Page 30 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire
I shouldn’t be thinking about anything else.
Definitely not.
But as I hobble toward the house and my awaiting spreadsheet, it dawns on me that the only reason Miller saw me turn to look at him, is because he’d turned to look at me.
CHAPTER TEN
MILLER
Shit, why won’t this wrench grip the faucet properly? It feels like the fifteenth time I’ve tried to tighten it.
The other thing I need to tighten is my goddamn story. I nearly slipped up about the laptop thing. Thank God I managed to quickly concoct the idea that my assistant had sent it over to me.
What really happened is that I took a cab to my car to pick it up after Frankie went out.
Lying is shit.
I am being a shit.
And my skin crawled with guilt earlier when Frankie said most things are forgivable. I’m sure she’d change her mind if she found out what I’m doing here. Good one, Miller. Way to crush a perfectly nice woman’s forgiving spirit.
But I’m in so deep now I can’t back out.
Thankfully, one of our security guards is currently onthe train to come get my car and drive it back to Boston. So that’s one less thing to worry about.
I can’t allow myself to relax around Frankie like that. It’s hard, though, because she sort of brings out the relaxation in me. I’ve never been one to kick back and chill, but I could have cheerfully hung out on that picnic table and talked with her all day.
And it was very nice of her to bring me breakfast.
Her talk of revenge being a life-ruining emotion is bullshit, though. For me, it’s a motivational emotion. It’s what put the fire in my belly and made me a billionaire.
I mean, would I ever in a million years be sitting on the floor of a donkey stable trying to fix a leaky faucet with a wrench if it weren’t for the desperate need to get back at Skinner? No, I wouldn’t. Not in any number of millions of years.
On top of what he did to my family, there’s also the fact that he snatched the piece of Boston land I was trying to buy for my first condo development out from under me at the last minute. He almost ruined me just as I was stepping into the big league, told anyone who’s anyone in the city that I was an upstart kid who knew nothing, couldn’t be trusted, and no one should work with me.
Ah-ha, the wrench finally grips the band on the faucet and I’m able to turn it tight shut. I’m not much of a plumber, but the dripping immediately stops. If that doesn’t totally fix it, then it’s probably the washer and we’ll have to get a new one while we’re out picking up the hay.
Shuffling backward, I try to get up, but find my way blocked by a donkey. She has me virtually pinned between her body and the stable wall.
“Hey, what’re you?—”
She moves closer in tiny sideways shuffles.
“What the hell?”
She keeps going until she’s standing right over me and I’m trapped between her belly and the floor.
I’m about to drop onto my hands and knees to crawl out when Frankie’s laughing voice says, “Stay right where you are.”
“What? Why?”
The donkey starts rocking back and forth, rubbing her belly against my head—or rather, thank God, the hat that’s on my head.
“Perfect,” Frankie says.
“No it fucking isn’t,” I protest. “Is this thing humping me?”
Now the donkey moves her belly in circles, first one way and then the other.
