One Weekend with the Billionaire novel Chapter 20

Normally, on the car ride back to my home from work, when I bother to go there instead of staying in my apartment close to the office, I am busy working. Either I am on the phone making deals, or I’m checking emails. But tonight, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is sitting next to me, and even though there’s plenty of space between us and it is obvious she is nervous, I would rather have her here than anyone else in the world.

At this time of the evening, after rush hour is over, there’s not a lot of traffic, but it still takes almost forty minutes to get to my house. While we ride, I attempt to ask Julia a few questions, but she is not in a chatty mood. I think it is because she is nervous and decide to leave her be. I wish she didn’t feel that way. I hope I have made myself clear that nothing will happen unless she wants it to.

We pull up to the gate outside of my residence, and the driver presses a button in the car that sends the iron gate opening, soundlessly. I am not a fan of squeaky gates. We drive inside, and the gate closes behind us.

Julia is on high alert now, her face nearly pressed to the window as we drive up to the front of the house, stopping halfway through the circle drive, right in front of the steps. The house is impressive at night. It is lit up, the white pillars and marble steps aglow, and the ambience of the soft lights filtering through the windows making the entire house seem welcoming.

I look at her face, and though I can only see part of it because she is peering out the window so intently, but her mouth is agape as she takes it in, and I can tell she is impressed. Normally, I don’t care too much what people think about my house. I admire the architecture and find it comfortable and well suited to my needs. I love the large gardens and the secluded setting, but it’s too large for just me. Someday, I hope to fill it with a family. I haven’t asked if Julia would like to have children one day, but I would like to ask her. Now is not the time, but as the driver opens the door for her and helps her out, I can’t help but think she would make a wonderful mother.

I get out of the car and take her hand, leading her up the steps, trying not to smile at her face. I am glad she seems to like it here, but I feel bad that she doesn’t have a home like this. She deserves every bit as much luxury in her life as I have. I can give that to her. Jeff Thompson, her pitiful excuse for a husband, will never work hard enough to provide this sort of life for her.