Page 87 of Filthy Hot Billionaire
Kieran smirked. “You’re a very persuasive man. I doubt she’ll say no.”
Only time would tell, I figured.
17
Emily
I didn’t do much of anything afterKieran left.
I called Siobhan, explained to her what little I could about what had happened, leaving out the fact that Knox Montgomery was my stepbrother and that he was the one footing the bill for the enormous Central Park apartment I was now residing in. She hadn’t been happy that I wouldn’t go into details, but I assured her everything was all right and I would see her on Monday at some point. I did have classes, and while I wasn’t eager to get back to them, I would go because I had committed to it.
After that, I went to my bedroom, looked through the few items I’d had in my dorm, all of which had been unpacked and put neatly away in the extra closet. There was nothing in there that I needed, or even wanted, aside from the laptop I’d purchased for myself with some of the money the university had loaned me. Everything else was easily replaced by the things Knox had furnished the apartment with.
Once I was bored with that, I went in search of dinner, finding a note on the kitchen counter from Stewart: CONTAINER IN THE REFRIGERATOR. JUST HEAT IN THE MICROWAVE. CALL ME IF YOU NEED ASSISTANCE.
My heart ached at the hard scribbles on the page because I knew I’d hurt Stewart’s feelings earlier when I was yelling at Knox. I hadn’t meant to say I didn’t want to be here, because I did. But not because of the accommodations, necessarily. I did, however, want to spend time with Stewart and Guillermo, two of the people I’d missed most since I left Texas.
Out of curiosity, I checked to see what my dinner looked like. I found a portabello mushroom burger with Swiss cheese and a side of zucchini fries. My heart was flayed open because that was one of my favorite meals and Guillermo had made it for me.
Rather than eat, I went in search of the wine cellar Stewart had mentioned during our brief tour, skimmed the bottles until I found what I was looking for. There were a few of the Moscato that Kieran had given me at the club, so I took one and returned to the kitchen.
After I managed to uncork it, I poured a glass and wandered to the dining room, flipping off the lights so I could look out at the city skyline in the dark.
That was where I remained, my thoughts drifting back to the days after Knox had evicted us from our home.
“Nothing in there belongs to you,” came a sharp voice from outside my closet.
My father had unlocked it when he told me I needed to pack up a few things to take with me after I showed him the acceptance letter to NYU.
I paused as I perused the rows of ugly clothes I’d been wearing day in and day out for as long as I could remember.
“It is not our responsibility to clothe you anymore,” Kitty hissed. “You are a grown woman. You can buy your own things.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “How? Tell me that. How do I buy anything?”
“You should have thought about that before,” she snapped.
I glared at my stepmother, felt an overwhelming rage bubbling inside me. “How? When you’ve been doing my thinking for me all my life?”
“That is not my problem.”
No, I didn’t figure it was. I knew Kitty had never liked me. Hell, she’d barely tolerated me. That was the only way to explain how she’d treated me all these years.
“I’ll need something to wear,” I argued, forcing my tone to be even, non-threatening.
She stepped into the closet, her movements clipped as she marched over to one of the racks. She skimmed through a few things, then yanked a couple of items off the hangers, throwing them in my direction.
I could see her temper glittering in her eyes, knew better than to pick a fight with her right now. Whatever had happened, whatever had caused Knox to do what he did, Kitty clearly blamed me for it. Unless he’d been upset about my behavior last night, I couldn’t imagine there was anything I could’ve done to provoke him in such a manner, but I knew Kitty, knew it was pointless to tell her otherwise. She needed a scapegoat and I was her mark.
“If you take anything else, I will know,” she barked, glaring at me.
“I won’t,” I promised.
Her eyes were hot as she pinned me in place. “You never were quite good enough,” she rasped. “Right on the cusp, but never quite.”
With that parting shot, she stormed out, leaving me with the tears that filled my eyes.
Now, as I stared out into the night, not for the first time, I wondered what had spurred it. Why Knox had taken everything from my father, why Kitty had placed the blame at my feet. He claimed I wasn’t at fault and I believed him. The look on his face when I’d asked had been one of shock and possibly hurt.
