Page 72 of The Billionaires

I’m just about done with the Smiths when my phone rings.

My heart leaps.

Is it Lucius already?

Nope. It’s my mom.

“Hi, sweetie,” she says.

“Hi,” I say, doing my best not to sound disappointed. “How are things?”

“You’re on speaker phone,” my dad chimes in.

Hmm. This is rare. I wonder why?—

“Why didn’t you tell us you’re dating?” Mom demands.

“And someone famous at that,” Dad adds.

And there it is.

“Your grandmother saw you in a picture in a magazine,” Dad says.

“You looked so pretty in it,” Mom adds. “But you should have told us.”

How does “pretty” logically flow into “told us?” I cover the microphone so they don’t hear me sigh, then explain about the NDA.

“But how serious is it?” Mom presses.

“The NDA forbids me from saying,” I reply.

“Does he treat you well?” Dad demands.

“I wouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t,” I say. “And there, you’ve just made me break the NDA.”

The conversation—or rather, interrogation—continues in that vein for a while longer.

“How about you bring him over?” Mom finally suggests.

I nearly drop the phone. “Bring him?”

That’s the craziest idea I’ve ever heard. If Lucius were a real boyfriend, I’d wait a year so as not to spook him.

“What a wonderful idea,” Dad says. “That way, we can see what’s what for ourselves, and you won’t break the NDA.”

Sure. That’s assuming Lucius would agree to this madness, and there’s no way he would.

“Please, honey,” Mom says. “If not for me, do it for your grandparents.”

Great. Guilt trip masquerading as an argument. “I can ask him,” I say reluctantly.

“Promise?” Mom says.

“Yes.”

“Great. Let me know when. Bye.”

She hangs up before I can change my mind. So evil. Also, it’s just occurred to me that Mom implied my grandparents would be at this hypothetical get-together. That’s the sort of thing I’d put my boyfriends through only after we were engaged.

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