Billionaire Daddy's Little Artist

Chapter 3 : Billionaire's Row

*Lily*

I wrapped my arms around him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing playfully against my teeth. I moaned as his hands slid lower and lower, finally jacking up my skirt as he lifted me up and set me down on the desk.

He pushed away all the papers without even seeming to move his hands off me, and I barely heard the laptop crash to the floor as he expertly laid me down. He broke the kiss for a moment as he looked at me with hungry eyes, his fingers now inside my panties and exploring every inch as he moved closer and closer to my soaking wet....

I awoke with a start, hearing a crash that I soon recognized as the garbage pickup outside.

I sighed. Just at the good part… I'd been lost in the embrace of William Shaw.

“Who is your friend's father," I reminded myself with a groan.

I rubbed my eyes, remembering last night's success at the gallery. For a split second, I worried that I'd possibly imagined the whole night, but checking my phone, the explosion of texts on my Twitter and i********: pages said otherwise.

I wondered if congratulatory responses, emojis, and news of my triumph might reach my family. Still desperate for approval I knew would never come, I thought about dialing my mother's number but stopped myself for two reasons. One, they might ruin the moment for her. Two, they might look up the pieces online, and I'd be mortified. If word spread in my small-town community or school system where both parents worked, they'd die of embarrassment.

Three, I'd still barely recovered from the tease of that sexy dream....

I frowned as I thought of my parents. I hated the fact that they acted like I was an alien dropped from the sky onto their porch without instructions. It wasn't like I ever got into trouble per se, but I never followed the norm, and even once had the audacity to question their unmitigated faith. They couldn't understand my desire to paint instead of help with chores.

When I began applying for college, I finally saw a way out, and when the university offered me the full-ride scholarship to Pace, I grabbed it, knowing I'd never receive the blessing I so desperately craved.

The events of the evening played over again and again in my mind. Hannah left quickly after the guests departed, so I couldn't gauge her reaction. Edwardo had commented on me 'killing it.' I was ecstatic; all I wanted to do was run home to my apartment and celebrate with Adam and Patrick.

A thousand thoughts flittered through my mind now. Maybe I had entered a parallel universe where the sun shone directly on me. Then Tony sent me the critics' responses. I hadn't even been aware of their presence; the idea of that would have made me beyond nervous, which was probably why Tony sheltered me from the burden until now in case the reviews might be sub-par.

But that was far from the case. One critic wrote, “Lily Matthew's Blue Grotto collection was 'visually spellbinding.'"

As pleased as I felt, it pained me to think I'd sold something so precious to me. My paintings were my children. But then I thought I might have a chance to see the pieces when I visited Eva. I also wondered what Eva thought of her father's elaborate purchase—if she knew. Had she asked him for them all? It seemed unlikely for Eva to hide such an elaborate act.

As if on cue, Eva texted me. 'Lunch today?'

I responded, 'Sure.'

Still aroused from my dream, I needed a cool shower. Every five minutes, my mind drifted back to William. I turned on the hot water and stepped inside, rubbing the body wash on my arms, breasts, and legs.

The harder I tried not to think about him, the more he was all I could think about. Remembering what he'd done to me in the dream made me flush. It seemed insane that he had bought all my pieces. I turned the faucet to cold and gasped as the water rushed over me. I then rinsed my hair and toweled off, wondering where my roommates were.

Much to Adam's dismay, I never dated. I didn't have the time, and to be honest, there was no one I had met in college that remotely interested me—all delinquent frat boys who drank too much.

There was one guy, an actor, that I saw for a few months. Aside from giving me my one and only orgasm, he was incredibly selfish. He never offered to walk me home late at night and made us go Dutch on most dates, claiming he was broke. I was relieved one night when I caught him with another girl, loving the easy out to break things off.

It was just like Eva making me come to her and not meeting somewhere in the middle. I lived on the Lower East Side of Manhattan in an earthy community of artists, retirees, and young professionals. Our neighborhood had a ton of bars, restaurants, coffee shops, and parks. The vibrant nightlife was what drew Adam, a trust fund baby, to snag their apartment immediately. Still, she hadn't offered to come here.

I worked two jobs for the University to pay my share of the rent. One in the philanthropy division was drumming up donations from wealthy alums. I also had a paid internship with the art department, where I helped plan student exhibitions and do more fundraising.

Thinking ahead, I had scheduled a free day, the day after the exhibition. Whether it went well or terribly, I figured I'd need a day to commiserate. Now I threw on a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt, a black blazer, and boots since there was no telling what kind of chichi restaurant Eva might choose. I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and headed for the subway. My phone vibrated as the train took off with the text, 'Let's meet at Tessa, Mediterranean, Amsterdam Ave."

Sounded expensive, I thought, holding onto the strap in the overcrowded train.

The Tessa restaurant was not what I expected, with its red brick walls, hardwood floors and low lighting. It was the type of place I might go to with my roommates or bring my parents to if they ever came to visit. Naturally, Eva was late, so I went to the bar and ordered a club soda.

