Page 75 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

“If she’s traveling in from the city, she may have gotten caught up in that road construction on Route Two. I myself had a half-hour delay.”

“I don’t know…” I spot a dark ponytail below and my heart lurches, but it’s not her. It’s a much older woman, hurrying up to the cotton candy booth. I frown as the woman hands over cash and receives a paper cone of pink fluff.

With Maxine beside me, I can’t help but think of the day she arrived at my house.

It was weeks ago. Shortly after Bella left. I knew who she was immediately when I opened the door. Her gallery in Manhattan is among the most prestigious in the world.

When she said she was there to see Bella’s recent painting for herself, I was surprised, to say the least.

She explained that Bella had called her to say that the piece was “an unfinished disaster” not appropriate for putting on display, but that she wanted to be the judge of that for herself. And when I led her to the billiards room and showed her the work of art, she stared in silence for a full ten minutes before pronouncing:“It’s genius. I love it.”

After that, we had a long discussion.

I learned about her interest in Bella’s work. And slowly, I started to see the summer from Bella’s perspective. Bella accepted work from me because she needed to paint. No, she didn’t paint what I wanted her to—but how could I blame her? She did exactly what any brilliant artist would do and painted in her own style.

Maxine’s awe for Bella’s most recent painting made me see it differently, too.

It wasn’t what I expected.

It wasn’t what I paid for.

It wasn’t abstract, and it didn’t feature clean lines or geometric shapes.

But it was good.

Really, really good. Full of life, passion, and raw emotion. The swirling purple-blue sky seemed to come alive the more I looked at it. The falling star streaking through that swirling sky actually appeared to move sometimes; just as the Mona Lisa’s eyes could track viewers across a room.

And the best part of the painting—in Maxine’s opinion and in mine, probably for very different reasons—was the two figure-shaped imprints in the middle. They faced one another. Mirror images, bowing toward one another, surrounded by beautiful scenery. Maxine came up with the name “Kiss Under a Falling Star,” and I immediately approved. She thinks the piece will be worth millions on the market one day. I’m not sure, though, that I’ll ever want to sell it.

She’s already asked me if I might loan it out to her this October. Of course, I will, if Bella wants me to.

So much hinges on Bella.

But she’s not here, and I’m starting to think that her absence means she wants nothing to do with me, my museum, or this work of genius that she created.

Maxine, at my side, breaks our long mutual silence with a sigh. “Well, Damian, let’s not give up on her yet. For my part, I’m still holding out hope that she’ll make it. Have you spoken to Elenore, yet? I was just talking with her, over by that delightful Pollack you nestled in so neatly. She has questions for you, about Bella’s piece.”

“I’d really rather she talk to Bella.”

“I know, of course. But Bella’s not here and take it from me—the press is here for a purpose, and they’ll get antsy if they feel you’re not meeting their needs. I think it would be best for you to at least try to answer some of her questions. Give her a quote or two; that will satisfy her. And I’m sure she’ll want a photo of you, next to the piece.”

Maxine’s right. I should talk to Elenore.

I turn and scan the room, looking for the platinum-haired journalist fromModern Art Today. As my gaze sweeps past various sculptures and paintings, and then finally to the Jackson Pollack piece across the room, I feel my heartbeat quicken.

I saw something…

What?

I move my attention back to the doorway. Yes—there’s movement, over by the door. A dog, barely visible behind the legs of the people gathered near the refreshments, is poking his nose around the doorframe. That little black nose… that patchy, gray, white, and brown fur. Bo! My heart swells with happiness.

He trots forward a few steps and swivels his head around as if he’s searching. When he spots me, his tail starts whipping through the air, back and forth. He runs toward me, weaving between the people in his way as though he’s completing an obstacle race.

My heart soars as I watch him skirt around a pedestal containing one of my prized metal sculptures. It's incredible to see this furry creature bounding toward me. It’s even more incredible to know that if Bo is here, that means Bella is not far away.

I squat down and open my arms. Bo barrels into me, his tail wagging so fast I can feel a breeze from it. As he licks my face, I manage to look up across the room.

There she is. Bella steps into the doorway.

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