Billionaire James: Billionaire Black Brothers, #6

By Josie Snow

Of the ten of the Black Brothers, James is the shy one. The quiet, artistic one. He lives his life flying around the globe purchasing art for collectors and sometimes himself. When he stumbles upon a student artist that has painted the most beautiful nude ever, he becomes obsessed. He wants the woman in the painting but when he stumbles up in her in real life and finds out how messy it is, will he stick around?

 

Lindsey ran to London to get away from a problem back home on LA. There she makes friends with an artist and poses for a painting. Little did she know that painting would forever change her life. Back home she meets James and struggles to accept this new happiness. But a darkness is still after her, and she may never be free. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: DM
• Release date: May 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393220343

Book preview

BILLIONAIRE JAMES

By Josie Snow

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 Josie Snow

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Chapter 1

James

I wandered through the gallery, gazing critically at all the paintings on the walls. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but at the same time, I was. I wanted something that was fresh – something unique. I wanted something no one had ever seen before. I wanted something that would complement my living room back home, and I had high standards for what that would be.

There were a lot of other art collectors wandering about the gallery. Each had their own opinion about what they were looking for – what they had to have, and why they had to have it.

The process of selecting of each painting was just as much an art as the paintings themselves. It was something that brought out the critic in everyone – something that appealed to most, but was a challenge well suited to only those who had a keen eye.

Sure, there were some aspects to what we did that could be chalked up to personal preference, and then there were other aspects of the trade that could be explained with only a basic knowledge of what makes good art.

But, anyone who truly knew what they were doing knew without a doubt that there was a knack for being able to find the right piece in a gallery. There was just something about good art that spoke to everyone. It is something that has the ability to break down walls and bring people together.

Art is more than just paint on a canvas to me. It is something meant to ignite the imagination of all who gazed upon it. I had something in mind, but yet, also nothing in particular. I wasn’t quite sure what the painting would be when I found it, but I knew I would know it when I saw it.

First, I made a pass around the perimeter of the room, looking at each of the paintings on the walls and seeing if any of them jumped out at me. Some caught my eye for a moment, but upon further inspection, I knew they weren’t quite what I was looking for.

I really wanted something that would truly capture the imagination. Something that would inspire me to do what I loved to do every time I laid eyes on it. Something that would speak to my soul.

But, as I made a second pass around the room, there wasn’t a single piece that ignited that feeling in my soul. So, I made my way toward the center. It wasn’t very often I made my way into the center of the gallery during these shows. It was the newer, fresher artists who were featured in the center of the gallery, and they didn’t often have the experience needed to reach the high standards I had.

But, this was London, and I was more than a little impressed with the artists who emerged from the local universities, as well as those who were just good at what they did. Not to mention, we were all young and just starting out once, and I wanted to give the up and coming artists the chance to be featured in my home, if they were worthy.

As one of ten brothers from one of the wealthiest and most famous families in the world, I had grown up wealthy. I didn’t know what it was like to not be able to afford something, or to have to tell myself no, out of necessity. I didn’t know what it was like to struggle, and I didn’t know what it was not knowing what was going to come next, or what I was going to do if my endeavors failed.

Mine was a life of privilege, and I acknowledged that. I embraced it in some ways, though I refused to let myself get drawn into a life that was already paid for.

Like my other brothers, I wanted to be a someone. I didn’t want to just be part of the mix of all the others. I didn’t want to just fit in with the rest of the group and not have to answer for myself. I didn’t want any of that. I wanted to be someone who was known for being me.

My name is James Black. I might be one of ten billionaire brothers, but I’m still one of a kind. I knew what I wanted in life, and I was going to chase it with a passion. I was going to make the most of all life had to offer, that was for sure, and I was going to rise to the top in the art world.

And so far, I had.

Everyone in the surrounding circles knew me, and they respected my opinion. Me buying a piece of art could be enough to make the career of a young artist, that was for sure. Though, I had to admit, I didn’t do much with young artists. I didn’t have the time to try to help someone else climb to the top, when I was working so hard to make it happen for myself.

But, as I wandered into the center of the gallery, gazing at all the different art pieces with the same critical eye with which I’d gazed on so many others, I found something... different. Near the very center of the display, where so many pieces of art were forgotten and looked over, stood a piece that I knew was meant to be mine.

The painting was of a woman. A young woman, who I would guess to be in her early twenties. Her body was plush and curvy, her flirty smile occupying the center of the painting, with the angle of her body hiding the nudity my eyes hungered for.

I didn’t know what it was about that painting, but I knew that it had to be mine. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one I had been looking for. It was the piece that I’d had in the back of my mind since the moment I decided I was going to find something new for my house.

And I had to have it.

I didn’t know how long I’d stood there, captivated by the sight of the painting, but before anyone else had the chance to come steal it from under me, I found the curator and told him to locate the professor whose student had produced it.

Oh, this piece? he asked. Yes, the professor and his artist is over there. Let me get him for you, he said with his hands behind his back. He walked solemnly over to the group of young artists who were watching their work like hawks. Each one wanted to make a sale of any kind, though none expected their work would bring in too much revenue.

