Mending Words With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 5)

by Lorin Grace

  Mandy squealed and hugged her former bodyguard. “Have a girl. She will only be nine months younger than Joy. We can have so much fun!”

  Both women turned to Araceli.

  “Do you have any news?” asked Mandy.

  Araceli held up her hands and shook her head. “Don’t look at me like that. We are still living in a third-world country for another month, maybe two. We are waiting until we get back to consistent medical care and where Zika isn’t a threat. Kyle’s mom had difficulty with all her pregnancies from day one, and that isn’t a risk we are willing to take. Besides, mosquito netting is a stumbling block to romance.”

  Zoe covered her ears. “TMI.”

  The women laughed.

  Candace changed the subject. “So, how are you going to repaint? Painting was part of the deal, wasn’t it? Does Sean want something normal or more like Art House?” Nothing could be like the Art House, with its murals and maze of hallways created by years of art students.

  “I think I’ll start with the kitchen. Anything will be better than this olive. Tessa picked out a yellow. I don’t think she trusted Sean.”

  Two hours later, Zoe was left walking through a furniture store with only Candace. Araceli had caught a plane back to Haiti. Preston and Daniel had both texted their wives and taken Abbie and Mandy off to various places. After purchasing a new bed to be delivered that afternoon, Zoe only needed a couple more items.

  Candace ran her hand over a bookcase in the second store. “I still can’t believe everyone is moving on so fast. I didn’t see Abbie ever getting married. I thought she would be a safe roommate.”

  “I’ll be back.” Zoe turned over a price tag.

  “I bet you a semester’s rent that Scott & Ricks hires you as soon as you get your diploma in December. You won’t be back.”

  Zoe smiled. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Scott & Ricks is the kind of place every freshman hopes to work when they graduate. But this is not Indiana. I am not naive enough to think living in the city will be easy. I am such a country mouse.”

  “The old song says, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.” Candace sat in a chair. “Oh, try this one.”

  Zoe tried the upholstered recliner. “What are you going to do since you turned down the teaching job?”

  “I have a few commissions lined up. Not as many as I would like, but I have enough work for now.” Candace sat in a different chair, shaking her head as she got up.

  “Have you considered selling Art House?” Another chair caught Zoe’s eye. She might not get a job at Scott & Ricks, but with graduation in December, she would move on anyway, maybe to Fort Wayne or South Bend.

  “Why? Where would I go? I have an amazing studio space and everything I need.”

  “Including two empty bedrooms? Three if you count mine.” Zoe raised her brow. “I think I’ll take this chair.”

  “Mandy comes down regularly.” Candace took on the pensive tone that came more often as summer progressed.

  “Do you think she will close up her little house now that they have a mansion under construction closer to Chicago? She already travels less because of Joy.” Zoe wrote down the ID number of the chair.

  Candace didn’t answer.

  “You had your ten-year plan and your bucket list. Check, check, and double check. It’s time for a new plan. You know as well as the rest of us that Colin wants more than friendship.”

  “No. I can’t. You and I may have different reasons for remaining single, but mine are just as valid.”

  “A decade has shown your reasons may be wrong.” Zoe opened a drawer in a dresser, wondering if she could get by without one.

  Candace took a step closer. “Just because I am here having this discussion with you doesn’t mean my reasons have changed. And what about yours? Not every man in the world is a selfish jerk. Perhaps your reasons need to change too.”

  Zoe glared at her cousin. This was getting way too personal for the middle of a furniture store. “My reasons are never going to change.”

  “Mine can’t.” A tear formed near the corner of Candace’s eye.

  “You don’t know that, things are already different.” Zoe crossed her arms, desperate to get Candace to believe in a future she thought to be lost.

  Candace rushed out of the store.

  Zoe exited just as Candace was climbing into the back of a cab. Pedestrians streamed by.

  She shrank back against the building and tried to figure out what to do next.

  After seeing Colin off, Nick returned to his penthouse. Of all the men in his acquaintance, Colin would win the title “Least likely to be in the nine-zeros club.” Although Nick suspected he was in the ten-zeros club. For Colin, if the subject wasn’t related to a computer, it didn’t exist. Well, other than Candace. She was good for him. Got him to leave his bat cave or whatever he lived in more often. Socialization had never been Nick’s problem. If anything, he had too many friends. However, few of them were close, and more than a few only wanted to be associated with the Gooding name.

  The place was spotless as always. His current part-time housekeeper was the best he’d ever had. He knew he would find the refrigerator full of enough food to have an impromptu gathering of friends this weekend if he chose. But this Saturday, he didn’t feel like having anyone over. Maybe the need for privacy was the result of all the events of Sean’s wedding and seeing the close friendships there, especially among Tessa’s old roommates. Not once did they say anything catty behind each other’s backs. Uncommon among many of the women he knew. Maybe growing up in the Midwest with middle-class families had taught them kindness. So that was this week’s excuse. What was the reason last week and the week before?

