The Bellingerre Series Book #1: The Billionaire & The Trophy Wife

Chapter Eleven: New Interests

Bea's POV
"Would you happen to know who started this foundation?"

She craned her neck, looking around at the women in the ballroom as we make our way out. She says her husband is already here and she has to go home. She's happy to be going home as I am. These rich people are suffocating.

"She's not here today."

"Have you met her?"

"You have probably heard of her. She's a monarch."

"Which one?"

"Queen Nesrin."

"Oh! Look at you playing with the high rollers!"

"All of a sudden there are many of those in my life. It's not as rosy as it looks." She sighed in a sad way.

Her life looks like a fairytale. There is the dashing prince who is picture perfect. He lives in a grand chateau. They had a beautiful wedding. They represent the beauty of high end living.

"I'll be happy to not be one of those. I'm asking you if we can be friends."

She smiled at me. It's a big smile. "I would love that."

She stopped smiling when a man approached. He has curly hair, combed back. His sharp blue eyes settled on me before he shifted them to Keira. He took her by the waist and drew her close to himself just to kiss her. I looked away. I don't think they care but the paparazzi are happy.

Lights are flashing all around us. They are calling out to them like their careers depend on it.

"Theo..." she whispered. "... This is Bea. She's my new friend. Bea, this is Theo Sinclair. My husband."

"It's lovely to meet you."

"Likewise." He shrugged coldly.

I snapped out of the millions of conclusions I'm making about him. "Don't be a stranger Kei."

She smiled just enough. "It was wonderful meeting you. Maybe when I'm in London I'll find you." She gave me a brief hug.

I made my way to the Rolls that dropped me off.

"Did you have a good evening Miss Buchanan?" The driver asked me.

"It was fun." I answered.

"Miss Buchanan, all the paintings will be delivered to any address you choose." The art connoisseur assigned to me informed me.

"Can I get them tonight? I'd like to show Marc Anthony."

"Yes you will. Just give us the address."

The driver gave them the address which I know nothing about as Marc wanted it to be a surprise. He insisted on accompanying me to France. I know he's trying to make a romantic date out of this.

"Miss Buchanan, we should go. Mr Bellingerre is waiting." The driver got the back door of the Rolls Royce for me.

We remained silent for the rest of the journey. We drove out of town to a less populated but affluent part of the city. All I see are grand homes far apart from each other.

I am curious about Marc Anthony's slice of heaven. I have so much to tell him about my day, the auction and the women I met. I also have questions about Mrs. Sinclair that only he can answer.

The slice of heaven is an old house that looks very charming. I would describe it as something out of a fairytale. Old England even. A storybook house. It is even more cozy on the inside with arches and wood beams on the ceiling. Marc Anthony is standing behind the kitchen island in an apron. He looks sinfully delicious.