My Grumpy Billionaire (The Lasker Brothers #2)

by Nadia Lee

I should’ve known we were doomed. What kind of heartless jerk hates Queen? And really, an adult man should have at least as good of taste as a hamster.

“Is it new?” I’m not wearing a used mask, especially when it belonged to my mother’s two-decades-younger ex-boyfriend. He might have worn it while they were fooling around, and I’d rather eat roadkill sushi than ask my mother about the specifics of her sex life.

“I’m her husband.” “Her ex-husband. An object in the rearview mirror of her life.”

“Did you fake those bruises?” I ask, more out of shock than the need to confirm. I know more about makeup than he ever will. “What?” He covers both sides of his face with his palms, rather than just the left. “Your bruises are melting.” “No, they’re not,” he says, but he sounds uncertain. Griffin leans forward. Todd turns his head away. “Stop! Stop it!” “Oh my God,” I say. “They are fake.” I wondered how they could last so long. It’s been two weeks since the Midnight God kicked his head. “That’s low.” Griffin straightens. “His jaw injury might be fake, too.”

“Nobody talks that much with a dislocated jaw,”

“Maybe they don’t have as much at stake!” Todd says. “No. It—hurts—too—much.” Griffin’s tone says, I can’t believe I need to explain something this simple. “You’re lucky to be able to suck down liquid meals.”

I flip through my mental calendar for what’s special about this weekend. Valentine’s Day has passed. “What’s the occasion?” “Your birthday.” “Oh.” I totally forgot. Ellie would’ve reminded me on Friday, but I’ve tried not to think too much about my birthday since Dad remarried. It hurts less that way. Oh yeah, everybody forgot my birthday—even me! We’ve been so busy, hahaha.

“Oh my God. Our seats have doors,” Sierra whispers as we step into the first-class cabin. “They’re called suites.” “I can see why. ’Cause these seats are suh-weet!” She looks around, eyes wide.

“I don’t normally do special requests, but this one I couldn’t ignore,” says Killian Axelrod. “It’s from a man who wants to do something very special for the most special woman in his life. He asked us for help, and I thought…why not?”

I turn toward Griffin. He’s looking at me with a small smile, his eyes bright and satisfied.

I hug Griffin hard. My heart gallops against my chest, and I can feel his thumping too. I bury my face in his shoulder as my eyes heat

with tears. All the loneliness I’ve felt since Mom and Grandma died starts to shrivel and die. In its place is a sense of belonging and love. Griffin might be my fake boyfriend, but what I feel for him is real.

That wasn’t what I thought she was going to say. So my guys are that persistent and strong, huh? It gives me an absurd sense of pride.

“Incredible. So Griffin’s alpha sperm overcame the obstacles and did the horizontal tango with your egg?” “Yes,” I say, laughing a little. “If eggs and sperm can even be horizontal. Oh, and I’m having triplets.”

“Stick to sex toys. Restaurants aren’t your thing.” “Don’t worry. A woman’s gotta know her limitations.”

“If you want something, fight for it. If people treat you badly because of this, you have to fight that to hold on to what you have.

Don’t let anything or anyone take away what you want. If you do, you aren’t fighting hard enough.”

“I would like nothing more than for you to go someplace as far away from me as possible.”

The weirdly achy throb in my chest I felt when she referred to the triplets as her family but not mine ripples through me again, more intensely this time. She couldn’t make herself clearer. It’s a fuck-you-and-goodbye box.

“Little ones, it’s just you and me. But it’ll be okay. I’m going to make sure that you’ll never, ever feel the lack from not having your daddy around. We’re going to be great together.”

“I’m sending his brother the latest products from our Midnight God line. They’ll make the perfect wedding present.” “Oooh! Do it, do it!”

And I most certainly do not get an erection while walking by the apples in grocery stores.

“I post them so people know that I exist and I matter. But I don’t let them control me. I do what I want. You should learn to do that too. You’re far too old now to be caring about what people think.” She pauses. “Really. It’s no longer cute.”

“Hey, stranger,” I whisper as I walk to him. “Hello, angel. Let’s dance.”