Page 114 of How to Train Your Billionaire

“It’s not that complicated.”

“It has more buttons than my washing machine.”

I glance over at her. She’s pouring the eggs into the pan with one hand while flipping bacon with the other. Multitasking like she’s been doing this her whole life.

I’m impressed.

The espresso machine hisses. Steam rises from the milk frother.

“Have you learned to use a washing machine yet?” she asks over one shoulder.

“My parents didn’t exactly encourage domestic skills.”

“Too busy teaching you how to crush your enemies and acquire wealth?”

She’s joking, but she’s not wrong.

“Something like that.”

Frankie plates the eggs and bacon, then turns to face me. Her expression’s gone soft.

“Hey. I wasn’t making fun of you.”

“I know.”

“It’s just ... different worlds, you know? Sometimes I forget how different until moments like this.”

I hand her a perfect cappuccino. She takes a sip, and her eyes roll back.

“Okay, maybe the fancy coffee machine is worth it.”

We sit at my kitchen island—something I’ve never done before. I usually eat standing up, checking emails, already mentally at the office.

This is . . . nice.

“So,” Frankie says around a bite of bacon, “what’s the plan for today?”

“Plan?”

“Yeah. It’s Saturday. Normal people have weekend plans.”

I don’t have weekend plans. I have conference calls and reports to review and—

“What do you usually do on Saturdays?” I ask.

“Depends. Sometimes I hang out with Tessa. Sometimes I catch up on laundry, clean my apartment. Exciting stuff.” She takes another sip of coffee. “What about you?”

“Work.”

“Work work? Or rich-people work?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Rich-people work is like, checking your stock portfolio and complaining about your yacht captain. Real work is actual work.”

I consider this. “Probably rich-people work.”

“Thought so.” She grins. “Well, today you’re doing normal-people Saturday.”