The Billionaire's Regret
Adrian turned toward me, still holding Poppy, his body tilted slightly to avoid the suitcase that had nearly taken out his shin.
“Hi,” he said, his voice dropping a level, softer, meant only for me. “The airport was a circus. But I managed to rescue these two wild animals from immigration.”
“Immigration doesn’t have enough forms for them,” I replied.
He smiled, a fine line appearing at the corner of his eyes. Something in my chest tried to rise, but I shoved it back down with ancient techniques: sarcasm and focusing on logistics.
“Put them down first, then we can discuss these emotional human rights violations,” I said. “Poppy, down. Shoes don’t come to the table.”