Page 95 of The Billionaires

What the hell?

I realize he might have a million-dollar pillow waiting for him at home, but I thought?—

“Sorry,” he says, pulling on his clothes faster than I thought humanly possible.

I narrow my eyes. “Sorry about what?”

He spreads his hands. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

My heart drops. “By ‘we,’ do you mean ‘I?’ And by ‘this,’ do you mean ‘me?’”

He pulls up his zipper. “What?”

“Nothing.” I fight violent urges, as well as a pressure behind my eyes. “Since you’re so eager to leave, fucking leave.”

“I’m not—never mind. I’m going.” He puts on his shoes. “Sorry, again. Call you tomorrow?”

“Don’t.” He should thank saguaro I don’t have a lamp nearby, or something else I could toss at his stupid head.

He gives me an indecipherable look, then closes the door with a loud bang.

I bury my face in my pillow and begin to cry.

CHAPTER 36

LUCIUS

On the way home, I battle a million questions and an increasing sense of confusion.

What have I done?

Why did I fuck her?

Why did I leave?

I’ve ruined everything. I let biology rule me, and now I don’t know where we stand.

Fucking fuck.

This was the best sex of my life, but I have no idea if it was the same for her.

Probably not. I bet she was just playing along with this fantasy we’ve built.

If I weren’t in a limo, I’d start pacing, but as is, I just clench and unclench my fists.

I’ve never been in a situation where I liked a woman this much. Never allowed myself to be.

Oh, who am I kidding? I more than like her. And this is all fake. At least it’s supposed to be fake. Only it’s no longer fake on my part.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left. But if I’d stayed, kept her in my arms a second longer, I would have fallen deeper into the fantasy. If I’d given in to the illusion, told myself she could care for me as much as I care for her, I’d come to regret it, I just know it. It would be like that time in high school when Amanda pretended to like me to make her ex jealous. Afterward, she acted like I was a leper.

The more I think about it, the more I doubt Juno truly feels anything for me. No amount of money can change who I am, and no woman has ever been interested in that guy. I know Juno well enough to realize that she doesn’t care about money in the stereotypical gold-digger way—all she wants is to pay her tuition and have the basics needed to survive. But I also know her well enough to see just how amazing she is—and what are the chances someone like that would be the first woman to want me for anything besides the billions?

At some point, I realize that I’ve managed to get home and finish my bedtime routine without even noticing, like the robot I no longer wish to become. Not unless my robot body could allow me to experience what I felt earlier today, when Juno was in my arms.

Whatever. I don’t need to think about robotics tonight, or about anything, really.

What I should do is try the impossible.

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