Page 199 of The Billionaires

I reread the note again, anger displacing some of the shock and hurt. Then, like a masochist, I read it one more time. And once more.

After I read it for the hundredth time, I shove the paper into my pocket and stride out of the room.

Lilly and I are going to have words.

CHAPTER 34

LILLY

What the hell? A ton of my clothes are missing.

Oh. Right. I vaguely recall Prudence saying something about doing my laundry.

Fine. Whatever. It’s not about the stuff. I just need my home. My space, where I can think.

Grabbing a suitcase stuffed with random crap, I head for the door—and bump into Bruce’s cement-like chest.

Wow.

His eyes are like two icebergs as he looks me over. “Going somewhere?”

My hurt and anger boil over, and again, my body makes the decision for me as my tongue forms the words. “Damn right. I quit.”

Immediately, I want to take it back, but it’s too late. His eyes grow colder yet, and his nostrils flare.

“Oh?” His voice is razor sharp. “Tired of the charade?”

Charade? Me? Is it possible to be too emotional to understand words? Or is he accusing me of something—like welcoming Champ’s gross advances?

I actually see red. “What happened was your fault.”

Strangely, his expression warms a fraction. “It’s not like I was involved, personally.”

Is he trying to excuse Champ’s behavior? “Speaking to you was a mistake.”

Something ticks in his jaw. “Right back at you.”

“Fine.” I push him out of my way, feeling like I’m about to cry. “Goodbye.”

CHAPTER 35

BRUCE

Colossus whines.

Fuck.

There I went and had a fight in front of him yet again.

Grabbing him, I sit on the bed that was Lilly’s until a few seconds ago and stroke the heavenly fur. As the dog’s eyes roll back in pleasure, I calm down as well, enough to think semi-coherent thoughts.

Like, for example, that I should be relieved she spared me the need to bring up her note, but I’m not. That I should be happy I discovered Lilly’s duplicity before I felt too much, but I’m not… possibly because it’s already too late.

No. No reason to waste time going down that train of thought.

I’ll probably feel better if I hold on to my anger. I mean, how crazy was she acting when I walked in? It’s illogical, even if I account for the fact that people’s prefrontal cortex (the rational part of the brain) doesn’t develop fully until twenty-five years of age, and she’s only twenty-three.

Still. Now that I’m a tiny bit calmer, something about our encounter doesn’t make sense.

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