Page 37 of Meet Mason, the Billionaire

“Yeah, those lips are property of Megan,” Sage said.

“I swear I’ll pay you back,” Junebug said sincerely.

“Don’t sweat it.”

“No, no, man, I feel like I owe you—I KNOW! I can paint you into one of my works.”

“If you insist,” Mason said. “But it’s really not necessary.”

“I just need to stop by my studio and grab some supplies.”

“By studio, you mean your mother’s guest room,” Golga snapped. “And by supplies you mean cans of spray paint.”

Howard slapped a hand over his face. “Good grief, Bug. You just got OUT of jail for graffiti. Do you really want to go back so soon?”

“Well, there was this big guy with a tattooed scalp who said he’d treat me like a princess—okay, okay, I get it. I’ll stop.”

Howard brandished his big, hairy fist one last time for good measure.

Mason cleared his throat. “If you’ll pardon the interruption, I think I have a solution for this little quandary.”

“Solution?” I looked at him. “No, Mason, you’ve done enough already.”

“I was just thinking it’s not vandalism if the owner of the building says it’s okay to spray paint on the wall?”

He grinned and Junebug’s jaw fell open.

“For real man? You own buildings?”

“A few,” Mason said with a shrug. “The one I’m thinking of is the Rafferty Hotel.”

“Oh, that’s that swank place with like an urban renaissance theme, right?” Howard asked.

“The same, though I think you’re overselling it a bit.”

“It’s a dream of a lot of us to get our artwork in a place like the Rafferty,” I whispered in Mason’s ear. “So try not to get anyone’s hopes up.”

“I’ll make sure not to do that,” he whispered back, squeezing my waist.

We piled into Mason’s limo. He seemed to be enjoying all the noise and mayhem the Old Bohemians brought to the mix.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” I asked, gesturing at all of the chaos.

“Totally. Do you know how empty and boring these things seem when you’re riding in them alone?”

“I thought that was the point.”

He shrugged. “Maybe for some people.”

“But if you don't like riding in limos, why do it at all?”

“I have to project a certain air of success. If I showed up everywhere in a compact car, the companies I invest in would think I was struggling financially, and the stock would take a dive.”

“Well, my friends sure appreciate your sacrifice.”

He chuckled, and put his arm around me. I noticed Sage looking at us. She offered a knowing wink, and my cheeks flushed red.

The limo took us to the Rafferty. It’s not a huge hotel, being only twenty stories tall and a rather thin blade of a building. However, it was within walking distance of over six major concert venues, hence its music/bohemian art theme. It was sort of one of those hipster hotels for people with money to spend but a desire not to have the same old big-box experience.

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