Page 255 of The Billionaires

I feed him and check my phone to see when the newly hired dog sitter is getting here. Turns out, he’s been here for an hour, waiting by the elevator.

I take a dog treat to him to make sure he and Leo click before I go to the library.

Walking in, I realize I might’ve worked on that animated movie for too long because when I see Jane, I feel like I’m turning into a cartoon wolf—my jaw dropping, eyes boggling, tongue lolling, and Yoda rock-hard.

Spotting me, Jane blushes. “What do you think?”

Oh, fuck. I’ve been staring, speechless. “You look magnificent,” I say and still feel like that’s an understatement.

The black dress she has on hugs every curve in just the right way, and the fancy hairdo makes me want to untangle it all and run my fingers through the silky brown strands as I?—

“You look rakish,” Jane states, but I don’t think it’s an insult this time. “And you sound like one too.”

Ah, so maybe a little bit of an insult, after all.

One of the hair people walks up to me, looking sheepish. “Would you like me to style your hair, sir?”

I glance questioningly at Jane.

“He knows what he’s talking about,” she says.

I turn to the guy. “Make it quick.”

As he does his thing, he asks me if my suit is Ermenegildo Zegna and the shoes Scafora, and I tell him that I honestly don’t know—they are whatever my shopping assistant got. All I know is that they were made for me, which involved an annoying waste of time with all the measuring. I’ve been getting the same suit and shoes ever since, to avoid a repeat of that.

“Okay, done,” the guy says after a couple of minutes.

As I glance at the mirror, I don’t really see a difference, but I’m not a huge expert on this sort of thing.

“Thoughts?” I ask Jane.

“Even more rakish,” she says with a sigh.

“Great. We’d better run.” Turning to the crew, I say, “Great job, everyone.” To the modiste, I say, “Can we forget about the earlier unpleasantness?”

“What unpleasantness?” she asks, French accent back in play.

With a smile, I grab Jane’s hand and drag her to the limo, even though my bedroom seems like a much more tempting destination.

“Is the place far?” Jane asks as we ride down the elevator.

I rip my gaze away from her cleavage. “It’s walkable. But since you’re in high heels, we’ll take the limo.”

Speaking of heels, I never noticed how extra sexy women’s butts look when they wear these things, or how much?—

“A limo?” Jane wipes imaginary dust from my shoulder. “Why forgo taking the helicopter?”

I shrug. “The venue doesn’t have a helipad?”

She scoffs. “The scary part is that I’m not sure if you’re kidding.”

“I was kidding. But there is a helipad on my roof, and I do have a helicopter—and I even know how to fly it.”

The elevator stops and I gesture for Jane to get out before she can further chastise me for being a rich cliché.

“You said this ball was a fundraiser,” Jane says when the limo pulls away. “What’s the cause?”

“WSW,” I say.

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