The Artist and His Billionaire

by CJ Turner

  The Artist and His Billionaire

  CJ Turner

  Copyright © 2020 by CJ Turner

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the copyright holder, except in case of brief quotations and within critical reviews and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Spoiler Alert:

  Lennox

  Theo

  Lennox

  Theo

  Lennox

  Theo

  Lennox

  Theo

  Lennox

  Theo

  Epilogue

  Bonus Epilogue

  Message from CJ

  Sneak Peek

  Also by CJ Turner

  Spoiler Alert:

  “The Artist and His Billionaire” has a BONUS second epilogue available for free.

  Simply go to this link ( https://bit.ly/34Zf9tQ ) and the second epilogue will be emailed to you.

  The BONUS second epilogue contains spoilers.

  Chapter One

  Lennox

  “Lenny,” called Mrs. Pearson up the stairwell.

  Please, don’t call me ‘Lenny,’ Lennox thought. He ignored the level-ten stridency in Mrs. Pearson’s voice that indicated distress he must deal with. Lennox took a deep breath and reminded himself of the gratitude he felt for Mrs. Pearson, lending him his studio slash apartment.

  Just please give me a few more minutes.

  The intense midmorning sun moved an inch to cast a sword of light on his mattress on the floor to the wall at the head. Lennox needed to capture it as it fell on the form on the bed. In his mind’s eye, a gorgeous man with washboard abs and definition to his muscles lay there. Lennox had put too many highlights in the original painting, and it washed out the figure. Sweat broke out on Lennox’s brow as he worked to correct this deficit. If he didn’t get it done now, he must wait until tomorrow.

  “Lenny!” called his landlady. Her tone now called extra sharp, and Lennox almost dropped his brush to his palate in annoyance but restrained the urge. Lennox couldn’t paint like this.

  He huffed in frustration and admitted defeat, then dropped the brush in the turpentine jar.

  “Bonkers,” he called. The mass on the bed stirred and perked up his head and shook the sleep from his liquid umber eyes.

  “Time to go to work.”

  The tan and white pug yawned as if the prospect bored him. Lennox also found staffing Mrs. Pearson’s flower shop tiresome, but he understood that she couldn’t afford regular help.

  “Coming, Mrs. Pearson,” he called. “Bonkers wants his cookie.”

  Lennox reached into the nearly bare cupboards and pulled down the doggie cookie bag and frowned. One left. He snapped it in two and handed one piece to Bonkers, who gobbled it as if the chubby thing missed a dozen meals. After wolfing it down, Bonkers looked up expectantly for the other chunk.

  “Sorry, buddy, we’re a little short this week. Damn cell phone company demanded its pound of flesh, and I had to carve it from somewhere.”

  Bonkers gave out a doggy whine letting Lennox know he wasn’t pleased, but he’d live with it. As Lennox grabbed his cell phone from the counter by the sink, he noticed faint red and blue paint splatters from his cleanup the day before. Lennox pulled the cleanser from under the sink and sprinkled it on the enamel. He may be an artist, but he wasn’t a pig.

  Lennox followed as Bonkers’ nails tapped against the ancient oak staircase of the nineteenth-century building to meet his landlady. Mrs. Pearson stood at the bottom of the stairs with an expectant expression.

  Mrs. Pearson, for her sixty-something years, wasn’t your typical oldster. While she had a few extra pounds that she blamed on her heart medicine, she kept up her chestnut hair color. The elderly florist remained spry and worked full days in the shop. Some days she surprised Lennox with behavior he didn’t expect from a woman of her years—like the day he found her toking on a joint while putting together flower arrangements.

  But lately, she looked more tired, which Lennox ascribed to her worrying about the store finances.

  Mrs. Pearson smiled when she spotted him.

  “Thank you, Lenny. I know it isn’t your day like we agreed. I cannot figure out how I got the doctor’s appointment mixed up.”

