Page 98 of The Reluctant Billionaire

I sigh but stop short of an eye roll because I value my safety. ‘She’s in France,’ I concede.

‘How nice. And what’s she doing there?’

‘She’s at a wedding.’

‘Delightful.’

This fucking woman.

‘Did you not get invited to the wedding?’ she asks with an innocent sip of her espresso. She’s even holding her pinky out. Honestly.

‘I did,’ I tell her, ‘but this is more important.’

‘I see. Is that the thing you said you had on when I texted you yesterday?’

I hesitate. ‘Yeah.’

She sets down her cup.

Uh-oh.

‘Let me get this straight,’ she says in a faux-pleasant voice that doesn’t fool me for a second. ‘You are supposed to be at some, presumably glamorous, wedding in France, but you pulled out to help me?’

‘To help everyone,’ I clarify. ‘I didn’t want it being a nightmare for you or a washout for the kids.’

‘And what does Lotta think about this?’

‘She’s really fucked off,’ I admit.

‘Shocker.’

‘Judy.’

‘Don’t youJudyme, young man.’

I try again. ‘I understand why she’s upset with me, and I feel awful. But I know she’ll be fine. It’s some huge, ridiculous celebrity wedding, and they’re her friends, and—’

Her gasp stops me. ‘Donottell me it’s Josh Lander and Elle Hart’s wedding.’

I wince. ‘Yeah.’

‘Oh myGod.’ She whacks me hard on the bicep, and it fucking hurts.

‘Ow!’

‘You stupid fucking dipshit,’ she howls. ‘God, I want to physically hurt you. What is wrong with you?’

‘What’s wrong with me? I pulled out because I couldn’t leave you in the lurch! You told me it’d be a shitshow without me.’

She tuts. ‘Fuck’ssake. You know me. Of course I’m always going to give you a sob story, but Jesus, Aide, I would have worked something out. Andyoushould be in France with your beautiful, probably soon-to-be-ex girlfriend.’ For good measure, she jabs me with an evil forefinger right in the spot she just walloped.

‘It’s too late,’ I say. ‘She’s probably almost there already, and you were in a tough spot. It was the right call. Honestly, I don’t mind.’

That makes her slump. She buries her head in her hands and groans before looking up at me and laying a gnarled hand gently on my forearm. For some reason, it’s more ominous than the physical pain she just inflicted on me with seeming pleasure.

‘Aide,’ she says. ‘You are a good boy. You’ve always beensucha good boy. You’re also the cleverest kid I’ve ever seen. But sometimes you are thick as pig shit.’ She shakes her head sadly.

‘Hey,’ I protest.

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