Page 90 of Most Eligible Billionaire

I’m Vonda.

“The leader of the company has nothing to say?”

And right there, something kicks in. Something perverse.

Because I’m Vonda.

Without even thinking, I take the mic, hold it with a grip of steel. “Does the leader of the company have anything to say? You want to know? Well, how about it, Smuckers?”

I frown at Smuckers. Nod my head. “Oh, dear,” I say. I turn to Dartford. “Smuckers says he issosick of your shit. He can’teven.”

The room quiets for the first time since I got there.

“Very amusing,” Dartford says, trying to take the microphone. I back away, daring him to go after a woman and a cute dog in front of all these people.

I nod as if Smuckers is talking and I’m listening. Out of the corner of my eye I see Henry’s warning face. I pause halfway up the aisle. “Smuckers here thought he was going to a nice community meeting where we talk about making a neighborhood nicer, but instead, it’s battle of the jerky titans. Please.”

There are more murmurs. Chuckles.

“Very funny.” The Dartford guy is coming for the mic.

I walk again. I feel Henry trying to catch my gaze, trying to shut me down. Too late.

“Is Smuckers in charge of this?” I look Henry in the eye. “Right now he is. This guy’s right. A dog is literally in charge of a worldwide development and finance company. Here’s the thing. Smuckers agrees with a lot of you about more green space, not less. He thinks so many buildings are just huge pieces of shit—new ones are the worst. Maybe they win awards, but seriously? Smuckers believes in human- and dog-centered design.”

People laugh. Somebody yells “More fire hydrants!”

“Nobody’s redesigning this project,” Kaleb says. “That’s not happening.”

I turn to Kaleb. “Why can’t we? Smuckers doesn’t understand. Why can’t it be nicer, like a garden?”

I feel Henry’s gaze on me. Not thrilled.

“Because it took a year to design, and that phase is over,” Kaleb protests.

“Smuckers doesn’t understand. If people don’t like it, why not make a new design? Right?”

A few people clap.

“We can’t,” Kaleb says.

The Dartford guys are laughing. I turn to them. Yeah, it’s their turn. “But here’s the thing. Smuckers hates racetracks. He thinks they’re messy and noisy and bring a lot of traffic and are horrible in a residential area, and he knows you guys are going to put it in. I mean, seriously? A racetrack?”

“We’re planning no such thing.”

“Smuckers says that everyone in the building community knows you are. You tried to get one in on Brockton Greens, right? You have partners looking with you. Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t know what ridiculous rumors you’ve heard.”

“Smuckers wants to know if you’d sign a thing right here swearing you wouldn’t ever build a racetrack here.”

Dartford glowers. He is not enjoying the feel of Smuckers’s fluffy paw on his balls. “This is silly.” He reaches for the mic.

I back away with my ear to Smuckers’s mouth. “What is that, Smuckers? You think it’s suspicious they won’t sign a thing like that? I think so, too!” I finally catch Henry’s wary gaze. “Henry, Smuckers wants you to put up that slide of the neighborhood-facing structure.”

“We’re done with that slide,” he says.

“Smuckers wants to see it again,” I say.

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