Page 182 of The Billionaires

She edges in front of me, blocking my way back to Colossus. “Is something going on between you and my brother?”

Okay, whoa. This family is beyond nosy and blunt. Are the baby questions forthcoming? “Um… how is that any of your business?”

She wrinkles her tiny nose minutely. “My family is my business.”

Huh. With her New York accent, that sounded like a line from a mafia movie.

“Why don’t you ask Bruce?” I venture. And please, please tell me what he says.

She grimaces. “By now, you probably know that my brother can be difficult.”

“Difficult? Bruce? Are we talking about the same man?”

Angela’s smile is genuine—or so I assume. All that Botox makes it tricky to tell. “I have to admit, it would be fun to watch him date someone with such a smart mouth…”

“But?” I prod.

“But the two of you would be a bad idea,” she says, managing to sound equal parts sincere and regretful.

Regardless, my hackles rise. “Oh? And why is that?”

She winces. “I thought it would be obvious.”

“Not to me, it’s not.” Though I’m getting an inkling of where she’s going, and I don’t like it one bit. Even if I thought the same thing not too long ago.

She purses her lips. “When it comes to dating, like should be with like.”

And there it is. If I wanted to maintain some pretense of cordiality, I’d back off now, but I’m way past that point. “Care to explain?”

She glances at the puppy. “Well, to put it in terms you might understand, if the two of you were dogs, Bruce would be one of those show dogs with a pedigree going back to when his breed was first developed. You, on the other hand, would be closer to a mutt.”

If I were a dog, I’d be full-on growling.

“Thanks for not saying I’d also be the runt of my litter,” I retort sarcastically.

“Look, maybe that came out harsh, but?—”

“It came out like something a female dog would say.”

She flushes. “I?—”

“Did you already ask her?” Theodora asks loudly, walking into the room.

She’s in on this as well? So much for Aphrodite’s delusions about this family accepting me.

“Not yet,” Angela says.

Huh. So maybe?—

“I’ll ask her then,” Theodora says and turns to me, her smile eerily reminiscent of her daughter’s. “Will you help?”

“Help with what?”

“The party,” Theodora says.

I draw back—and it’s a miracle I don’t step on poor Colossus. “What party?”

“The obvious one,” Theodora says. “Given today.”

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