  “Oh, I don’t fault you. I blame that no-good grandson of yours for abandoning you and traipsing across Europe.”

  Mrs. Pearson rolled her eyes. “You only live once, Lenny. Something you should do.”

  “Is that your Uber I see in the street?” he said. Lennox would not get into this conversation now. She meant well, but Lennox had one goal—to get his work accepted in the Fairfax Artist’s Show. It was a juried competition with modest prizes. But it also drew agents from New York, and he could use one.

  “You can’t see the street from here, Lenny.”

  “I see it with my inscrutable psychic powers,” he said with a teasing grin.

  “You and my grandson are two of a kind.”

  Uh, oh. Time for another deflection.

  “Don’t worry about the store, Mrs. Pearson. Is there anything you want me to do?”

  “Yes, if you can use those inscrutable psychic powers to get us a big order, I’d appreciate it. Since Christi’s opened down the street, the little hussy stole a good chunk from my business.”

  Lennox knew this, and he felt terrible for Mrs. Pearson, but there wasn’t much he could do for her. She should have sold the shop and the building several years ago before the competition moved in. Now Mrs. Pearson couldn’t get the store’s former worth.

  Don’t go there, Lennox. You need not worry about your landlady. She has family members to do that for her.

  Still, a knot formed in his throat at the memories that made his grandmother’s final years unnecessarily difficult.

  He shook his head as he watched Mrs. Pearson walk into the workroom. Bonkers looked up at him waiting for Lennox to do the same.

  The aroma of flowers Mrs. Pearson left on the extended bench as well as potting soil mingled in the workroom. He also thought of it as a single scent, verdant with the promise of growth and life. In Lennox’s mind, that particular odor was green if color had a smell.

  “You were right, Lenny. There’s the car now. Later.” The bell at the store’s entrance rang as she left, and the front door banged shut. Damn it. He thought he fixed that automatic door closer.

  What the hell are you supposed to do? The thing is a hundred years old.

  He’d tighten the hinge again, but the truth was Mrs. Pearson had to break down and buy a new one.

  Lennox rummaged through the tool drawer at the workshop bench looking for the Phillips head screwdriver and nicked his finger on a box cutter.

  Fabulous. Let’s start the day with a nice case of lockjaw.

  “Ouch,” he said reflexively. But Bonkers, the traitor, didn’t bother to pay attention. As if of utmost importance, the dog trotted into the shop. Lennox leaned from the counter to peer into the store and found Bonkers parked by the front door as if waiting for a VIP.

  “Sure, show me no sympathy,” he called after Bonkers. “I may have to cut your cookie ration further.”

  Through the mass of containers on the floor filled with brightly colored bouquets and hanging plants from the ceiling, Lennox spotted Bonkers. The damn dog stared at the front door and wiggled his
hind end in excitement.

  Lennox shrugged and sucked his finger, and then decided that was unhygienic. He stuck it under the workroom faucet.

  The front doorbell rang, then the door banged shut, and he cursed. It was a day of interruptions.

  “Oh, look at the pup. What a sweetheart.” The unseen man’s voice was as thick and silky as warm caramel. Lennox picked up his ears. He was a sucker for a voice like that.

  “Be careful, sweetie,” said a woman. “You don’t know if he’ll bite.”

  Lennox wiped his finger with a paper towel and found it still bled. He took another towel and wrapped it around the digit and stepped inside the shop. He found, to his horror, Bonkers jumping on the pants leg of the potential customer.

  Lennox stopped in his tracks as he watched the man giving Bonkers an enthusiastic rubdown. His mouth ran dry as he watched the man’s muscles move under his black Brunello Cucinelli long-sleeve polo shirt. Cashmere, of course. Lennox had seen the shirt online and nearly spit out his latte at the $1,300 price tag. But more importantly, it highlighted the streaks of gold in the gentleman’s dirty blond hair. Lennox swallowed hard at how the man’s legs packed his deceptively simple tan chinos. They fit too well to be off the rack. Probably bespoke. But worst of all, the man wore a pair of distinctive Berluti Scrittos. It wasn’t the expense of the ensemble that got to Lennox. It was how well the man wore it, with a casual nonchalance that neither affirmed or denied who he was.

