Page 43 of The Billionaire's Second Chance

“I want to show you something... in my studio.”

I connected the call to my AirPods so I could continue getting ready. “What could that be?”

“You’ll have to see it in person,” she replied impatiently.

“Lexie, I don't have time for games. I have an appointment and don’t want to be late.”

“I promise, you’ll still make it in time. I just need you for a couple of minutes.”

She sounded convincing, so I decided to see what she was so eager to show me.

“I’ll be there in five,” I said, ending the call.

When I arrived, Lexie was bent over her easel, palette in hand, brows furrowed in concentration. She didn’t hear me knock, so I quietly watched her work. Her hair was a ruffled mess, as if she’d been pulling at it.

The way she held the brush, moving it across the canvas in deliberate strokes, her expression, her poise—Lexie was a natural. It all flowed effortlessly.

“Kev, you’re here,” she said, finally noticing me with a smile.

“Yes, I am. I can see you’re in your element. What’s up?”

“I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”

I was curious. “Why?”

“Just do it, and stop arguing.”

“Not until you tell me what it is.”

“Trust me on this one.”

“Lexie...” I begrudgingly closed my eyes. “I don’t have all day.”

After a few seconds, she giggled. “You can open them now.”

I slowly opened my eyes and was completely blown away. Lexie had painted a portrait of Licia. I had been ready to chew her out if what she wanted to show me was a waste of time, but this was absolutely worth every second.

“Oh my gosh,” I exclaimed, taking the canvas from her.

“So, what do you think? Will she like it?”

“Are you kidding? Of course, she will.” I walked toward the wall, already picturing it hanging there. “This is a masterpiece.”

“Thank you.”

“How long did it take you to paint this?”

“I started after her birthday but finished it this morning,” she replied proudly.

“That’s brilliant. She’ll be thrilled.”

“Okay then. You can go now. I just wanted your opinion.” she said, reaching for the canvas.

“I’m not done admiring it.”

“Ogling at it, you mean?” She teased. “You didn’t want to come earlier, but you should see your face now... you’re in awe.”

“When am I getting my own portrait?”