Page 74 of Filthy Hot Billionaire
“No manhandling the lady of the house. She’s injured.”
“I am not,” I replied as Guillermo released me.
Stewart’s gaze veered to my ankle. “No?”
I wiggled my foot. “All good. Just needed to rest it for a while.”
Seemingly content that I was telling the truth, Stewart threw his arms around me, hugging me just as tightly and making me giggle.
“No eggs,” Guillermo announced when he went back to his station at the stove. “And no meat.”
I felt a warmth deep inside. My stepmother had never allowed me to decide what I would or would not eat. She’d seen to the menu and despite my distaste for eggs and my desire to not consume meat, she hadn’t cared. I’d go so far as to say she added those particular things as a way of exerting her control over me.
“How did you sleep?” Stewart asked, leading me to a banquette tucked into the corner, with views of the city beyond.
“Like a baby,” I admitted, keeping my robe secured as I eased onto the bench.
“I knew you would,” he said, walking back over to what looked to be a coffee bar. He returned a moment later with a white mug and a small tray of accoutrements.
I thanked him as I doctored it to my liking, then took a sip. A moan of delight escaped.
Both men chuckled.
“Did you have a chance to look around?” Stewart retrieved a second cup of coffee and joined me, sitting at the other end of the wraparound bench.
“Some. How big is this place?”
“Eight thousand square feet. Three floors.”
“Three?” My eyes were wide. “What’s on the third one?”
“Technically, it’s the first.” He motioned toward the floor. “It’s a loggia for entertaining. Glass sliders on both sides that retract and open onto the balconies.”
I was speechless.
“He went all out,” Stewart said softly.
I peered over at him, overwhelmed by emotion. “Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Guillermo mused from where he was dishing his masterpiece onto plates. “He’s smitten.”
My cheeks warmed from my blush, but I shoved it aside. Knox had proven how he truly felt with his betrayal. He’d successfully taken every physical possession we’d owned, including the house, my father’s many cars. I wouldn’t believe for a second that he’d done this out of the kindness of his cold, cruel heart.
After breakfast was finished, Stewart took me on a tour of the loggia, which was exactly as he’d described. It was an entertainment space with tall ceilings and enormous retracting windows that allowed the outdoors in. More of the same white Macauba flooring reflected the natural light that flowed in from both ends of the space. There were seating areas on the side overlooking the park, a scattering of perfectly placed pieces—sofas, chairs, oversized loungers—positioned for optimal conversation. The other side had a dining area and another seating area, the outdoors accessible on both sides.
“I’d say we could chill out here for a while, but unfortunately, you’ve got an appointment,” Stewart said as I stood at the railing, taking it all in.
I peered over, frowned. “An appointment?”
“Mr. Montgomery said to tell you it’s a birthday gift.”
“What is it?”
“Get dressed and I’ll escort you down so you can find out for yourself.”
I was both nervous and curious as I went back to the third floor of the residence and dressed in a pair of leggings and a soft cashmere sweater. Once I was decent, Stewart led the way to the private elevator. We ventured down to the second floor of the high-rise.
We exited the elevator and were immediately transported into a serene oasis that was actually a calming anteroom complete with a long white counter topped with thick blue-tinted glass.