  The man turned his head to Lennox and flashed a thousand-megawatt smile. Lennox’s heart stopped, and he thought he’d pass out from sensory overload.

  “He won’t,” said Lennox. He felt as awkward as a teenage boy speaking to his first crush.

  “Pardon?” said the woman. She turned from a display she inspected to look over Lennox. It didn’t take but a second. It was apparent she dismissed him as a lowly shop clerk. Lennox spotted the gigantic engagement ring sparkling on her finger.

  Of course, thought Lennox. All the good ones are taken. Lennox was not thinking about the woman.

  “Bite. Bonkers won’t bite.”

  “That’s his name?” said the man with interest. “Fits.” He gave Bonkers another pat on the head. “Nice to meet you, Bonkers.”

  Bonkers wriggled his butt and jumped once more on the man’s leg. With his face burning with embarrassment, Lennox stepped forward. He pulled Bonkers away from the gorgeous man by his collar. He prayed that Bonkers didn’t carry paint on his paws. Lennox couldn’t hope to replace the astronomically-priced slacks.

  “Go lay down,” said Lennox sternly. Bonkers first glanced at Lennox with doggy hurt but disappeared to his bed behind the cash-and-wrap counter.

  “Let’s go, Theo,” said the woman. “I see nothing here.”

  Theo? Yes, the man looked like a god. A thoroughly straight god. Lennox bit his lip in frustration. Keep your mind on the job, he scolded himself.

  “Now, Livvy, wifey,” said Theo. “Let’s see what he has.” Theo’s voice carried a hint of a chiding tone.

  Livvy flashed him a disparaging glance as if Theo laid it on too thick, and he gave her a knowing stare back. These two knew each other so well they didn’t need to speak to communicate. Finally, she shrugged.

  “Okay,” she said with defeat. “I’m afraid I have an almost impossible order to fill. You see, my wedding planner left for her vacation, and after she left, the florist called to cancel the order for the engagement party. Something about getting the flu and on death’s door. I don’t know.”

  “Livvy, I know you’re frustrated, but be nice.” Theo glanced at Lennox. “She’s very sweet, just stressed from the unexpected change of plans.”

  “Don’t apologize for me, Theo Collins.”

  Theo held up his hands and backed away.

  “Now I need twenty, no twenty-five centerpieces, not including the big centerpiece for the head table. Do you think you can handle that? Because the girl at Christi’s said they couldn’t.” Livvy glared at Lennox with a challenge in her eyes.

  “Christi’s is a new business. Pearsons’ been in business for fifty years with a list of many satisfied customers.”

  Though most of them were now dead.

  “You know this, sweetheart,” affirmed Theo. “Both our families have bought from this store.”

  “Yes,” sighed Livvy. “But I wanted something different.”

  “We can do that,” Lennox said impulsively. He stepped behind the cash-and-wrap and picked up a pencil and a pad.

  “Would you like to take a look at the order book for inspiration?” he said.

  She waved her hands. “No. I’ve seen a half dozen today. They’re all the same. I found nothing I wanted.”

  “What do you want?”

  Livvy’s eyes brightened.

  “Something original.”

  “I see,” said Lennox.

  “And elegant. It must be classy.”

  “Yes,” said Lennox with a sage nod.

  “And we must have them for this Saturday.”

  Lennox closed his eyes and died inside. No wonder no one would take the order.

  “Let me check our calendar,” he said. Lennox flipped open the appointment calendar, landed on the present month, and pursed his lips. It was mostly empty, but the order was too much work for Mrs. Pearson. And he wasn’t sure she’d have the funds to buy the flowers.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Livvy uttered a small whimper of distress and appeared close to shedding tears.

