My Grumpy Billionaire

I cling to my patience. Ripping into Charles’s annoying tendency to insist he’s right at all costs isn’t going to help my career at the college. “Charles, listen to me. I treated Sierra to a trip to Tokyo because I wanted to. It had nothing to do with the research center.”

“I don’t understand. How could you afford to pay for all that?”

Guess Lori hasn’t been able to unload on Charles yet. “The credit card points I’ve saved. How else?”

“But they only cover air and hotel!”

“Yes, but I also have some money saved. My field is economics, after all.”

He’s looking at me like I’m the most irresponsible financial derelict he’s ever met. Probably assuming that I’ve been scrimping and saving all my life and blew everything on this trip.

“So there are no funds coming in for the research center?” he asks.

“No. But if you like, you can ask Sierra directly when you see her next time.”

He brightens. “That’s right. She’ll be coming to the faculty social dinner.”

Damn it, I forgot about that dumb dinner. “I suppose so.” I tap my fingers against the desk.

Charles gives me a look. “She is coming…?”

“Unless there’s something else she has to take care of. After all, she’s a CEO, and emergencies do occasionally crop up.”

That should ensure Sierra and I have a good reason to not attend the dinner. Having to endure Charles’s begging is a form of torture. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody, except for Dad and Joey. It’s one of life’s unfortunate little ironies that I can’t sic Charles on them, because then he’d figure out who my father is. And I’d rather lick a feral cat’s anus than have that happen.