Page 3 of Her Frosty Billionaire
I was about to set it down—really, I was—when my thumb accidentally caught the edge of the packing tape. It peeled back. Just a little.
“Oops.”
Mollie dropped her spoon. “Hope.”
“It was an accident.”
But now that it was open, I might as well…you know…check. I pulled the flaps apart. Inside, nestled in custom foam padding, was a sleek black box with silver lettering.
Frost & Co. Digital—Executive Edition.
I lifted the box out carefully. It was heavier than it looked, and when I opened the clasp, my jaw dropped. Inside was the most gorgeous smartwatch I’d ever seen. Black metal, sapphire face, glowing with a faint blue light. It looked like something a superhero would wear.
“Holy crap,” I whispered.
Avery leaned over. “Is that custom?”
“I think so.”
I turned it over. Engraved on the back in clean, minimalist font wasN. Frost.
My stomach dropped. “I have to return this. Right now.”
Mollie smirked. “Told you.”
I carefully placed the watch back in its box, resealed the outer packaging as best I could, and grabbed my keys. “Wish me luck.”
“Don’t get arrested,” Avery called after me.
I headed straight to the express elevator and pressed the button. When the doors opened, I charged inside and pressed the button marked 25.
Nothing happened. I pressed it again. Still nothing.
A small keypad glowed next to the button panel—of course the penthouse floor required a security code. I deflated against the wall.
“Great.”
I’d have to leave it with the concierge after all. Which meant explaining to him that I’d opened someone’s mail like an absolute?—
I slid my phone out of my back pocket and sent a text to my dad, who was senior building systems manager for Reboot. That was how my friends and I had managed to snag not one, but two units here—both next to each other.
Hey, what’s the security code for the penthouse elevator?I typed.Long story, but I need to return a package to 25C.
Three dots appeared immediately.Hope Juliet Haynes, what did you do?Dad wrote.
Nothing. Package got mixed up. I’m fixing it. Code, please?
2-5-1-2. And don’t touch anything up there.
You’re the best!
You’re grounded.
I’m twenty-three.
Still grounded.
I grinned and punched in the code. The button for 25 lit up, and the elevator hummed to life.
