Billionaire With a Twist by Lila Monroe Read Free Book Online Page A

us into awkwardly close
proximity.
    Oh, Mr. Knox, I don’t want to
put you out, I can stay at a hotel—
    And make you have to commute an hour
a day, wasting valuable time? That guesthouse is just sitting empty.
You’ll be doing me a favor, giving me a reason to keep Chuck
from using it for bottle storage.
    I hadn’t seen Hunter yet, but
like I said, I only arrived last night. I probably wouldn’t see
him for quite awhile anyway: I had research to do, and the last terse
e-mail he sent me said he was busy sorting out production problems
with the distillery, something about the recipe being off in the last
batch, potentially a problem with carelessness, dissatisfied labor,
or even industrial sabotage. He certainly didn’t have time for
anything as unimportant as settling me into my current digs.
    I definitely wasn’t disappointed
or anything. Nope.
    And I was totally not freaking
out about what I was wearing because we had sort of kind of a little
bit slept together.
    I just wanted to look professional, and
not die of heat at the same time.
    And of course I didn’t want to
remind him of what had happened that night, but if I just happened to
pick an outfit in which my legs looked particularly stunning...
    No. No . No! I was here to work.
That was all.
    I settled on a light cotton floral
skirt that swirled modestly around my knees and a sleeveless blue
blouse, and then had a quick cup of coffee in my guesthouse’s
mini-kitchen. Afterward, my brain finally starting to function
properly, I squared my shoulders, grabbed my briefcase, and set out
to find the library.
    Just stepping out of the guesthouse
took my breath away. The sun glowed golden over the rolling green
fields, sheltered at their edges by oaks and willows hung with
curtains of Spanish moss, and a stream gurgled blue and pristine
along the western edge, its banks dotted with pink and purple
flowers.
    The main house rose like a triumphant
monument at the very center, circled by lilac and honeysuckle whose
heady scent swam through the thick, humid air. My own guesthouse was
bedecked with climbing morning glories in pale violet, and the others
next to me were garlanded with rows of sunflowers. Just behind them I
could see the stables, hear the horses whinnying as grain flowed into
their troughs.
    And to the east—a lake,
glimmering like liquid sapphire, and on the horizon the edges of the
distillery barns and sheds for the production of the famous bourbon.
The wind shifted, and a scent of burnt caramel drifted across the
air, sweet and sharp and full of promise. It was like I’d
actually walked right into a dream.
    The sky was the purest blue I had ever
seen, and through my daze I found my arm raising to snap a picture
with my cell phone. If Sandra could recreate that color I would
barely need to write any copy. That shade of blue could sell
refrigerators to the Inuit.
    The beauty of the estate so gobsmacked
me that I couldn’t decide what to do first. I’d intended
to visit the library this morning—if I could find it—but
I rebelled at the thought of spending time indoors on such a lovely
day. Hadn’t I just said that the name of the game was
immersion?
    It was time to explore.
     
    #
     
    After spending an hour splashing my
feet in the stream and meeting all of the horses—the grooms
were a little hesitant to let me visit with them, but were won over
after their most cantankerous stallion took sugar lumps from my
hand—I convinced myself to get back on track and trotted
quickly over to the blessedly air-conditioned manor to return to my
original quest: the library.
    It ended up being a pretty long quest,
since the manor house ended up being larger than some Eastern
European countries.
    I didn’t mind, though, because it
was also absolutely breathtaking. My mom might put on airs about our
heritage, but even with all her efforts, our house could never have
dreamed of this opulence: crystal chandeliers, Persian carpets so
lush my feet almost disappeared