One Weekend with the Billionaire novel Chapter 35

I lead Julia down the hallway to the second surprise I have in store for her today, grinning from ear to ear as I anticipate how much she is going to love this. I hope that she does. It’s something I’ve had the staff put together while I was away, but I trust them fully to make sure that it is every bit as grandiose as I would’ve made it had I done it myself.

Julia is giggling, her hand warm in mine, as I pull her along. She is not in as big of a rush as I am, and I suppose that’s because she’s just enjoying the moment. That’s yet another thing I absolutely love about her, the way that she savors everything that happens around her, how she never lets a minute pass by that she isn’t taking in the beauty of it, if there’s anything at all worth noticing. I can’t let my mind linger on all of the time she has wasted with Jeff, not having any moments worth savoring, not now, not when I am about to thrill her.

We reach the room, and I wish I’d thought of bringing a blindfold. I am tempted to ask her to close her eyes, but I can’t wait. I pause and ask, "Are you ready?"

She nods. "I’m ready," she says, her smile so wide, I just want to kiss her.

But I also want her to see what is behind the door, so I open it instead and walk in, flipping the ligh switch as I enter.

She gasps and lets go of my hand so she can cover her mouth with both of her dainty palms. I look around and am not at all surprised to see everything is exactly as I had envisioned it. I look at her and notice tears in her eyes as she pulls her hands from her mouth. "For… me?" she asks before she begins to wave a hand in front of her face to keep from crying.

"Yes, for you," I tell her, reaching for her. "You like it then?"

"I… love it," she says, not able to keep the tears back now. They cascade down her cheeks as she continues to look around. "It’s… the most perfect art room I’ve ever seen."

I chuckle as I wrap my arms around her. She pulls her eyes away from the gift and looks into my face for a moment before she wraps her arms around my neck. I hold her close. "I’m so glad you like it."

"I love it," she says into my chest. "I love--it."

For a moment, I think she might say that she loves me, but she has caught herself and changed the trajectory of the sentence. I pretend it doesn’t bother me, that I haven’t noticed. "Good, good," I say.