Page 68 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

I fell asleep sometime around 3:00 and didn’t wake up until an hour ago. And now here it is, midmorning, and I’m staring at the room Bella vacated, holding this note that seems like it must be about more than refunding a commission.

Because… what aboutus? Me and Bella? Where does this leave us? I drag my phone out of my pocket and pull up her number. I could call her to ask. But I’m not sure I want to hear her answer. She might say that it’s over, and what then? Do Iwantit to be over? This is all happening very fast. I’ve broken up with women before, pushed them away, and ended relationships. I’ve never had someone else end a relationship with me. But this note in my hands, feels like a breakup note. It doesn’t say anything about a breakup—not outright, anyway. But that’s how Bella is. She talks in circles around things instead of addressing issues head-on.

I run my palm over my face and blow out a hot, angry breath.

When movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention, I feel hope stir in my chest.She’s back.But I look over toward the windows by the lower entrance and see my mother's silver coupe pull in and park. There she is in the driver’s seat, and—can this day get any worse?—she has Addison with her.

I hike up the stairs. They’re going to let themselves in, and I’d rather they didn’t find me down here, on the floor Bella inhabited so recently, with her painting right there for them to pick apart like vultures.

When I open the door to them, it’s a struggle to maintain my composure. “Mother. Addison. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We’re here to check in on you, darling,” my mother says. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

My world has been turned upside down, but manners are so drilled into me that I can’t even manage to let my own mother know how upset I really feel.

She sees past my one-word response, though. As she slides past me, with Addison on her heels, she makes a ‘tsk tsk’ sound with her tongue.

“Now, now, Damian, don’t shut us out like that. Addison and I are here because we care about you, and we know you’renotfine. It’s all over town—that Bella left you.”

Addison sounds far too happy as she adds, “Flora served her a coffee at six-thirty this morning, and told everyone that Bella had puffy, red eyes, like she’d been up crying all night. She said Bella was heading back to the city. Your little fugitive girlfriend couldn’t handle small town life, I suppose? It’s not for everyone.”

“Especially not for those who tend toward unlawful shenanigans,” my mother adds. “Those types of people fare much better in the city, where they can be anonymous and get away with scams of one sort or another. Scam artists thrive when there are people about who don’t already know of their reputations. Fresh meat, as the saying goes.”

“Bella isn’t a scam artist. She—”

Addison cuts me off. “Pumpkin, you don’t have to feel bad for falling for her act. We all did. We all thought she was so sweet and lovely. I, for one, had a wonderful time getting to know her at that charming dinner we all shared last week. She had usallfooled. Now that she’s gone, we can be thankful.”

“Exactly,” my mother says with a nod, as she places her Prada purse on my glass coffee table, and then smooths the backside of her slacks before sitting on my couch. “We can be thankful.” She nods toward Addison. “Well said, dear. And, Damian, you really don’t have to be so hard on yourself. Now, I did warn you—but that’s neither here nor there.”

Addison breezes past me, so close that I’m given a noseful of her cloying perfume. She’s heading for the couch, it seems, but she lingers by my side and pinches her brows together as she examines me. “You look exhausted. Just look at those dark circles under your eyes! Nora, look.” She gestures toward my face.

“I took note of that right away when we arrived,” my mother says, from her perch. “He looks awful. Absolutely awful. “

“Are you feeling sick?” Addison asks. She places the back of her hand against my forehead. “You don’t feel hot…”

I step back. “I’m not sick. I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, and it’s been a rough morning so far.”

“Well, we’re here for you,” my mother says. “Aren’t we, Addison?”

As she says Addison’s name, she delivers a meaningful look my way. I understand what she’s telling me. Bella’s gone, and as promised, ‘stable’ Addison is right where she’s supposed to be: waiting in the wings.

“And I appreciate that,” I grumble. There are those manners, kicking in again. “I do. Really. But right now, I think I need to be alone.”

My mother stands. “Of course. I thought you might say that, and yet, I wanted to be sure we stopped by anyway.” She glides up to me and pinches my cheek. “ So, you know who’s on your side.”

I nod. Maybe if I let her know that I’m picking up on her meaning, she’ll let me have some peace. I have a lot to figure out.

I’ve been emailing various members of the press for months, building up momentum for the museum opening, which is scheduled for the end of August. Now that I won’t have a new, never-before-seen work of abstract art to unveil, I’ll need to update them.

Then there are all the press releases I had my assistant draft. Those will need to be revised. Plus, countless other details about the opening that will need to be adjusted and tweaked.

Most of all, I need to try to process the fact that Bella left without saying goodbye.

“Now, before we go, I should remind you,” my mother says, as she releases her hold on my cheek. “Golf. Sunday. Has your father asked you?”

“I think he called, but I’ve been busy.”

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