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jacket, hung it carefully over a chair, rolled up his sleeves, and walked to the sink.
“Here’s $100—Can you be my mom today?” a billionaire boss’s son asked—until a shy woman replied, “Keep it. Billionaires pay in secrets.”
Milo stared. “You want to help?”
“Yes.”
“I intend to be terrible.”
Milo laughed, and Julian went still at the sound, as though it had reached somewhere deeper than bone.