  “How about if we paid in advance?” said Theo.

  “Excuse me?” said Lennox.

  “Wifey, didn’t your friend Raffy spend something like three grand on her engagement party centerpieces?

  Livvy nodded.

  “How does five grand sound to get original, elegant centerpieces to my Livvy’s parents’ house this Saturday? Does that work?”

  “Oh, Theo. You shouldn’t.”

  “Consider it my wedding present. Well, one of the gifts. Anything for you, sweetheart.”

  “Will that work?” Theo leveled his astounding crystal-blue eyes at Lennox, who stood in a shock so profound he couldn’t speak. Five grand?

  “Can you do it?” said Theo.

  Lennox blinked, opened his mouth, and forced out a single word.

  “Sure.”

  “Awesome. Here Livvy, take my card, while I call the cab. You’re worn out, sweetheart. I’m taking you home.”

  Lennox wrote up the order in utter astonishment and gulped as Livvy announced where he should deliver the order. Even Lennox, as a relatively new resident of Waterside, knew that address. Watchtower Hill was the home of the Grants, who were the wealthiest family in town. He ran the black card, half hoping that it would decline because he did not know if Mrs. Pearson could put this large order together. But if he said no, Mrs. Pearson would be out of a ton of money.

  Lennox handed the receipt to Livvy who signed it as if she’d always done so.

  “You are a lucky woman,” he said.

  Livvy nodded, and her face softened. “I know it. And thanks. Getting this settled is an enormous relief for me.”

  “Sure,” said Lennox. “What time do you want these on Saturday?”

  “It’s an evening party, so noonish is good. The staff should be able to put them out in plenty of time.”

  The staff. What was it like to be that rich?

  “Thanks again,” said Livvy. She gave a small wave of her hand as she left the store. He watched through the window to see Theo help her into the yellow cab, and a pinprick of jealousy stabbed his heart.

  Why couldn’t he be the lucky one to have Theo Collins?

  Chapter Two

  Theo

  Theo forced himself to walk out of the florist shop because he might do something impulsive and improper, like pulling that incredibly handsome florist into the back room and kiss him.

  It was a struggle to maintain his air of casual indifference. Men rarely affected him the way the florist did. O
kay. The man was exceptionally gorgeous. The florist had a model’s face with his square jaw, dark hair, and sapphire-blue eyes. He was tall, with a muscular but wiry body that Theo liked. He enjoyed it when a man could stand over him and romance his mouth.

  Theo felt light-headed and couldn’t breathe.

  Where did this man come from? Waterside was a small town, and Theo thought he knew everyone.

  He rubbed his forehead to steady himself. What had come over him? He had pushed Livvy to visit the shop and didn’t understand why. She was tired and frustrated, and he had half-hatched a plan to call a telephone florist and order the damned things himself. But it would tick Livvy if he did, not because he didn’t have good taste, but because she imagined herself a modern, independent woman. She didn’t need a man to handle the details of her life. Or so she declared.

  She did, however, need her best friend.

  Him.

  Automatically he called the one cab company in Waterside, the summer residence for many of New York City’s elite. They swelled the town’s population on Memorial Day and left when dry autumn leaves clattered on the streets. Some people, like Livvy’s and his family, made Waterside their permanent residence. Both their families long since shed the need to run the streets of New York to guard their vast fortunes.

  Livvy walked from Pearson’s florist shop, and Theo held open the door of the cab for her, then climbed in after her. She handed him his credit card and the receipt.

  “You were beyond sweet back there. I was about to lose it.”

  Her hand rested on her leg, and he covered it with his and squeezed it.

  “You were awful, and I had to rein you in.”

  She chuckled at their old joke. “As if you could. But you can make it up to me for trying. She bent forward. “Driver, take us to the Waterside Inn. You, Theo, can buy lunch.”

  “Five thousand dollars’ worth of flowers doesn’t buy your gratitude?”