Page 56 of The Billionaire's Promise

I guess while Holden had been happy to hook up with the girls he met at the club, that wasn't what he wanted long-term. He looked completely satisfied with his life, his arm around Jo and a smile in his dark eyes.

Charlotte poked her head in the living room, still wearing the suit she'd worn to work. She gave us a wave and said, "I'll be right back."

She returned five minutes later in jeans and an Emory T-shirt, her hair in a messy ponytail, her face cleaned of makeup. Like that, she looked about fifteen, except for the circles under her eyes and the pallor to her skin. Heading straight for Abigail and Jacob, she scooped up Rosie before Abigail could protest.

Jacob leaned down to whisper something in Abigail's ear that brought a pretty pink flush to her cheeks. It was both sweet and bizarre to see him so gentle and affectionate with Abigail. I'd sat in on investor meetings with Jacob, and while I liked him, he was a little scary. Not with Abigail. With her, he was a completely different man.

Charlotte only got a few minutes to blow kisses on Rosie's cheek before Mrs. Williamson, the Winters family housekeeper, announced that dinner was served. Now in her forties, Mrs. Williamson had come to the house as a maid when she was only eighteen, not long before Vance's parents had died.

With the house mostly empty these days, Aiden and Charlotte didn't need much staff, but Mrs. Williamson was more than staff. She was family. And even with fewer residents, the house and grounds still needed full-time management.

We were all casual, but the only place a group this large would fit was the formal dining room, and we followed Mrs. Williamson down the hall. The table was long enough to fit twice our number. She'd seated us at one end, close to the fireplace. Despite its size, the fire and the polished wood furnishings made the room cozy.

I started to look for the baby carrier, thinking I'd give Rosie a bottle and hopefully she'd fall asleep while we ate, but Mrs. Williamson appeared at my side, took Rosie from Charlie, and said, "Don't worry, I've got this one. It's been way too long since we've had a baby in the house."

Charlotte sat beside me, Vance on the other side. I scooted my chair closer to Charlie's and whispered, "You look tired. Are you okay?"

"Yes, and ditto. Rosie keeping you up? Or something else?"

Charlotte could see right through me, but I wasn't going to talk about any of the doubts plaguing my mind at the Winters family dining table. Not with Vance sitting beside me. I had to work this out on my own.

"I'm fine," I said. "I just couldn't fall asleep last night after I got up to feed Rosie, and I'm worn out, that's all. What’s going on with you?"

"Nothing," Charlie whispered back. I didn't call her a liar out loud, but I knew she could see it in my eyes. She let out a sigh and said, "That house I showed you? It's under contract."

"Oh, that stinks. Is that what's bothering you?" I asked.

Charlie shrugged one shoulder and didn't meet my eyes. "Not all of it," she said. "But a lot of it, yeah. I guess I didn't realize how much I wanted the house until it was gone."

"The house or the lawnmower hottie next door?" I teased, nudging the side of her chair. A light flush brought color to her cheeks, and she shook her head, her ponytail swinging from side to side. I said, "I think it's the hottie as much as the house."

Charlotte's cheeks turned even pinker. "It's not the hottie," she protested. "I really liked that house."

"Then call the agent," I said. "Just because it's under contract, it doesn't mean it sold. A lot of stuff could go wrong. You never know."

"Maybe," Charlotte said.

"Do it," I urged. "Just in case. Now that you know, really know, that you want it, it'll make you feel better if you at least make a phone call."

"I'll do it tomorrow," she promised. The cook, who I'd never met personally but who Charlotte said was amazing, served us herself. I had to agree with Charlotte's assessment. Her food was spectacular. Herb roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and chocolate cake for dessert.

It was comfort food, not gourmet, but every bite was perfection. I'd forgotten what it was like to eat a dinner I hadn't cooked without rushing to finish before Rosie needed one of us.

By the time I took the last bite of chocolate cake, I was stuffed full, almost woozy with satiation.

I drank a glass of wine with dinner, and the wine combined with the food had me almost asleep on the short drive home. Vance's aggravated voice brought me back to full consciousness.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Vance said, smacking his hand on the steering wheel for emphasis. I looked up and noticed with dismay that Brayden's luxury sedan was parked in front of the door. What the hell did he want with me?

"He's been calling me all day," I said without thinking. At the dark expression on Vance's face, I wished I'd kept my mouth shut. He looked like he wanted to beat Brayden to a pulp, and Brayden was absolutely the kind of guy who would press charges.

"Stay in the car," Vance ordered.

"No way," I said, undoing my seatbelt and jumping out as soon as the car came to a halt. I was around the hood and facing off with Brayden a second later, Vance right behind me. He put one hand on my shoulder, but he didn't try to move me. "Do you want me to call the police?" I said to Brayden. "Because I think I was very clear the last time you came to my house that if I saw you here again, I would call the police."

"Magnolia—" Brayden started. I was in no mood to listen.

"You don't have any right to be here. There's nothing of yours in the house, and you don't live here anymore. Go. Away."