Page 253 of The Billionaires

He shrugs. “I’d trade all of it if it meant I’d find something like your passion for books. Or is it libraries?”

“Books,” I say definitively. “Have you thought about pursuing something multidisciplinary?”

His eyes light up. “Such as?”

“Maybe become a journalist who covers a bunch of topics? Or a software engineer who writes apps for different fields? Or a teacher of many subjects?”

Adrian’s excitement dims. “None of that sounds good to me. When I write, I only write fiction. When I code, it’s only as a means to an end of some project. I’ve never tried teaching, but I don’t think that’s for me. Plus, it requires advanced degrees, while I’m self-taught in most of the areas I’m interested in.”

“You write?” I exclaim, latching on to what matters most to me. “What genre?”

He winks at me. “It’s not historical romance, sorry.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to write that. I don’t think you could, even if you wanted to.”

He cocks his head. “That sounds like a challenge.”

I roll my eyes. “Are you dodging my question on purpose?”

“I’m writing a children’s book,” he admits. “For Piper.”

“You are?” Am I about to swoon, or is this the infamous fit of the vapors? “That’s amazing.”

“You think so?” His eyes gleam a brighter silver. “I was thinking that if that goes well, I’d make a cartoon out of it, too—and create everything for it myself: the music, the story, the hand-drawn animation, and the CGI.”

“There,” I say. “If that project goes well, maybe that could be your thing. You could start with cartoons, then try movies. Sky’s the limit, really, and all of it is extremely multidisciplinary.”

Adrian rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t hate this idea.”

His phone rings.

“Ah,” he says after glancing at it. “The modiste is downstairs.”

I grin. “Seems like the tour will need to be postponed once again.”

“But I so want to show off,” Adrian says. “Maybe we can do a speed version?” He extends his hand to me, his expression devilish.

I take his hand, my fingers tingling. What have I got to lose?

Miss Miller could name a few things a lady could lose under circumstances such as these: virtue, honor, dignity, and her common sense.

Grinning, Adrian sprints down a corridor, rattling out the names of the rooms. Half of them sound like he’s making up rich people clichés, like the pool room, the wine cellar, the gym, the spa, et cetera.

When he says “the library,” I halt in my tracks and check if he’s telling the truth. After all, there were books in the living room already.

“Oh, my,” I gasp as I peek through the double doors.

It’s a library bigger than my whole house—one that could contain the library from Beauty and the Beast twice over.

“I’m sure you’ll spend plenty of time there,” Adrian says, gently squeezing my hand. “After all, you’re moving in… tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 18

ADRIAN

Jane turns my way, eyelashes flapping like hummingbird wings. “Tomorrow?”

“If that works for you,” I say.

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