Page 200 of The Billionaires

Particularly this: why was she already leaving when I walked in? It would make a lot more sense if she’d stormed out after I gave her a piece of my mind about the note.

Something I didn’t even get the chance to do.

It’s almost like?—

My phone rings, and my first thought is that it might be Lilly, calling to ask for her job back. And to apologize.

Fine, maybe it’s more like I’m hoping it’s Lilly.

The caller, however, is Mom.

I’m tempted not to pick up, but filial duty wins out.

“Mom, hi. Is everything okay?”

“Hi, Brucie,” Mom says in her usual upbeat tone. In a sterner voice, she asks, “Did you get into a fight with your sister’s boyfriend?”

“What?” I look at Colossus as if he might have answers.

Mom sighs. “You know Angela isn’t a teen anymore, and that even back then, you were out of line when you?—”

“I didn’t get into a fight with her guy,” I state slowly. I mean, when he asked Lilly to dance the other week, I was tempted, but stopping oneself is what a fully developed prefrontal cortex is for. “What gave you that idea?”

“A few minutes ago, I walked in on him getting up from the floor in the kitchen,” she says. “He dodged my questions about what happened, like he was ashamed.”

“That is odd.”

“I know, right?” she says. “Angela also said she had no clue. Speaking of Angela, she said she’s going to break up with him, and I’m glad, because you know how I’ve always felt about second-hand smoke and?—”

I tune out the rest of what Mom says because some puzzle pieces are sliding into place, and I don’t like the emerging picture one bit. Could there be a connection between the two strange events of Lilly’s sudden departure and what Mom is talking about?

Setting the puppy on the floor, I tell Mom that I have to go.

“Sure, hon,” she says and hangs up.

I rush to my office and pull up the surveillance footage for the kitchen.

CHAPTER 36

LILLY

I slam my front door and drop the suitcase.

As I look around, I find another reason to be pissed at Bruce: thanks to being in his mansion for so long, my place now looks like a hovel.

And I want to cry more than ever.

I’m also weirdly numb.

And still angry.

So, so angry.

How could I have been so stupid as to sleep with a guy I so recently considered my nemesis? Or to develop feelings for his dog? Just his dog, mind you. Not him. No way can it be him.

Unbidden, images of our Netflix and chill sessions appear in my mind as my chest starts to ache and pressure builds behind my eyes.

When I started to pack my stuff back at the mansion, I hoped I’d feel better when I got home, but I feel anything but. A part of me must’ve also hoped that Bruce would stop me—but he did nearly the opposite.

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