Page 254 of The Billionaires

Originally, I was going to take things a little slower, but now that I see how perfect she is, I don’t want to waste a second.

Perfect for the purposes of the hearing, of course.

She frowns, then shrugs. “It’s your show. Are you sure you don’t want to make sure I do well at this ball first?”

“No. That’s just a silly party.” Speaking of… I jokingly smack myself on the forehead. “We totally forgot about Mrs. Dubois.”

Jane grins and we sprint to the elevator, where the peacock-bright modiste is already waiting, along with the makeup and hair teams.

“Hello,” Mrs. Dubois says disapprovingly, her voice laced with a heavy French accent. “Did I get the appointment time confused?”

“I’m sorry,” Jane says, looking strangely crestfallen—perhaps because this is an unwelcome reminder of yesterday’s interview.

Mrs. Dubois eyes her up and down. “Not as sorry as you should be about that outfit.”

What the fuck? Does she think she’s so good at her job that she can be rude to a client? I’m tempted to fire her on the spot, but we’re too close to the event, so I’ll have to settle for putting her in her place, which isn’t hard since all I have to do is channel my late father.

“I thought I was paying your employers for your time,” I say imperiously. “Am I mistaken about that? Doesn’t that include waiting time?”

Mrs. Dubois’s eyes widen as she nods.

“Then you should be aware that if I wished, I could pay them for a year and just have you wait by this elevator the whole time.”

Mrs. Dubois takes a step back. “I didn’t mean any disrespect,” she says, her French accent fading out and a Boston twang creeping in.

“Perfect,” I say. “Do your best with my fiancée, and all will be well.”

“Fiancée?” Mrs. Dubois reexamines Jane, and this time, there’s undeniable respect in her gaze. “She’ll shine, I swear it.”

I look at the others. “Same goes for you, right?”

They all agree profusely, and one of them even gives me a military salute.

Dad would be proud, so I feel shitty.

“Set up shop in the living room,” I say in a kinder tone. “Jane knows the way.” I wink at her. “Meanwhile, I’m going to go take care of some business.”

They all head to the living room, and I go to my studio, where I start working on a new project—an animated movie for when Piper is old enough to want to watch such things.

And yes, I admit it, I’ve been inspired by the conversation with Jane. The plot for the movie is going to be a riff on Freaky Friday, Big, and other body-swap films, only in this version, it’s not a human that the heroine embodies, but a dog. As I type up the script and draw a few sketches of the characters, I enter a state of flow where time flies and the outside world seems to disappear. The heroine is named Piper, of course, and the dog is Leo, which makes drawing them easy: I just picture my daughter a few years older and as a cartoon, and my dog exactly as is.

I’m so lost in the work that when my phone rings, I stare at it in confusion for a second before I answer it.

“I’m all set,” Jane says.

Shit. We have to leave soon.

“I’ll be right there,” I say, and thank the heavens I got a haircut and took a shower back at Jane’s place, so all I really need to do is put on a suit.

Hurrying over to my bedroom, I stroll through my closet until I get to the suit section, which is in the farthest corner because I had my assistant organize the whole thing by frequency of wear.

Once I’m dressed, I head toward the library, but as I pass the kitchen, Leo trots up to me, tail wagging.

“Hey, bud,” I say. “You hungry?”

He wags his tail harder.

If I ever say ‘no’ to that question, I’ll play tug-of-war with a lion, fall on a sword, or eat a chocolate-covered raisin, whichever happens to be the more convenient way to end things at the time.

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