Mending Images With The Billionaire (Artists & Billionaires Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  nineteen

  twenty

  twenty-one

  twenty-two

  twenty-three

  twenty-four

  twenty-five

  twenty-six

  epilogue

  acknowledgments

  about the author

  Dear Reader,

  Other Books By Lorin Grace

  American Homespun Series

  Waking Lucy

  Remembering Anna

  Reforming Elizabeth

  Healing Sarah

  Artists & Billionaires

  Mending Fences

  Mending Christmas

  Mending Walls

  Mending Words

  Mending Hearts

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  Copyright

  Cover Design © 2018 LJP Creative

  Photos © Deposit Photos, Background photos by Colin Maynard and Gaby Yu on Unsplash

  Formatting by LJP Creative

  Edits by Eschler Editing

  Published by Currant Creek Press

  North Logan, Utah

  Mending Images with the Billionaire © 2018 by Lorin Grace

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, locations, events and dialogue in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously.

  First edition: October 2018

  For Dad

  My favorite photographer in the world.

  one

  Abbie Hastings adjusted one of the filters Mandy had given her until Araceli’s eyes danced with joy in the graduation photo on her computer screen. Ever since meeting the women at Friday Night Art Society, Abbie had spent more time on expanding her photography hobby. Learning about lighting and composition as well as a few digital-correction tricks completely changed the world she viewed from behind her camera. Candace and the others in the Art House had always been kind enough to include Abbie in their projects because as Mandy Crawford’s principle bodyguard, she usually had to be where Mandy was. But recently, Abbie suspected her inclusion had more to do with friendship than duty. This morning she found herself split between the two options. She should be with Mandy.

  Sometime before dawn, her brother Alex had accompanied Mandy and her husband, Daniel, on a nonroutine trip to the maternity ward at the county hospital.

  She rechecked her phone. No missed calls. No missed texts.

  Her father’s warnings had proved correct. She’d become too attached to her client. But who wouldn’t fall in love with Mandy?

  “Are those Araceli’s and Tessa’s graduation photos?” Candace pointed over Abbie’s shoulder. “They turned out great! I love the one of Araceli and Kyle in front of the bell tower. And, oh, this one of Tessa with Sean—I am so glad he proposed. They make such a good team.”

  Abbie jumped.

  When had Candace come into the room, and how had she missed it? Technically she was off duty, but being distracted wasn’t good. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before answering. “Don’t you love this one?” she asked as she enlarged the photo of Araceli hugging her dad.

  “I want to frame it and give it to Mr. Williams when we go back for the wedding. Any word on Mandy yet?”

  “No, I’m getting worried. I thought someone would text by now. I wish I had stayed at the guard house last night. Then I could have been with them. Mandy’s safety is my job.”

  Candace put her arm around Abbie, the soft pale-pink locks of the wig she’d purchased to celebrate the first Friday Night Art Society baby brushing Abbie’s cheek. “I don’t think this is something in your job description. You can’t round kick the doctor or force the contractions to stop.”

  “But she is only at thirty-two weeks.”

  “I know. That’s why we prayed together this morning, and I have been texting everyone I can to let them know to pray too. Colin is doing the same. Mandy has many friends, and there is strength in numbers.”

  Abbie closed her laptop. “I probably should go pack. The little hospital here doesn’t have a NICU, so I am sure that whatever happens, Daniel will want to move her back to the Chicago penthouse and her regular OB.”

  “Only pack what you need. The room is yours as long as you want it. I don’t think I could live with another empty room. Have you seen Araceli’s? There is carpet in there. I had forgotten what color it was. And with the last of Tessa’s stuff gone from the room the two of you’ve been sharing, the house feels half empty.” Candace gave her head a little shake.

  “It has felt half empty most of the semester with as much time as Tessa spent in New York.”

  “Not to complain, but two roommates getting married this summer, both asking me to be their maid of honor is going to keep me busy. I am not sure what Araceli was thinking—only three weeks between graduation and the wedding. Do you know if you’re going to Boston yet?”

  Mandy wanted to go, but the doctor didn’t want her flying. “We looked at the train option. Daniel wants something like the old Pullman cars for Mandy. I think he’s leaning toward a luxury bus equipped with a queen bed in it. But—”

  Candace finished the thought for Abbie. “It might not happen. Best that Mandy and the baby are safe. The Evans family is arranging to pick up me and Zoe in a private jet. All these billionaires are spoiling me. I’ll never be able to go back to real life.”

  “Are you talking about me again?” Zoe entered from the direction of the library.

  “No, I was telling Abbie about our flight.” Candace’s voice took on a teasing tone as it often did with her younger cousin.

