Page 172 of Filthy Hot Billionaire
“I’ll be going,” Knox noted, his hand moving over my stomach as though he sensed my apprehension.
I glanced over at him. “You’re not spending it with Kitty?”
One eyebrow arched. “How many times have I willingly spent a holiday with her?”
Not many, I knew. Most of the holidays consisted of Kitty making up excuses for why her son wasn’t there. On the rare occasion he did make an appearance, it’d usually been at Christmas.
Thinking about that made me wonder what my father was doing for Thanksgiving. Not that I would call to find out. The last time I’d talked to him hadn’t been one of his finer moments, and I wasn’t in a hurry to relive it.
“If you’d prefer not to, we’ll do something else. Just the three of us,” Kieran said.
“No,” I blurted. “Yes, I mean. I’d like to meet your mother.” I just wasn’t sure how well I would hold up under the scrutiny.
Then again, I had no other plans for Thanksgiving. If I didn’t go with them, I would be here alone, and I didn’t relish the idea of moping around when there was a better offer.
I cleared my throat, smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Kieran chuckled softly, kissed my nose. “For some reason, I don’t believe you, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
I snuggled in closer to them, closing my eyes and letting their warmth consume me.
Too bad we couldn’t stay just like this for Thanksgiving. It would’ve made my life so much easier.
32
Monday, November 21, 2022
Emily
Although I hated that the weekend hadpassed so quickly, I was bright and chipper on Monday morning when I walked into the office to see that Emmett was already there, standing at the side of Zena's desk, regaling her with his animated storytelling.
They both looked up and smiled as I approached.
“Good morning,” I greeted, lifting my travel mug of coffee in a mock cheer.
“Morning, boss,” Emmett said with a slow smile. “Are you ready to kick this week’s ass?”
I chuckled, heading for my office. “I’m ready to get you settled in, I know that much.”
“Where would you like me?” he prompted when he walked into my office behind me.
As I set my purse and my coffee mug down, I motioned for the adjoining double doors that led to a small outer office designed specifically for an assistant.
Emmett wasted no time, strolling over and opening the doors wide. His shocked inhale made me laugh.
Last week, after he’d officially accepted the job, I’d had the small office furnished and decorated just for him.
Because he’d mentioned he liked my office space, I had decided to do his in a similar manner. With Kieran’s help, of course. Turned out the billionaire didn’t only know how to manage money, he also had a keen eye for decor. Where my office furnishings were all white, I had Emmett’s done in what I liked to think of as art deco glam, an eclectic mix of the delineated geometric patterns done in blues, silver, and a variety of golds.
Emmett clapped his hands together, pressed the tips of his index fingers to his lips, and did a dramatic sweep of the room with his eyes. “This is for me?”
“All yours,” I confirmed. “I hope you like it.”
When he completed his full pivot, his eyes met mine, and I saw a glassy shine on them as though he was holding back his emotion.
Yes, Emmett and I were going to get along great. His exuberant personality was one that I found endearing.
“I hope you don’t expect me to get anything done,” he said, even as he walked around the desk and pulled out the keyboard drawer tucked beneath.
