Kane (BBW Billionaire Romance) by Christa Wick Read Free Book Online

overhead light for the larger sink and ran some warm water to rinse out the bottle.
    In small stages, she realized she wasn’t alone in the room. He didn’t make a sound, not even his breathing, but she knew Kane was still in the kitchen, sitting on the same stool where she had left him. Cutting off the water, she placed the bottle in the strainer and slowly turned to face him.
    “I apologize,” she started, throat constricting around the words. He made her feel so strange, like she had both every right and no right at all to be mad at him.
    “It was rude what I said this morning,” she continued. “But it was how I felt—how I still feel. I’m going to find a place for tomorrow—I mean today, I guess. Then, if it’s okay with you, Christine and I will move into the bungalow on Monday as planned.”
    He shot her plan down with one of those dismissive lifts of his finger.
    “If my presence is making you uncomfortable, I’ll go to a hotel.”
    His unexpected response drew her closer to the island, the light above the sink illuminating his features. She had encountered plenty of males in real life that she would call “good looking,” but she had never met one who looked like he belonged in a magazine ad, a Hollywood set or on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
    Kane possessed that kind of breathtaking appearance with his jet black hair just long enough to grab hold of, the heavy, almost ominous brow, and the angular jaw line veiled by its immaculately trimmed beard. The head was perfectly proportioned to the muscular body. He had a strong nose, strong cheekbones—strong everything.
    Realizing how long she had been staring at him, she shook her head. “I’m not chasing you out of your home, Mr. Kane.”
    “It’s Trent,” he corrected, his voice low and deep, the words unnaturally elongated from how he regularly talked. “And this isn’t my home. It’s where I keep my things.”
    The weary response saddened Daniella. The man could live in practically any home he wanted to with all the resources at his disposal, but the place he had chosen was just a shell for his possessions.
    Chewing at her lip, she remembered something Reed had said earlier—a sort of joke he had made.
    “You didn’t like it when Mr. Henley said it was like Hades lived here.”
    There was a slight lift of his shoulders. She would have called it a shrug but she wasn’t sure if Kane was capable of making the gesture. He seemed so erect and blunt.
    “It’s my operations name, which I’ll have to change now.”
    “I’m not going to tell anyone,” she whisper-promised.
    This time, when the shoulders lifted a micrometer, there was no doubt in Daniella’s mind that the man had shrugged. Noting that his expressions and gestures were quite subtle sometimes, she wondered which were the real responses and which were fake. That first day in his office, he had thrown up his hands, broadly swept them along his desk. Tonight, he was giving her the faintest of finger and shoulder lifts. At breakfast, he had been a stone wall once he pushed a plate in her direction.
    Swallowing down the question, she moved even closer to Kane. When he had entered the kitchen while she prepared Christine’s bottle, she hadn’t noted how he was dressed, only that he was covered from ankle to collarbone. Now she could see he had on black pajama pants and a matching top that he hadn’t buttoned, the sliver of exposed flesh an olive-gold. She might have guessed that he had traces of First Nation blood in his veins, but his operations name made her think of a Mediterranean background.
    “He was a lonely god if I remember my Greek mythology,” she said, her voice not much louder than her earlier whisper. “A warden of ghosts, really.”
    Yes, that summed Trent Kane up perfectly, she thought, once more on the verge of tears from being in his presence. What was wrong with this beautiful man? At first she had thought he was reacting to her, that she was too poor,