  He grabbed a water and headed out to his balcony, which overlooked the south end of Central Park. As soon as it had come on the market, he’d snagged the penthouse at the former Plaza Hotel. Not that he didn’t like the Cottage, but he thrived in the city. Unconsciously, his gaze traveled to the west side of the park in the direction of Sean’s old apartment. How was Zoe settling in? Nick scrolled through his contacts only to realize he’d never gotten Zoe’s number. Tessa would have Zoe’s contact information, but he wouldn’t interrupt their honeymoon for that. Sean would never let him live the blunder down. He texted Colin knowing he probably wouldn’t hear back until his friend’s plane landed in Chicago.

  Now, to plan an ice cream date that would last longer than grabbing a cone from Old Fellows, even if their strawberry ice cream ranked among the top in the country. He could show her around Manhattan. That would give them a few hours together.

  By the time Colin answered his text, Nick had a foolproof date planned.

  Hi, Zoe, it’s Nick. Settled in yet? How about I show you around the city with our ice cream cone?

  He hit Send and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  He hadn’t anticipated needing a dose of Colin’s patience so soon, but one thing he’d learned dealing in real estate was that waiting had its own rewards.

  five

  Zoe’s phone pinged.

  She wasn’t ready to talk to her cousin yet, so she ignored it. The small grocery store had a surprising variety of foods, but the crowded aisles made her understand why many people ordered online. Next week she would try that. Carrying home a gallon of milk and two bags of groceries was not very fun either. At least she had opted not to get staples like flour and sugar this trip. The extra ten pounds would have done her in.

  Zoe passed a corner florist. She should buy herself a bouquet like the girls in the movies. Determined not to look like the Indiana farm girl she was, her binge-watching of the last two weeks had consisted entirely of movies and shows set in New York, just not the crime shows. They would not be helpful at all.

  The drab-oliv
e refrigerator looked better with food inside it. Zoe couldn’t help but wonder how the forty-year-old relic still worked. She opened the box to one of her favorite frozen meals and discovered another thing the apartment lacked—a microwave. In the cupboard above the fridge, she found a cookie sheet that may have predated all the appliances. She set the pan in the center of the small oven and turned the knob. She heard a rapid clicking sound, but nothing else seemed to happen. Zoe closed the oven door and waited. Maybe the flame needed to wait a moment. She found spots in the empty cabinets for the rest of her groceries.

  Rotten eggs?

  Zoe sniffed again. Gas! She hurried to turn the oven off. What should she do? Call 911? Zoe opened the kitchen window and grabbed her phone. Who would know? Growing up, she’d only had electric ovens. Even Grandma had owned one since the ’50s. The ancient thing would often send out an electrical pulse guaranteed to shock anyone standing too close to the metal-edged countertops. Zoe opened the window in the living room as well before unlocking her phone screen. The internet should tell her what to do.

  Nick’s text popped up on the top of her notifications. Would he know? Probably not, but he might have a housekeeper or someone who would.

  Do you know what to do when you turn on a gas stove and it doesn’t light?

  —Turn it off!!! How long was it on? Are you still in the apartment?

  3 minutes maybe?

  —Open the windows.

  Did that.

  —Call the super.

  The super what?

  —The superintendent.

  Oh. I don’t know where to find his number.

  —He used to live in the apartment on the left when you go down into the basement.

  Ok.

  Zoe ran down the stairs and knocked on the door, which was helpfully labeled “Superintendent.”

  He isn’t home.

  —Why don’t you come over here for dinner? I live in the old Plaza Hotel on the south side of the park. Any cabbie would know the address.

  Zoe walked back up the stairs, not sure how to answer. She assumed he lived alone. If Candace was here, they could both go, but the fight would come back up.

  No, thanks. I’ll wander around until the gas dissipates.

  —Around the corner to your left is Lucinda’s. Order the soup of the day and the brioche bread pudding for dessert. You’ll thank me later.

  K. Thanks.

  —Please get the super to check your pilot light before trying to cook again.

  I will.

  Zoe ran back upstairs to check the door to the apartment. As she hoped, she’d remembered to lock it. A rumble in her middle sent her in search of Nick’s recommendation. After leaving the building, she walked down the stairs and turned right. The restaurant on the corner had an Italian name. Two more right turns later, Zoe found Lucinda’s Café. She checked her texts, wanting to tell Nick he was wrong about the directions. Left. Zoe sighed. Well, at least she hadn’t made a fool of herself by texting back.

  “Zoe!”

  She turned toward the voice. What was he doing here?

  “Finished so soon?” Nick reached her side.

  “No, I was just going in.”

  He checked his watch. “You didn’t go back in the apartment, did you?”

  “I took the scenic route to the café.”

  Nick held open the door. “Well, then, I am just in time.”

  “In time for what?”

