Page 76 of The Billionaires

We learn so much about each other that we could convince the CIA we’re really dating. Our families don’t stand a chance.

It’s great, but there’s one problem.

As the days go by, I begin to miss him. The calls, informative as they are, are no substitute for his magnetic presence.

It’s dumb, but I can’t help it.

Some part of me has clearly forgotten how fake our arrangement is.

CHAPTER 28

LUCIUS

“How is that cat doing?” I ask Juno as my limo drives to the private airport where my plane is parked. We’ve been chatting all through my packing, and I’m still not ready to get off the phone.

She laughs—a sound I find strikingly pleasant, especially as of late. “Are you really inquiring about the fluffy would-be-murderer? Clearly, we’ve run out of things to talk about.”

I yawn, glancing out the window at the darkness outside. “You’ve got a point.”

“Stop yawning,” she says, then yawns loudly. “The cat is doing great, but her mom is going to murder me, thanks to the NDA you made me sign. If gossip were a person, it would be Pearl.”

I frown. For some reason, I get annoyed whenever I’m reminded of the NDA, or other details that highlight the true nature of our arrangement.

“Speaking of the NDA,” Juno says. “You have to tell me what I can and can’t speak about when we visit my parents tomorrow.”

My limo stops, and I exit it as Elijah gets the bags. “If in doubt, you can look at me,” I say. “I’ll blink if it’s okay to share whatever you’ve started to talk about.”

“If you blink too much, they’ll think you’ve got conjunctivitis.”

I ascend the stairs to the plane and take my seat. “How about you sit next to me at your parents’ table,” I say to Juno as I activate the massage feature. “If I want you to stop speaking, I’ll step on your foot.”

“Gently,” she warns.

I grin. “I’ll make it feather light.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now I have to hang up. We’re taking off in a minute.”

“I can’t believe I’ll finally see you tomorrow,” she says, and something in her voice makes my chest go tight yet light at the same time.

I also feel a pang of guilt. There’s a tiny chance I stayed longer in Florida because I was dreading what might happen when I see her again.

What biology might make me do.

“Anyway, go,” she says, but I don’t hear the line disconnecting.

“Well, hang up,” I say, reluctant to do so myself.

“No, you hang up.”

Seriously? “No, ladies first.”

“Age before beauty,” she says.

I don’t know what’s more ridiculous, this back-and-forth or my strange stubbornness.

The plane’s engines come to life with a roar.

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