  “Oh, so real life means not having expensive travel options?” Zoe crossed to the fridge and pulled out a mineral water.

  “Pretty much. Once Araceli and Tessa get married, I’ll have four former roommates married to billionaires. Statistically, I bet I have a better chance of being hit by a meteor.”

  Abbie zipped up her laptop case. “Who is the fourth?”

  “My first roommate, Kim, married a chemical genius who invented some formula and bingo! Another rich husband.” Candace pulled her phone out and studied the screen before putting it back in her pocket.

  Zoe opened her bottle and joined them at the table. “What about you and Colin?”

  Candace scowled but was spared answering as the first three cords of Bach’s Fugue in B Minor played. Abbie grabbed her phone. “Hello?”

  “It’s Daniel. The good news is they have stopped the contractions. However, even the doctors don’t want Mandy at a hospital without a NICU. Our options are to take an ambulance ride to F
ort Wayne or hire a private medical transport to Chicago. Mandy’s doctor in Chicago wants to keep her on twenty-four-hour monitoring before she sends her home on bed rest.”

  Abbie didn’t need to ask what option Daniel had chosen. “When do you leave for Chicago?”

  “Within the hour.”

  “What do you need me to do?” Abbie started gathering her things.

  “You know the two-month paid vacation Mandy promised you after the baby comes in July? Well, your vacation just increased to four starting today. Go have fun and take lots of pictures at Araceli’s wedding. Mandy is very firm on the photo part. She is heartbroken about not being able to go.”

  “So you don’t need me?”

  “Not as a bodyguard but as Mandy’s friend, always. Her mother is flying up from South America, so come and visit as often as you want. The doctor is here. I need to go. I’ll have Alex call you, and I know Mandy will soon.”

  The phone went silent. Abbie relayed the pertinent information to Zoe and Candace. “So is there another spot in Kyle Evans’s jet for the wedding? I’m on extended vacation.”

  The Hastings Security agency was everything Preston T. Harmon expected it to be. The receptionist, middle-aged and professional, was unassuming and most likely armed, well-hidden security cameras monitoring his every move. He suspected that her call to Jethro Hastings to announce his presence was entirely unnecessary. A glint in the receptionist’s eye made him think twice about proceeding. Very few people measured a Chicago Harmon and found them lacking, but she did not seem impressed.

  He checked his tie before entering the owner’s office.

  Preston shook the hand of the man behind the desk. Mr. Jethro Hastings could easily win a round of almost anything against half the members of Preston’s father’s security team. Preston swallowed as he took his seat, knowing he had come to the right place.

  “Mr. Harmon—”

  “Preston, please. I am always looking for my father, grandfather, or uncle when someone calls me mister.”

  “I am curious why you are here. Your family has their own private team and a very good one at that.”

  “Which is part of the problem. I don’t know who I can trust. So far our team has come up with very few leads. I have begun to wonder if part of my problem is our men. It’s time to go outside our team, and according to Daniel Crawford, you have the best security firm in Chicago.”

  “You know Mr. Crawford?” Jethro sat back in his chair. Preston guessed the owner to be in his mid-fifties, but other than his short-cropped gray hair and a few wrinkles around the eyes, there was little to pinpoint his age. Mr. Hastings wore a jacket over a tie-less button down, business casual or easier to conceal his shoulder holster, Preston wasn’t sure.

  Preston hadn’t squirmed in his chair this much since he’d sat with Daniel in front of the headmaster at their boarding school when he was seventeen and Daniel thirteen. “We were in school together.”

  Jethro smiled. “Then we’ve met before.”

  “I hoped you wouldn’t remember.” The tie around his neck tightened. “That was a long time ago.”

  “So, why are you here? I assume it’s for a better reason than talking the younger students into moving the headmaster’s 1970 Monte Carlo onto the roof of the gym.”

  “No, I learned my lesson. I have a problem. My girlfriends and fiancées keep dumping me.”

  “Have you tried a dating service?”

  “No. Finding a date is not my problem. It’s the stalker. About three years ago he started terrorizing my girlfriends. Every time I get into a serious relationship, the woman I am dating starts getting threats. They escalate until she dumps me. Last year the stalker scared my fiancée so badly she canceled the wedding and moved to Europe. I am ready to propose to Yvette. I have everything all planned out so we can have a quick wedding. The invitations will be sent out the morning after we announce the proposal, and we will be married a month later. I don’t want to give the stalker time to scare her off, too.” Preston found he could breathe again.

  “Has she received any threats?”

