Page 45 of Taming the Elusive Billionaire

Mom shook her head and folded her arms, “You really are going to ask of her first and not the portrait of me. Typical men’s behavior.”

I sighed, rubbed my forehead, and faced Ella. “So where are both of them, the portrait and your friend?”

Ella sneered and looked away, “She’s fine, been sleeping like a log of wood since she finished with the drawing, and the portrait is in Mom’s room.”

“Do get them, please.”

“Them?”

“Is there anything wrong with seeing art and the artist? And hell, I want to know what she’s been up to the last couple of weeks.”

“Didn’t you hear when I said she was drawing?”

“I don’t care, no I am . . .”

“Take me to wherever she is, then.”

The word felt like a bomb just dropped off.

Both Ella and Mom looked at me, surprised.

“You really haven’t seen her since?” Mom finally asked.

I shook my head and folded my arm, “Right from the day I returned from the trip to Tennessee.”

“Really? That was a while ago. When was it? One week, no should be just after the party, which was two weeks ago.”

“You have that correct again, Mom.”

“Seems she’s avoiding you. Did you do something bad to her?”

“I have been nothing but a kind gentleman to everyone around me, and you know that, Mom.”

“I know, my dear, but since she’s sleeping, how about we go and look at the portrait, and of course, maybe on our way out, we can look in her room to see if she is awake.”

I nodded, clapped, and stood, “Seems like a perfect idea.”

“Don’t you have anything more important to do or a place to be, you know, being the boss and all that?” Ella asked.

“Is there any reason you don’t want me to see your friend?”

“Not actually a reason if you say it that way. But anyways, if you want to see her, no problem.”

“I think that settles it,” I turned toward Mom, who was standing now.

Mom turned and walked out of the door. “Come on, Mason, I think you will love it, I have been dying to send it to you, but I wanted you to see it for yourself.”

We moved through the hallway, with Ella following along.

Mom reached towards her suite, turned to her left, and paused, “Are you ready to witness the most beautiful portrait you have ever seen?”

“Yeah,” I lied, scratching my jaw. I wasn’t interested in the portrait. Seeing Lucy was the most important, but I had to play the part.

Giggling like a ten-year-old, Mom opened the door to her room. “Here we are.” Mom brought me in while rubbing her palms together, “There it is.”

I frowned as I gazed across the room, “Where?”

“Here,” Mom said, pointing toward the portrait while Ella giggled beside her.

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