That was just the way it was in the art world. Paintings were only worth what a person would pay for them, and the paintings that were produced by people without the necessary credentials weren’t normally the paintings most wanted to buy.

And not many art enthusiasts were very interested in creating new names in the field. So, the mere fact that I was there, and looking at the paintings in the center of the room was enough to cause quite the stir amongst those who were watching their pieces being critiqued and examined.

The curator soon returned with a nervous looking young man in tow. His eyes were wide, and he stumbled over his words as he tried to shake my hand. Nerves got the better of him, and he merely introduced himself as Jorge.

I understand you are interested in one of my pieces? he asked.

Yes, this one of the girl, I said. I’d given him a firm handshake and a swift nod, but I turned my attention back to the painting as I spoke. How much?

I wasn’t sure I was going to sell her, Jorge said, clearly grappling to find the words. It was understandable. If he didn’t think he was going to sell the piece, then why have a price in mind? With so many other options scattered about the room, it was no wonder to me that he thought he was only showcasing today.

But, this painting was far too good for me to even considering letting slip away.

I’ll give you twenty thousand, I announced.

Twenty thousand dollars! he gasped.

I want it delivered to my home in Las Angeles, California, I said as I handed him my card. I trust you can handle the delivery service?

His mouth dropped again, clearly shocked by the price I was willing to give for the art.

Yes, yes sir, he said at last. I’ll have it carefully packed and shipped out first thing in the morning. You have my word on that.

Good, I said. I’ll be home before it arrives, and I’ll oversee it being brought into the house myself. Make sure insure it, I don’t want it damaged in any way whilst in transit to the States.

I’ll make sure it’s pristine when it arrives, even if I have to carry it myself the entire way, Jorge said. I chuckled. I knew we had an effect on people, but it was still funny to see the way they reacted to me like this. He looked down at the card, then back at me. I could see there was something on his mind, but it was hard for him to find the words.

Finally, he mustered up the courage to ask what was on his mind. Do you mind if I get a selfie with you before I head back to my group? This is quite an honor.

Let’s make it quick, I said. Though I liked to maintain a minimal level of celebrity status among everyone I met, I couldn’t turn him down for something like that. It was nice to be well-known enough in the art world to be treated like something of a celebrity when I was at these shows. And, my face would help this kid in his own career.

Hell, this sale would help him, too. Now he had not only sold his first painting at an excellent price, but he had sold it to one of the biggest names in art investing. And he was going to reap many other benefits from it, too. I knew he was thrilled, and I was happy to give him a hand.

As he triumphantly headed back to gloat to his friends, I slipped away myself, heading toward the door of the gallery as quickly as I could. Now that I had what I wanted, there wasn’t any need to hang around and see what else there was in the center of the gallery.

I had just spent a nice bit of money, and now it was time to go back to my hotel room and think about where I wanted to put this new piece on display. It was going to have to be somewhere prominent. Somewhere special. I was happy with this piece. Happier than I had been with a lot of other pieces I’d purchased recently.

And now, it was time to plan where to put it.

Though, I felt I already had a rough location in mind.

Chapter 2

Lindsey

I was jolted awake by the sound of someone pounding on my door. Though I was in my dorm, it was enough to make my heart skip a beat before starting to race. I knew I was safe on campus, especially in the dorms. The campus police did a good job of keeping the whole campus secure, but after what I had been through back home, I was still on edge.

But, I could hear the voice on the other side of the door eagerly calling out my name as whoever it was continued to beat their hand against the door.

Come on! Lindsey! Open up! they called out.

I rubbed my eyes on my way over to the door, not bothering to open the blinds, though the lamp was still on. It was relatively dark in my room, but it was the pure exhaustion that had caught up with me that caused me to fall asleep.

I had been working insane hours, both to keep up with my tuition costs as well as to keep myself pushing forward in my degree. I wanted nothing more than to rise from all the trouble that I’d been in over the past few years and jump into a career I could be proud of.

But, the work was hard and the progress was slow. I tried to think about where I wanted to be in a few years, but the fact of the matter was that even though I had come so far, the schoolwork continued to pile up, and I still felt like I was falling behind.

I had to keep pushing forward, I had to get that degree and finally break free. Though I wasn’t the one to get myself into that trouble, I was still in it. And I was ready to get out.

Jorge!? I said in surprise as I pulled open the door. What’re you doing?

I have news for you! he beamed.

What is it? Man, come on, I’m studying! I groaned.

No, you weren’t, he said with a grin. You were asleep.

He looked over my shoulder and into the room, then back at me. I rolled my eyes and pulled the door the rest of the way open. Come on in then. But tell me what news you have that’s so important you had to come here to tell me.

It’s got something to do with you, so you’re going to be happy to hear it, he said. Trust me.

I’m listening, I told him.

Remember when you let me do that painting of you, and I said if I ever sold it I was going to give you twenty-five percent of whatever I made? he asked.

I nodded. He had managed to convince me to let him paint me when I told him I was short on cash. I wasn’t planning to let him, but then, the thought of making some extra money had been appealing. He made it clear to me I wasn’t going to get a lot, since he likely wasn’t going to get a lot, but anything would help considering the position I was in.

I would have been happy to get even a hundred dollars for the thing, though I wasn’t so sure someone would be willing to spend