Page 93 of The Grumpy Billionaire

Viola gets this weird look on her face. “The chia project? What does it mean?”

I mumble something about commodities.

Jane looks between her and me. Tinley seems to be suppressing a grin. Have people guessed our secret?

Finally Viola speaks. “You don’t want to know what Hugo made me research this one time. Do. Not. Want to know.” She fixes me with a hard stare and waits.

Okay, then. “What did he make you research?”

“Frozen orange juice consumption over the years,” she says. “Sliced by state and age group. And then when I presented that, he asked for grapefruit consumption research. I had to retrace so many steps, because juice research. And he makes you feel like a criminal when you ask the smallest question.”

I nod, looking extra concerned.

As soon as Viola leaves, a singsong voice drifts over the cubicle wall. “Hugh-dini likes youuuuuuu.” Hesh.

“What? Stop!” I whisper.

Hesh pops his head over the cubicle wall, eyes narrowed. “He requests you constantly. He walks by twice as much.”

“Hugh-dini doesn’t like anybody,” Jane says.

“He likes his ice-blonde Amazonian,” Hesh says.

“Who’s the ice-blonde Amazonian?” I arrange my pens, trying not to seem interested.

“Some hardbody high-performance trader he fucks,” Hesh says.

“He doesn’t like her,” Jane says. “You saw them at the Christmas thing—they say two words and head off. Like they’re sharing an Uber; not bodily fluids.”

“Hugh-dini has bodily fluids?” Hesh says. “Since when is ice classified as a fluid?”

Jane turns to me. “Heisasking for you a lot. Maybe you’re…less bothersome to him?”

“But I do my best to be bothersome atalltimes.”

Hesh snorts. “Maybe he wants you.”

“Please, she’s so not his type.” Jane turns to me. “You’re fun.”

I give her a thank-you frowny smile.

“You are.”

“Ice-blonde Amazonian,” I say, hoping they’ll add more details, which they do not.

* * *

I headto his office at lunchtime, telling myself not to ask about the Amazonian. No, no, no, no. We are not dating, we are fucking. He can have other fuckbuddies. He should have other fuckbuddies! That makes my heart safer, right?

I show up promptly at a little after noon and tell Brenda I’m here for chia research. She’s got a lunch bag and seems to be on her way out, but she pauses, frowning. “Hugo’s been doing a lot of chia research. Is there an agricultural or geopolitical angle to it?”

I wince inwardly, having forgotten that Brenda’s favorite vegetable in all the world is the chia. “It’s not really about chia.”

“Hugo doesn’t give things metaphorical names.” Brenda stares down at her desk. “Well, whatever. I just…like to know.”

“It’s sort of a joke name.”

Brenda sharpens her gaze, sensing subterfuge, because Hugo doesn’t give joke names, either.

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