Fifteen minutes later, Eva appeared carrying several shopping bags. “Oh, thank God, you're drinking. I could so use a cocktail." She leaned in for a hug and brushed my cheek with a real kiss. “Grey Goose martini, straight up and dirty," she instructed the bartender. “We're moving to a table."

The young guy nodded, unabashed by Eva's rudeness. He probably saw much worse, I mused, shooting him an apologetic smile.

“Thanks for meeting me uptown."

I remained quiet–as if I was even consulted on where to meet.

“Oh, please, you can't expect me to trek to the LES, for God's sake," Eva said.

She always referred to the Lower East Side in a belittling fashion that slightly irritated me, though I tried not to show it. So, it was perfectly okay for me to trek to the Upper West Side to accommodate her? I smiled at the irony and tried to let it go, though it soon became apparent why I had scaled back from accepting Eva's invitations over the last two years.

Truthfully, my ulterior motive for our lunch date was to find out what she knew about her father buying my collections. The problem was I had yet to figure out how to broach the subject without offending Eva.

After we settled in and ordered salads, Eva immediately began complaining about her father and how he was so busy. “He never had time for the family."

I bit my lip, holding back the fact that he had just attended a friend's function with her, where he bought said friend's entire collection, nonetheless. Still, I was unaware that Eva even knew this news.

“What does your father do?" Was it proper etiquette to ask this question of the elite? Considering my history with Eva, I hoped we were beyond such formalities.

“He's the CEO of LiVo Technologies, and just purchased Citadel Media, which incorporates a cable channel, film studio, and social media app." Eva snickered, sipping her drink. “He has no idea what he's doing. He's not even on Twitter. But seriously, Lily, he's hardly ever home." She took another drink. “When he's not traveling, he's working at all hours."

I wondered where 'home' was and somehow remembered hearing when I first met Eva that her parents lived on Billionaire's Row, but I had thought it was a joke at the time. While waiting for Eva, I had Googled where they lived, along with 'William Shaw,' to see if I could glean any details about the man behind the facade. Google expounded the man who was now the sole proprietor of my precious art lived around the enclave of Fifty-Seventh Street, a strip of uber-opulent tall buildings that stretched between Columbus Circle to the illustrious Park Avenue.

As she spoke, I found it odd that Eva used the term 'family' when it was just her and her mother. I wasn't aware of any siblings, aunts, uncles, or grandparents. And not that a family couldn't consist of three or two people, but Eva's parents were divorced, so she was just talking about William taking time away from her.

“He's too focused on the company, and has always been. It's why my mother left."

This lunch had been informative. I couldn't deny my feelings for William went beyond what could be called appropriate, and my interest had deepened since he bought my collection. My dream had stirred something deep within, and my mind wandered into thoughts about William as Eva rattled on. I played with my necklace, and the heat rose to my cheeks when I thought of my dream again.

“Lily! Did you hear what I said?"

The anger in Eva's voice snapped me back to the present. “I'm sorry, Eva. I have a lot on my mind with last night's show. What did you say?"

Not once had she brought up my show or congratulated me. It was old news as far as Eva was concerned.

“I said my mother wants him back. She may not have said it in so many words, but she's always asking me about our time together. And I know he would take her back in a heartbeat if she only made the first move."

This news flattened me and brought me back to my senses. William was a family man; whether he was still married or not, he had people who loved him. And I need not forget, this man was my closest friend's father, recently divorced and twenty years my junior—an impossible situation by any standards, not to mention the fact that he probably had dozens of females to choose from on any given day.

And now Eva was suggesting that her mother still had feelings for him and that he probably did for her as well. William had probably bought my art to appease Eva. But then why hadn't Eva brought it up? It was time to shut down these unrealistic fantasies once and for all. I was too scared to ask, as Eva had already blown up at me once.

The check came, and Eva held it to her chest. “My idea, my treat."

“No, Eva, you're always paying. I can't let you. You bought my art last night. Allow me, please."

Eva opened her eyes wide. “Okay."

She handed it to me, and I tried not to gasp at the total. Eva's two martinis and our two salads equated a third of my rent. I let out my breath, remembering the bill of sale coming from my collection, and I owed it all to Eva. So I paid it.

Outside, the sun shone, and a light breeze ruffled my hair. In Central Park, the pink buds on the cherry trees bloomed, emitting a heavenly sweet floral scent, in addition to the smell of freshly cut grass. As we walked down the busy street, I responded to a text from Tony.

“I should go up to his office right now and give him a piece of my mind," Eva said.

“Sorry, what?" I looked up from my phone.

“My father's office is right here, on the seventy-second floor. He's in town for once." She shook her head and raised a pinky for a cab.

The cab saved me from having to respond. “Thanks again, Eva. Take care." I wasn't sure when and if we'd rekindle our friendship, but I felt obliged to be there for my friend, even though Eva had completely dominated the conversation, yet said nothing of her father's exuberant purchase, which could only mean that she didn't know. It was all very strange.

Eva threw her bags in the backseat. “Let's stay in touch, for real." She rolled down the window. “Caio."

“Bye, Eva." I smiled and waved her off.

I immediately looked up at William's building and headed for his office.