The Billionaire's Son. Sharon HartleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
you please hand me the robe?” she asked.
“Robe?” Wentworth appeared dazed. How much booze had he enjoyed at his little shindig?
“Behind you on the lounge chair,” she said. “If I come close to grab it, I’ll drip all over you.”
He hesitated, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. What was he thinking?
Finally, Wentworth reached behind him, grabbed the white terrycloth, then rose and carried it to her.
“Thanks.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
She took the robe from his hands, covered herself and tied the waist with a quick jerk. Wentworth returned to his seat and this time lifted his legs and leaned against the back. He continued to gaze at her as he took a sip of whatever was in his glass.
Still wary, but more at ease now that her boobs weren’t staring him in the face, she used the hood of the robe to squeeze water from her hair. She ought to go to her room, but curiosity about wherever he’d gone held her in place.
“You must have gone to some fancy soiree tonight.”
His dark eyes stared at her. “A benefit for—what was it?” He shrugged. “Alzheimer’s I believe was the disease of the night.”
“You’re home early,” she said. “Boring party?”
“You have no idea.”
His tone irritated her. Like she had no clue what a black-tie party for the super-rich would be like. He was right, of course, but the jerk didn’t need to rub it in.
“You don’t think I should have gone out,” he stated.
“None of my business,” she said.
“Believe me, I didn’t want to go. I hated to leave Jason.”
“So why did you?”
“I’d committed months ago. Tickets were sold based on my appearance.”
“Your son getting kidnapped seems a good enough excuse.”
“Yeah, you’d think so,” Wentworth murmured. “The old man disagreed.”
He looked away, gazing over the pool. Who the hell was the old man? Probably his father.
Wentworth’s expression was so mournful she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. At least he had a father to be mad at. She never even knew who hers was.
“Jase was asleep when I checked. Did he wake up while I was gone?” Wentworth asked.
“No,” Kelly said. “I checked on him a couple of times and he was snoozing away.”
Wentworth returned his focus to her. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
This was her opportunity to leave. But she had questions, lots of them. And Wentworth seemed to be talkative for the first time, probably because of the booze. So she sat on the lounge chair next to his.
“How long ago did Jason’s mother die?”
“Six months. Car crash. She died instantly.”
Kelly sucked in a breath at his blunt reply. “I’m sorry. I know it’s rough when death comes unexpectedly.”
Wentworth gazed over the pool again. “Jason was in the car with her. He survived even though she didn’t bother to strap him into his car seat.”
Kelly’s sympathy for the dead mother dwindled at that bit of news. How the hell do you respond to such negligence?
“She was drunk,” he said. “Never felt a thing.”
Kelly smothered the curse that rose to her lips. This was Wentworth’s beloved dead wife, after all, mother of his child. Better tread carefully. “Was Jason badly hurt?”
“Head trauma.” Wentworth gazed at her again. “Which could partly explain his confusion about you. We’d been divorced for over a year and shared custody.”
“I’m sorry.” Uncomfortable with his frank revelations, Kelly wanted to get out of here. This was definitely none of her business. “I don’t mean to be intrusive. It’s just—”
“The whole messy story was all over the tabloids,” Wentworth said. “I’m surprised you don’t know the sordid details.”
“I’m not much of a tabloid fan,” she said.
He nodded and took another sip of booze. She could smell the strong fumes. Time to get out of here. History had taught her being around men that were too drunk could lead to big trouble.
She rose. “Well, roll call comes early. I’d better get some sleep. Thanks for letting me use your pool.”
“Anytime,” he said, gazing off into space again.
Kelly sensed his thoughts were far away from her now. No doubt on the dead wife. She shouldn’t have asked. For the hundredth time she reminded herself the problems of the rich and famous had nothing to do with her.
She was out of here first thing in the morning. She’d arranged for Hans to drive her home at 7:00 a.m. Plenty of time to dress and make her 10:00 a.m. roll call. Maria promised breakfast would be laid out at six.
One thing for sure, people definitely ate well in Wentworth Villa.
She shivered when she entered the air-conditioned house and hurried up the stairs. The door to Jason’s room stood ajar, which halted her steps. She’d closed it when she peeked in on her way down to the pool,
But maybe Wentworth left it open when he’d checked on his son. Or maybe not. She glanced around uneasily.
No question about the fact that someone had helped the kidnappers get to Jason. Could that someone be a member of Wentworth’s staff?
Kelly edged open the door. Jason snored softly in the glow of his night light. Shaking her head, she eased the door shut and continued to her room. She’d mention her worries to Ballard, but right now a warm shower awaited and a hopefully soft bed after that.
And then she was so out of fantasyville.
What if Jason woke up still insisting she was his mom? She didn’t want to go through another hysterical scene with the kid. He’d been through enough already.
But no matter what happened with the little dude, she would be at roll call. Nothing Wentworth said could make her miss another shift.
KELLY DIDN’T HAVE any trouble finding the dining room when she descended the stairs at 6:00 a.m. All she had to do was follow the scent of bacon and freshly baked bread.
She took a deep breath. Yes, and there it was. Strong hot coffee.
Hurrying toward the lure of caffeine, she resisted the urge to rearrange the underwear Wentworth had provided. Damn, but these fancy thong panties were uncomfortable. Why did women wear them? There were some places that lace just shouldn’t go.
For sure she couldn’t work wearing this nonsense. She’d change as soon as she got home.
Kelly spotted Maria in the living room, but the housekeeper didn’t notice her. She was too busy struggling to open a container of what looked like prescription meds. But who didn’t have trouble with that childproof packaging?
Greta waited inside the dining room where, as promised, a buffet of hot and cold breakfast goodies awaited. This place was like a hotel.
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