Read Online Romance: The Art Of Love: A Billionaire Romance by Veronica Cross - Free Book Online

indication of his character, she thought. The things he kept in there
must be what’s truly important to him.
              She
padded over to his dresser. The surface held only the essentials – there was a
dish with Clifford’s watch in it, and a hairbrush. There was a small framed
picture. Annette peered at it. The older woman in the image looked a lot like
Clifford. “That must be your Mama,” Annette said, and was suddenly very aware
of her nakedness.
              She
backed away from the dresser and went into the adjoining bathroom. Clifford had
a bathrobe hanging from a hook in there. When Annette put it on, the blue and
white striped terrycloth covered her from her shoulders to her ankles. She had
to roll the ends of the sleeves up so they didn’t completely cover her hands.
              Clifford
smiled when he saw her dressed this way, standing on the patio adjoining his
bedroom. “Here’s your coffee,” he said, handing her a steaming mug.
              “Thank
you.” They stood, each sipping from their coffee, as the sun continued its slow
ascent. There was a little bit of a breeze, a cold wind that snuck inside
Annette’s robe, causing her to shiver.
              “You’re
cold?” Clifford asked.
              “The
last time you asked me that, amazing things happened,” Annette said. Clifford
smiled. “But I haven’t even finished my first cup of coffee yet. Give a girl a
chance.”
              “Believe
me, there’s nothing I’d rather do than make love to you,” Clifford said. “And I
mean absolutely nothing.” His phone rang in the next room and he rolled his
eyes. “But that’s going to be Madison, wondering where I am.”
              “You’re
not going to tell her?” Annette said.
              “That
I’m at my house?” Clifford smiled. “Of course I am.”
              “I
mean about us. About this.”
              “I’m
pretty sure she already knows,” Clifford said.

11

 
              “You
know what I’d really love to do?” Annette said.
              “Yes,”
Clifford said. “And I’m willing. Do you want to do that here, or go back to the
bedroom?”
              “Very
funny,” Annette said. “I’m serious.”
              “So
am I,” Clifford said.
              “I’m
sure you are,” Annette replied. “But right this minute, I want to talk about
art work. This forger’s got to be out there somewhere. I don’t believe this is
the first time Hans has pulled this trick. It’s just the first time he caught
you.”
              “And
Wilbur.” Clifford smiled. “Don’t forget about that.”
              “Never,”
Annette said. “But you two aren’t the only victims. I’m sure of that.” She
shook her head. “I’d love to track him down and bring him to justice.”
              “I’d
love that too,” Clifford said. “This guy’s got $22 million of my money. Not
that I’m going to make a big fuss about something like that, but it does piss
me off.”
              “Understandable.”
Annette smiled. “That’s like me losing every dollar I’ve ever made in my life,
and then some.”
              Clifford
nodded. “Knowing someone went to all the trouble of creating these paintings
specifically to fool me, or someone like me – it’s just wrong. Maybe they think
it’s a victimless crime, but it’s not, really. The money I spent on this bogus
Magritte is money that can’t go to a legitimate artist who’s truly earned it.
Or their family, as the case may be.”
              “It’s
bad for the industry, too,” Annette said. “The art world runs on trust. Of
course we authenticate as much as possible. You check the provenance, the
materials used, everything you can check. But sometimes there’s nothing to
check and you have to move forward on the word of the person