Page 74 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

The thought of Damian with his tall, slender, auburn-haired doctor ex makes my heart hurt.

“Bella,” Fizzy says, “We have been friends for how long?”

“Twenty-four years. Soon to be twenty-five.”

“That’s a quarter century. Do you trust me?”

“Yes…”

“Then trust me when I say you have to be at the museum opening. Back out of those waitressing shifts. Clear your schedule. Figure out a way to get to Silver Springs, even if it requires moving a mountain to do so. Because believe me when I say that this is important.”

In the apartment, the barking escalates to a chorus of high-pitched sounds that include Bo’s plaintive ‘ I’m-being-snapped-at-by-a-bossy-Chihuahua’ howls. The fact that I know that sound says a little something about the state of my life.

Feeling hopeless, I haul myself to my feet. It’s hard to appreciate the mysterious invitation Fizzy’s just given me, while I’m dealing with so many distractions.

“Okay, I’ll make it happen. I’ll be there,” I promise glumly, as I push open the apartment door.

I get off the phone and slide it into my pocket in time to catch hold of Sasha and scoop her up before she manages to catch onto the end of Bo’s tail. “That’s it, you two,” I whisper to the warring dogs. “Let’s take this party outside so Marion can sleep.”

And then, more invoices. Hooray.

Chapter 25

Damian

Everyone’s here.

Everyone except the one person I want most to see.

Art critics and reporters from as far as Philadelphia meander the space, peering thoughtfully through expensive and stylish glasses while nibbling sliced cheese or sipping champagne. There are even a few journalists I didn’t invite or expect. Word of this museum opening traveled; it seems.

Plenty of big names from the art scene in the city are here, too. I’ve spoken with, and been congratulated by, a handful of famous painters and sculptors.

My family members are all here, and my father’s even been respectful enough to look up from his phone now and then. Addison’s in attendance as well, though not as my date. I came to my senses and nipped that in the bud, thank goodness.

There are also many locals milling about.

The expensive space is brimming with bodies. Though I should feel pleased at the massive turnout, I don’t. I don’t care that all these people are here, congratulating me and admiringmy collection. This evening won’t really be a success unless Bella shows up. Fizzy seems to think she will. We’ve talked quite a bit, these past few weeks. He’s filled me in on all the details about Bella’s past that I couldn’t glean from his many blog articles. I now know that her family left Silver Springs because of things my own grandparents said and did.

Tonight, if she shows up, I’ll make it up to her. I’ll right the wrongs my family made.

I reach into my pocket and feel the small velvet box stashed there.

I’ve managed to get away from the press for a moment, and I’m standing in the corner of the room near a window that looks down on North Street.

On the sidewalks below, Founders Fest is in full swing. As usual, several streets in town have been closed off to traffic, and North Street is included. White tents form a parade down the center of the road, and the pavement surrounding them is swarming with festival-goers. I watch the tops of their heads move from one booth to the next, under the zig-zagging colorful lights.

Will I be able to spot Bella’s dark hair from all the way up here?

Will she even come? She might not.

Now that it’s been three full hours since I opened the doors to the public and she still hasn’t shown up, I’m starting to give up hope.

A light touch on my elbow suddenly makes me aware that I have other responsibilities tonight besides watching out for Bella like a hawk.

“Any sign of her?” Maxine Finch asks, as she joins me at my perch and looks down to the sidewalk.

“Not yet.”

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