  “To see the look on your face when you try the food here.”

  They ordered at the counter. Nick set down a fifty before Zoe could dig any money out of her pocket. “My treat.”

  She followed him to the table and slid onto the bench opposite him. At least this would take care of their ice cream cone date.

  “You have a smudge here.” Nick pointed to a spot on his own cheekbone. “Looks like the old oven got you.”

  Zoe raised her hand to her cheek. She must be a mess.

  “No, other side.” He leaned across and rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

  Electricity shot through her, freezing her in place until he removed his hand.

  Nick made a face. “I think I made it worse.”

  Zoe’s hand flew to her cheek.

  “The restrooms are back there.” He nodded, indicating the direction.

  The bathroom mirror showed more problems than just the black smudge. Her hair stuck out at odd angles from her messy bun, and her mascara was smeared under her right eye. Probably from the cry she’d had after Candace left the furniture store. She restored what damage she could with water and paper towel. Good thing she wasn’t trying to impress Nick. She rubbed at the black smear on her cheek again. What had been wrong with her when he’d tried to clean off the smudge? It was grease. Perhaps the electric feeling was some odd static thing amplified by the oily stain. By the time she returned to the table, her soup awaited her.

  “Did you find the furniture you needed?”

  “I found some. However, I didn’t get any ordered.”

  “Why not?”

  Zoe stirred her soup. “Candace and I exchanged some words, and I didn’t finish getting furniture.”

  Nick nodded and ate. The impression he would have said more but was holding back filled the space between them.

  Zoe tried to find a subject to fill it. “Have you heard of Scott & Ricks?”

  “I have used them on several of our accounts. Their PR arm takes care of the Gooding public relations. They rent five floors in one of my buildings.”

  She locked her jaw to keep the water she drank from spewing out. “Your buildings?”

  Nick smiled. “I may have lied when I said the bank called and someone stole all my money. I have several investments, including office buildings.”

  “Oh. So if I ever get locked out of the building, you have the keys?”

  Nick made a show of patting his pockets. “Not on me. But I know who to call to get you in. Most of my buildings have electronic keys anyway, along with state-of-the-art security when needed.”

  “If you own real estate, why would you discourage Sean from buying his old building?”

  “At the moment, the building isn’t a good investment. The owner has raised the price, hoping Sean will buy out of sentimentality. After Sean walked away from negotiations, the price dropped by over a million. The other reason is I think Sean needs to understand what he is getting himself into before he jumps into real estate or any other venture. Sean wants the brownstone for sentimental reasons, and he could have a charming private residence if he used the top two floors of the building or even the entire thing.”

  “That would be huge.”

  “The building was built as a single-family home.”

  “That still seems like a lot of room.”

  “They did have large kitchens and staff as well as families with more than 1.8 children.” Nick finished his soup. “The biggest obstacle he will have is there is one other rent-controlled apartment in the building. However, with the right enticements, the tenant can usually be persuaded to move elsewhere.”

  Zoe finished her soup and exchanged her bowl for her dessert plate. Nick sat back in his seat and watched her.

  “You are making me nervous.”

  He raised a brow. “Why?”

  “What if I don’t like it?”

  “Are you allergic to any foods?”

  “No.”

  “Then you will like it.”

  “Confident much?”

  He answered with a smile.

  Zoe took her first bite. She wasn’t going to thank him. By the time she returned to Indiana, she would gain ten pounds off this dessert alone.

  “Told you that you would like it.”

  “
Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you are right?”

  “Other than my sisters, no.”

  Zoe savored another bite. “Do me a favor, don’t introduce me to any more amazing foods while I am here.”

  “We still have to get an ice cream cone, and Old Fellows is ranked among the top thirty in the nation.”

  Zoe shook her head and used her fork to point to her dessert. “No, you paid for this. You have completed your date obligation.”

  “This was not a date. This was a fortuitous meeting of friends.”

  “If that is all dinner was, you would have let me pay for my dinner.”

  Nick finished his brioche. “That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me. You are, after all, a damsel in distress, chased from your apartment in an attempt to make your dinner. I rescued you from going to bed hungry.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes.

  “You do that a lot.”

  “What?”

  Nick slowly rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated puff of air.

  “I do not.” Lie. Candace told her the same thing at least once a week.

  Nick laughed.

  Zoe finished her dessert.

  “Let me walk you back. If the super isn’t home, I have someone I can call to check the oven out.”

  Since the alternative was possibly waking up dead, Zoe agreed.

  The super still didn’t answer his door.

  Nick pulled out his phone and texted his personal assistant. Did you find someone to check out the oven?

  —Yes. Just waiting for your call.

  Please send them over.

  —ETA 10–15 minutes.

  Thanks

  “Let’s go walk around the block. Someone will be here in ten minutes or so to look at the oven. If it doesn’t check out, can you go back to Blue Pines with your friends for the night?”