a smoke.” Turning, he heads out.

Why did he look at me like that? I glance at my reflection in the shiny microwave to make sure I’m not still wearing the Mohawk-like helmet.

Nope. I’m good.

Whatever. With Champ gone, I set Colossus back on the floor—something he clearly needed because he runs to his water bowl and gulps greedily, like he’s been to the desert.

“So what’s up?” I ask Angela as I refill his bowl.

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