Page 132 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

“Good. I can’t wait to meet him.”

I wondered how an introduction like that would go. Dad didn’t often remember the people he met anymore, but even so, I was excited for Duncan to meet him, too.

“I wish you could have known him before,” I muttered. “You would have loved his fascination with history.”

“Yeah?” Duncan peered over his shoulder. He then dug his phone from his pocket and spoke a voice command:

“We’re on our way out. Can you bring the car around?”

“Clive?” I said, voicing my assumption.

“Yeah,” Duncan said. His steps slowed as he read what must have been Clive’s response. “He’s pretty good about hanging outin parking lots or busying himself around town. Sounds like he’s making his way out of the museum now.”

“Oh, I hate to make him leave,” I said. “Tell him it’s okay. We can wander around too until he’s done.”

Amusement gleamed in his eyes. “I would any other time. But we have our flight, remember? Going home.”

“Going home,” I repeated, loving the words.

Duncan’s home had been all kinds of comfortable, but there was nothing quite like sleeping in your own bed and in your own space. I had to say, I wouldn’t mind traveling with Duncan this time. Sharing a backseat and the entire back of his private jet was about to get interesting.

Together, we traipsed toward the end of the long, curved hallway and turned toward the lobby. People milled about, standing in lines at the registration desk or staring at posters announcing the museum’s upcoming events.

“There, we should be set,” Duncan said. “Clive said he doesn’t mind coming out now. He said art isn’t really his scene.”

“So we’re doing him a favor by leaving early?”

“You got it.” Just as Duncan began to pocket his phone, a call buzzed, and from the expression on his face, I could tell it wasn’t one he was eager to take.

“Who is it?” I asked.

He rubbed a hand across his jaw. “It’s my mom.”

“What are you going to do?”

He glanced around the lobby as if weighing his options. “Clive is on his way out any second. Do you want to wait here for him? There are plenty of people around—you should be fine.”

“I’ll be fine regardless,” I assured him. “Go ahead—take the call.”

“You don’t mind?”

I shook my head. “No, you should talk to her—if it’s something you want.”

“Better take it all now than later,” he grumbled. He tilted in and pressed his nose to my hair. “Stay close. I don’t want you to have to put up with any more of her crap, so I’ll just be a minute. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “But I’m fine?—”

He pressed a kiss to my cheek and then answered. “You have some nerve…” he said before stalking off to the other end of the lobby.

I meandered, wishing I could go back into the main part of the museum. Duncan’s low voice reverberated. I heard snippets of his conversation.

“She didn’t deserve…I don’t care…She’s the better person, Mom…”

I meandered around the lobby, staring at the marble in the walls and the unique metal piece of artwork that was visible through the main window. I cursed the fact that this dress had no pockets. I’d left my phone in the car since I didn’t want to carry a purse, either.

Sarah had seemed excited enough when I’d told her I was coming home. It would be a good chance to meet each of Dad’s nurses in person.

“Excuse me,” a voice said.

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