Page 227 of The Billionaires

She waves her ring finger. “I guess people will believe me once you tell everyone we’re engaged.”

“Okay, you win,” I say. “Our secret contract will have a non-disclosure section.”

“Thanks,” she says sarcastically. “You should also threaten me with your fancy lawyers.”

“To say my lawyers are sharks is to make them sound cuter and cuddlier than they actually are,” I say with a straight face. “And don’t get me started on Bob. He literally looks like a honey badger.”

“Wonderful. Next, you’ll tell me you can afford an assassin too.”

“Why bother with that when my lawyers can make you wish for an assassin?”

She chuckles, but nervously, so I say, “I’ll give you a million before any contracts are signed. That way, you can get your own shark lawyer to review everything.”

She rolls her eyes. “You always go for the costliest solution, don’t you?”

“No,” I say. “I could’ve bought a private island for today’s meal and had you flown there on a private jet that I’d also bought for the occasion. I did none of that.”

“Oh, the restraint that must’ve taken,” she says, hand clutching non-existent pearls.

Just as I open my mouth to make a retort, there’s a thud on the restaurant doors, and when they open, Leo runs inside, his leash dangling behind him.

What the fuck?

Spotting me, Leo runs over and tries to get me to pet him—from under our table.

I’m so happy to see you. No, ecstatic. No, ardent. My tail actually hurts from all this wagging.

Shit.

The small table topsides, board crashing to the floor and sushi flying everywhere.

Jane leaps to her feet, no doubt worried she’s going to be tackled again.

She didn’t need to worry, however. When Leo spots the sushi, he forgets all about her and me and starts to feast as though he’s been starving for a month.

“How did you get here?” I demand.

Leo looks up from his all-consuming task and tries to look innocent—a tricky proposition when your face is covered in rice and fish that you’ve just knocked over.

I was just passing by. Smelled you. Figured I’d say hi.

“Did you forget to feed him?” Jane asks.

“Of course, I fed him,” I say. “So did his dog sitter, I’m sure.”

In that moment, Itamae-san runs out of the kitchen, and the fury on his face reminds me of the menpo masks that the samurai wore to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies.

Upon seeing that expression, Leo stops eating, whines, and hides behind me.

I didn’t do nothing. I was framed by a cat—hence all the fish.

“I’ve told you many times—you cannot bring a dog to my restaurant,” Itamae-san shouts in Japanese. “I don’t care how rich you are!”

“I didn’t bring him,” I say. “He?—”

“Shut up!” Itamae-san yells. “Take your beast and get out!”

CHAPTER 11

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