Painted in Love (The Maverick Billionaires, Book 10)
Coming June 19, 2025
Could one secret destroy everything?
After years of working with artists to build their careers in a world where fame can exact a terrible price, billionaire Clay Harrington’s number one priority is to foster creativity and nourish artistic dreams through his innovative video platform. So when he agrees to mentor a former foster kid with raw talent, Clay is determined to find the young man’s hero, a legendary street artist named San Holo. In his wildest dreams, Clay never thought it would be so difficult to uncover the real identity of this elusive superstar. Until he discovers that the key to unlocking the artist’s identity might be sexy, brilliant Saskia Oliver.
When Saskia opens her door to the tall, handsome, and sexy-as-hell stranger, she can’t fight their immediate electric and irresistible attraction. But even after passionate kisses and seductive nights, she still can’t give Clay what he wants. She’s sworn to keep San Holo’s identity a secret no matter the cost…even if love is on the line.
When their two hearts and bodies collide like shooting stars, is there any way they can create a love that will last forever? Or will the cost of keeping secrets destroy any chance at having the love they’ve both craved for so long?
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Excerpt
Painted in Love
Maverick Billionaires, Book 10
© 2025 Bella Andre & Jennifer Skully
Chapter Two
Clay pushed open the door of Adrian Fielding’s building, stepping out on the San Francisco street bustling with business people, shoppers, and tourists.
His gaze seemed to zero in on only one woman. A gust of wind blew her long black hair across her face, and she swiped it back as she sipped from her coffee cup. She must have just left the café next door. A tall woman, her long flowery dress fell to her calves, and her black tunic sweater combatted the blustery April afternoon, all the high-rise buildings blocking the sun from reaching Market Street below. She wore black leggings and heavy Doc Marten lace-up boots, but the flowery dress tipped all that black into elegance. Or maybe the elegance simply shone off her, her hair reaching to the middle of her back, its strands like silk floating in the breeze. Her pouty lips pursed to take another sip from her cup, and he made out her high cheekbones and long eyelashes as she drew closer to him.
Her body was like one long drink of water.
Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, people flowing around him, Clay found himself entranced. He had no shortage of women in his life, most of whom were far more interested in his money than in him. It was mutually beneficial, each of them getting something out of the short-lived relationship. They received beautiful trinkets, and he got, well, what every red-blooded American male wanted. When it was over, everyone left satisfied. Anything more than casual wasn’t in his game plan. He had too much to accomplish to let a relationship get in the way. Relationships, and especially love, were all-consuming, taking a person’s eye off the goal. So he’d steered clear.
But looking at her, this woman he didn’t know, would probably never know, he felt the first flutter of desire. Not just for sex, but for something more.
The thought was almost enough to make him walk in the opposite direction. He might have done just that if he hadn’t seen her sidestep a gaggle of giggling teenage girls. Maybe she was concentrating on her coffee, enjoying that next sip, or maybe she was daydreaming, because she veered close to the curb. The girls fanned out, pushing her even nearer the street, and to avoid them, she made a move to step into the road.
The oncoming car didn’t slow down, even with a pedestrian so near.
He was about to shout a warning, but she never would have heard him over the city’s cacophony.
So Clay ran, his heart pounding with the fear that he wouldn’t make it in time. His vision narrowed to only the sight of her in the street, the car bearing down on her, and her complete lack of awareness.
Grabbing her arm, he hauled her back onto the sidewalk, the whoosh of the vehicle whipping her hair around her face, her coffee cup falling to land with a splat in the gutter.
Only then did she register the rear of the car as it raced past, and her words came out in a rush, panicked wheeze. “Oh my God.” She slapped a hand to her chest. “That car. I could have died.”
Clay was still breathing hard from the fear, from the near impact. From his touch on her arm. “It was one of those damned AVs.” As the car flashed by, he’d seen the empty driver’s seat through the passenger window.
She looked at him, dumbfounded. “AV?”
“An autonomous vehicle,” he translated.
She was breathing fast, a pink tinge rising to her cheeks. “Like one of those robotaxis from that old movie Total Recall?”
He nodded. “Only this one was going a lot faster.”
She glanced down the street after the retreating car. “I’d heard they were testing those things in the city. But that’s just crazy. Aren’t they supposed to sense when people are around?”
“Supposedly,” he scoffed. “But this one didn’t. It didn’t even have a passenger.”
“Maybe it was racing to pick up its next fare.” Then she laughed—that could have been nerves—and the musical sound reaching down deep inside him.
The thought of her crushed beneath that driverless car sent his pulse rate into the stratosphere. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She glanced at his hand on her arm. “I’m fine. Except for the bruise I think you’re leaving.”
He immediately let go. “I’m so sorry. I grabbed you because I didn’t think you’d hear me over the street noise.”
She smiled. It was like the sun and the moon and the stars shining all at once. “You’re right. I’d have looked around at the sound like a deer in the headlights.” Then she went up her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
It was a kiss like no other. He barely registered her words, feeling only the tingle of her lips against his skin. He thought of her Cupid’s bow mouth leaving red lipstick marks all over his body, even if she wore no lipstick. Her fragrant skin fogged his brain. Something sweet and fruity. Like peaches, and as delectable as her skin.
Then her lyrical voice broke through the delicious fog. “So, like, where can we report that car?”
He answered with complete honesty. “I have no idea. I didn’t even get a plate number.” Holding her chocolate-brown gaze, he added, “But I’ll find out.”
“Thank you for saving my life.” Her West Coast accent was as melodic as her laugh.
Had he been terrified she’d have a New York twang or a southern drawl? Though there was nothing wrong with either, they just wouldn’t suit her.
She laid her hand on his arm, as if she had to hold on just to stand up. “I need a stiff drink after that close call. Will you join me?”
His heart rate ratcheted up once again, not with fear but with need. “I will. Because if I hadn’t grabbed you—” He shuddered dramatically instead of saying that she’d have been flattened in the street.
That would have been the worst thing imaginable, to lose her before he even knew her name.
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