Page 77 of The Elusive Billionaire

I take it back.This day can most definitely get worse, and I’m looking at it the second I walk into the Hideaway with Cian and Moose at my side.

People are everywhere. Fucking everywhere.

A small group of Sage’s teammates sit in front of the unlit fireplace, playing Monopoly—a mind-numbing experience I’d never like to have again. Braxton is buzzing around the room with a tray of drinks. Pops sits in his recliner with his hands behind his head and his feet swinging from side to side on the footrest, taking it all in.

Chief paces in front of the bay windows, nodding sagely as he stares into the darkness as if he’s the Secret Service. I can hear Sage and two of his football friends, Trevon and Ethan, laughing and talking loudly in the kitchen.

The only ones missing are Savvy and her friends, but the number of people in here is already giving me a headache.

I readjust the cufflinks holding my sleeve closed and inhale deeply. When I first moved to Happiness, I lived at the Hideaway with Braxton, Sage, Madi, and Pops, and that was an exercise in daily self-control.

Add in these extra people, and my entire head is about to explode.

“Uncle Grey, you’re back early.” Sage stands in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a tray of appetizers.

The room tilts on an axis I’m not equipped for, and I blink, willing myself to focus.

They all move around each other as though they’ve done it all their life. They’re a family with little to no blood relation among them. Uncomfortable tingling sensations dance across my palms.

“Yeah, I…” I don’t even know what I want to say, so I don’t bother finishing. Instead, I take the stairs two at a time untilI reach the landing. Then I open each door systematically in search of…in search of Savvy.

When the hell did she become my touchstone?

When I don’t find her on the second floor, I race to the third while wiping my palms on my pant legs.

There are only three bedrooms on the third floor now. One is a primary for Braxton and Madi, and one was being used as storage the last time I checked, so I barrel toward the third door as though I’m shot out of a cannon.

I don’t intend to take the door off its hinges, but as it slams open against the wall, I grab it to make sure I don’t cause permanent damage.

Madi and Clover sit side by side on the bed, facing me, while Savvy sits cross-legged, giving me her back.

Clover startles at my aggressive entrance, practically jumps out of her skin, and starts to tumble to the floor.

Savvy and Madi grab her before I can reach them and haul her back to the bed with handfuls of sweater and sweatpants.

“Geez, Grey. You’re worse than the three-hundred-pound linebacker downstairs,” Madi says while smoothing out Clover’s clothing.

It’s truly unhealthy how easily that woman startles.

“I…apologize.” My teeth grind as Savvy continues to give me her back.

“See?” Savvy flicks her thumb in my direction without even looking at me. “Ventriloquist, am I right?”

“Are you drunk?” I feel my lips curl at the corners. That’s when I realize my pulse has evened out, my headache has evaporated, and my palms no longer feel clammy.

Clover snickers, then whisper-yells, “Totally a ventriloquist. Did he take lessons?”

“Savvy was just…filling us in.” Madi giggles, and the motion sloshes apple juice all over the bedding. She found an oddaddiction to juice early in her pregnancy, and now she rests the half-empty cup on her blossoming baby bump.

Longing slashes across my chest as I stare at her protruding belly, but I force it away. There’s too much to deal with to focus on getting a baby right now.

Savvy still doesn’t look at me, and it stings—I’m not used to rejection. Well, fuck that. For better or worse, we’re in this together.

Stomping back down the hall and two flights of stairs, I yell. “Braxton. Sage. Meet me on the third floor. Now.”

As a child, I never dared stomp on stairs or slam doors. My father would have punished me, and the sick fucker enjoyed it too much for me to make it easy for him.

But ever since Savvy has inexplicably been woven into the fabric of my life, I’m lashing out in all the ways I’ve never done before. I can almost understand why teenagers do it now because the noise makes me feel marginally better.