  “Just the usual notes and black rose. Our security team intercepted about half of those. All of the roses come from the same florist. A man orders them, and then a courier or Uber driver shows up, pays in cash, and delivers the flowers. The florist has been cooperating with us, but none of the couriers has been able to give us a lead beyond a man orders them by phone. They get the cash from various sources, including an envelope taped to the underside of a table at a McDonald’s.” He kept his voice even as to not betray his frustration. Order and organization were the hallmarks of his life, a genetic gift from his British mother.

  Jethro wrote on a notepad. “Does Yvette know about the threats to your former girlfriends?”

  “When things got serious, I told her. She moved into the guesthouse so she could be under our security umbrella.”

  “So, what do you need?”

  “I need a bodyguard no one will recognize and who can blend in. I don’t want Yvette to realize she has another one. I don’t even want our team to realize Yvette has another guard. Whoever the stalker is, they have gotten onto the property again.”

  “Again?”

  Preston pulled a clear gallon plastic bag out of his pocket. “She found this note on her pillow this morning when she came out of the shower.”

  “Who’s touched it?” Jethro reached for the bag and examined the contents.

  “Only Yvette.”

  “I can’t tell you the last time I read a message cut out from magazine letters.”

  “Vogue. At least the V in violets is off the index page.”

  Jethro raised an eyebrow.

  Preston shrugged. “Publishing empire. I know my competition’s logos.”

  “Not the best poetry.” Jethro read the note. ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, only the dead say ‘I do.’” He set the note to the side of his desk. “Can you get me Yvette’s fingerprints?”

  “I’ll email them to you. She modeled for us before we started dating, and we took her prints as part of her security check. Yvette is a video blogger who runs a fashion blog and posts all over social media. I think if we get a bodyguard to be a special wedding photographer who follows her every move all month, she will never suspect. You don’t happen to have someone who could pass as a decent photographer, do you?”

  “I have an excellent employee whose schedule for the next couple of months opened up just this morning.”

  “Great. When can he start?”

  “She could meet with you tomorrow.”

  “She?” Of course women could be bodyguards. His mother had a female guard, but it hadn’t crossed his mind when he’d thought of the idea.

  “Oh, I’m sure Abbie Hastings will be the perfect guard for you and your fiancée.”

  His daughter? The necktie needed to be loosened again.

  two

  “I hoped to at least take vacation through Araceli’s wedding.” Abbie sat across from her father in his office.

  “This may give you a new client. I’ve long felt you have gotten too close to Mandy Crawford to continue to be an effective bodyguard.”

  It was too easy to let her guard down, especially when she was with the other women she now considered friends. “I understand what you’re saying, and I know we need to change Mandy’s protection detail, especially when she starts going out with the baby. Do you think Mr. Harmon will at least give me the weekend of the wedding off?”

  Jethro chuckled. “Well, you can ask him. He should be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “Does he come across as spoiled and playboy-ish as he does in the media? I mean, he does go through girlfriends faster than most men go through pizza.”

  “Abbie—” Her father’s stern look reminded
her of all the times she’d been in trouble with Alex as a child. “You know it’s not for us to judge our clients’ lifestyles, and if his girlfriends have been leaving because of these threats, you need to give him some leeway. After all, look at the media mess Daniel got himself into last year. Not everything is as it seems on the surface.”

  “Well, when he does come, I’ll be in my office. I haven’t set foot in there for the last month and a half. I can’t wait to see what’s on my desk.”

  Her father’s laughter followed her down the hall.

  Someone had put fresh flowers on the side table. Abbie appreciated the little touch of femininity. Growing up the only girl and sharing hand-me-downs with Alex meant her family tended to forget she enjoyed a few frilly things now and then. One of the perks of guarding Mandy this past year was being able to wear fancy dresses and fashionable business attire to blend in as Mandy’s guard. The other perk was getting to know Candace and all the other women of the Art House. Even in her college days, with her criminology major being heavily male, the friendships she’d forged hadn’t included many women.

  Her desk wasn’t piled nearly as high as she expected. Probably because the office took care of most things electronically. There were a few periodicals and catalogs, most of which she tossed in the recycle bin, but she kept the catalog with concealed-carry handbags and other accessories to look at later.

  The intercom buzzed, and Marsha’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Your ten o’clock is here. Shall I send him back?”

  “I’ll come get him.”

  Abbie studied Mr. Harmon on the monitor for a moment before leaving her office. He looked like he had stepped off one of the covers of his family’s fashion and news magazines. She’d once thought Daniel formal, but after the past year, she knew he had a human side, too. She tried to keep an open mind as she rounded the corner to the reception desk. Mr. Harmon stood taller than she’d guessed from the media photos, maybe even a hair taller than Alex’s six foot three.