Page 22 of The Billionaires

She leaps to her feet. “Let’s go see who it is.”

I check the peephole and gasp.

It can’t be.

I rub the eye that just tried to fool me and check again.

By saguaro’s spines, it’s Elijah—the driver of the billionaire we were just discussing.

I open the door.

Yep. Still Elijah.

“Hi,” is what comes out of my mouth.

“Morning,” he replies.

If this is a hallucination, it’s not just visual anymore.

I dart a glance at Pearl. Given her confused expression, she’s seeing the same thing I am.

Okay then, Lucius’s butler is here. At my door.

“Introduce us,” Pearl whispers loudly enough for the neighbors to hear.

“Sorry,” I say. “This is Elijah. He works for Lucius Warren.”

Pearl’s eyes widen. “Oh. Will you invite him in?”

Oh, right. “Please come in.”

Elijah darts a glance at the cat. “I was instructed not to get any cat on myself.”

“Oh, the cat was just leaving,” Pearl says.

“Indeed?” Elijah looks like she’s promised him peace on Earth.

“She’s actually my pet,” Pearl says with a wink. “So your employer doesn’t need to worry about allergies when he hangs out with Juno.”

Gah. Even after all the reassurances I gave her about us not dating, that is where her mind goes.

“I’m sure this will come as great news to him,” Elijah says with a bow to Pearl. Turning to me, he says, “He sent me to say that he is eager to speak with you when you have an opportune moment.”

I blink stupidly at everyone. “Eager… to speak with me?”

“Probably about the article,” Pearl says helpfully.

Oh. Shit. I didn’t even think about that. Am I in some kind of trouble? Is he? Is there a special FBI task force out there that polices the dating life of bad-tempered billionaires?

I bite my lip. “I guess I can talk to him.” Nodding at Pearl, I add, “If he kills me, I have a witness now.”

“Wonderful.” Elijah grabs a giant box off the floor by my door and hands it to me. “Mr. Warren kindly requested you wear this.”

In a stupor, I grab the box and look inside—as does my nosy best friend.

I’m not sure if I expected it to contain the cut-off head of the paparazzi who took our picture, the cut-off head of the person responsible for the elevator jam, or a portable potty in case I need to pee in Lucius’s presence again, but I definitely did not expect a dress, shoes, and undergarments.

“Wow,” Pearl says.

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