BOOK 6 > Ch. 2 ~THE PAINTING~

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'You're just too fvcking late, I just thought that you should know. You can't decide to love me after I am settled to let you go.' - JB







i...







New haircut, clean shaven and wearing an expensive perfume, Richard Armani flattened the front part of his sleek tuxedo, just after his hair was handsomely brushed up. He sighed out loud, while he stared blankly at the human-size mirror installed in his walk-in closet. He didn't know why he was suddenly high strung and he forgot when was the last time he actually felt this way. Maybe because he'll be seeing her again after a few years of endless chase. He can't believe it. He felt butterflies and stressed at the same time, as if he was not used in meeting people. God knows he had dreaded this day to happen. Now that it's about to happen, he can't seem to begin on how to handle it. Like he's clueless if he's going to do the right thing, if he will not mess up with using words when he finally talk to her. It was like getting ready to convince a high-profile client to side his company. It felt like that. Only, he'll talk to her to persuade her to listen and that's where the challenge begins. He may not have problems going after billion peso accounts and he can win them even without the effort. Getting his wife's approval will just have to be that slow.


This evening, he'll be attending a painting gala by Draco Keanu Ibarra. This was why Dee and her husband flew all the way from Australia to the Philippines. Angelo's family owned the Museum where Drake will bring his masterpieces for the exclusive viewing of those invited VIP's. He wasn't invited at all. Didn't get any invitation at all. Usually, their family always was the first to receive invitations. But not this time. But he won't need it. He's inviting himself in. Dee gave him the full details of what will happen that evening and the schedule of the gala.




" Son? "




He watched Madame O.J entered, sending him her most encouraging smile. She stood behind him, while her kind, motherly hand brushed his sleeve.




" You look nervous. "



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