Page 79 of The Billionaires

“Juno?” her father yells from somewhere, saving me from doing something crazy, like attacking her here and now, in this hallway.

“Coming!” she yells back, then looks at me apologetically. “Ready?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” I say, my voice a bit hoarse.

She tells me where the bathroom is if I need it, then sashays away.

At first, I follow her, but then I decide that a stop in the bathroom would be worth it—to splash some cold water on my face.

When that move fails, I’m forced to once again think the un-sexiest thoughts in my arsenal because even if earwax and boogers aren’t great for my appetite, they’re better than the alternative: for Juno’s parents to witness how my biology reacts to their daughter.

CHAPTER 29

JUNO

By saguaro’s ovaries, was I about to kiss Lucius again?

Maybe. I certainly wanted to, and if Dad hadn’t called out, I might have. How would Lucius have reacted? For a moment, it seemed like he was flirting with me, but maybe he was just getting deeper into the role?

Ugh, I really need to keep my libido under control. In my defense, Lucius looks particularly delicious today—and I blame all the phone conversations for that.

Now that I know him better, it’s hard to view him as solely a grumpy asshole. Not that he isn’t that, of course—there are just so many other sides to him, including the man who loves his grandmother so much he’s willing to go to incredible lengths to make her happy.

As I walk into the kitchen, I see that everyone’s left the most visible ‘head of the table’ spots empty for us. Very subtle. If we were getting married here today, that’s where we’d sit.

“Where is Lucius?” Mom asks, looking much too worried, all things considered. What does she think, that I broke up with him in the minute they left us alone? Or cannibalized him?

“He’s right behind me,” I say. “Probably washing his hands.”

Sitting down, I examine the table.

There’s enough food to feed a dorm full of hungry fraternity brothers—assuming they haven’t binged on caterpillars. As usual, experience and my enhanced sense of self-preservation tell me which dishes are Mom’s. Lucius’s contribution also stands out: a tray of fancy little tarts with smoked fish and cream cheese, caviar on crackers, tiny crabcakes, and cucumber sandwiches along with other hors d’oeuvres. Clearly, Elijah is behind some of these selections, given how well they’d go with British afternoon tea.

“Ah, there he is,” Mom says and flaps her eyelashes coquettishly at my date.

Seriously? With her husband right there? Then again, my grandmothers are also checking out Lucius admiringly. I guess he brings that out in anyone who likes males.

“Everything smells delicious,” Lucius says, his lips curving in an uncharacteristically warm smile. He throws a quick glance at Elijah, who nods approvingly.

What was that about? Did the butler coach him on how to be nice at dinner?

“Wait ’til you taste Lily’s paella,” Dad says and points at the dish I already suspected of having Mom’s particular touch. There are anise hyssop flowers in it (used as garnish?), which will add a licorice taste where it doesn’t remotely belong.

As everyone takes turns explaining what they brought, I ladle myself a little bit of everything and make a big show of getting some of Mom’s paella. I’m actually curious about it. The ingredients in this dish can vary greatly, so how badly could she mess it up?

The answer: spectacularly. I put a tiny spoonful into my mouth and find it very difficult not to spit it out.

When I think of herbs and spices associated with paella, things like paprika, turmeric, oregano, garlic, pepper, rosemary, and saffron come to mind. None of those are here. What I do detect is vanilla. And nutmeg. And soy sauce, for some reason? And what’s with the croutons? Oh, and let’s not forget the barely cooked rice, the overcooked, rubbery seafood, and enough salt to give everyone instant hypertension.

Mom is truly a virtuoso when it comes to making food inedible. Not for the first time, I wonder if there’s something wrong with her tastebuds—she munches on the paella gladly and looks like she’s genuinely enjoying it.

I catch Lucius putting a forkful of the atrocity into his mouth and watch to see how good he is at hiding his reaction.

His eyes widen. His chewing becomes labored. With clear difficulty, he swallows the mouthful. Then, with great feeling, he loudly says, “Wow, Lily. This paella is out of this world.”

Damn, that was good. He channeled his real emotions into that lie—which was not even a lie. This food is truly not of this world. It’s what the Upside Down monsters must eat in Stranger Things.

Dad looks at Lucius approvingly. “As of this moment, you have my blessing if you want to marry my daughter.”

---