Page 25 of The Grumpy Billionaire

“I’m sorry, you used to always say that you prefer greeting cards to interactions. Remember?”

“I prefer that if the card is sent in the mail, not if it’s hand-delivered by a person who stands there staring at me. If that’s the case, go ahead and talk at me, because unlike some square of cardboard, you have the ability to adjust your communication to real-time reality, the real-time reality being that I neither want nor need whatever heartfelt effusion is on deck right now.”

“Whatever heartfelt effusion is on deck?” Stella’s eyes sparkle. “Oh, Hugo.”

“Is that it?”

“What if I want you to see what I wrote?”

“So the card is actually for you? The card is an obligation, and I’m supposed to react to it like a circus monkey so that you can watch me see what you wrote? If that’s the condition of the card, I’ll pass. Gifts with obligations do not interest me.”

She sucks in a breath looking highly entertained in spite of the fact that she’s using the energy of five nuclear reactors to suppress that smile of hers.

I grit my teeth and concentrate on my pad. I can’t afford to be distracted, but it’s no use. Her presence is magnetic, and the way she takes over a space…it’s just all very Stella.

Not that the magnetism is about her, specifically. Homo sapiens are hardwired to monitor the unpredictable individuals within their community.

“What?” I bark.

“Oh my god, Hugo! Fine! Read it when you’re home in your little hermit cave or whatever. Is that what you want?”

“It’s exactly what I want.”

“Under the cover of night, Hugo sits in his hovel. He opens his card. He steams it open, so as not to rip it.”

“It’s not a hovel, I’m not a hermit, and I won’t be steaming it open.”

“But you won’t rip it.”

I tap the screen, pulling up the currency exchange rates.

“Do you wish I wouldn’t thank you at all?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I guess you can toss it or whatever.”

When I look back up, I can see that she’s unhappy.

Something tugs at my chest. I yank open the drawer and grab a Tums. “I’m not tossing it; I’ll look at it later.”

“Okay.”

It comes to me that I’ve gone too far. In trying to minimize the disruption that is Stella Woodward, I’m being an asshole. I ask her how she’s fitting in.

“Are you asking me that because you just realized how mean you’re being? Is this you throwing me a bone?”

“Are you gonna let me?”

Stella sighs happily and sinks into the chair in front of my desk. “It’s good. I like the people for sure. I had to scramble on the skills acquisition front, but I’m up to speed. I won’t make you look bad, don’t worry.”

“Not a concern.”

She plucks a pen from the pen holder and clicks it repeatedly as she describes her new work friends, Hesh and Jane. It’s so Stella to go right to the people she likes.

I’m relieved the position is turning out to be tolerable at least. She needs to find something else, though. I’m surprised she hasn’t. She’s hardly the incompetent her family makes her out to be.

She crosses her legs and continues on. The skirt pulls tight, accentuating the line of her thighs, not that I’d dwell on it, being that she’s still Charlie’s little sister.

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