The Tyrant Billionaire

Hepburn's eyes widened in surprise.

"Just… just the two of us?"

"Yes, just the two of us."

Hepburn's long lashes began to flutter nervously, hinting at her inner tension.

But what did the blush on her cheeks mean?

Finally, the painting was finished after more than two hours. It was an A3-sized watercolor. The artist examined his work and seemed very satisfied.

"Sir, beautiful lady, the painting is finished. Please take a look and see if you're satisfied," the painter said in Italian.

Hardy looked at Hepburn.

"He says the painting is done and wants us to check if we're happy with it," Hepburn translated.

Hardy and Hepburn stood up, walked behind the painting, and looked at the artwork. It was a realistic depiction of them sitting at the café table, with the slightly blurred backdrop of the temple-lined street. Hardy's profile was depicted handsomely, though only someone familiar with him might recognize it.

Hepburn's face, on the other hand, was more prominently featured, with over 70% of her features displayed. Her slightly curled short hair, slender neck, and delicately sculpted features were perfectly captured, her skin radiantly smooth.

In the painting, Hepburn appeared elegant and pure yet lively and vivid.

Her eyes were particularly striking, almost lifelike. This was what Hardy appreciated most. In the painting, the man seemed to be speaking with his mouth slightly open, while Hepburn rested her hand against her face, her eyes intently focused on the man. Her gaze carried a hint of admiration.

Hepburn was pleased with the painting.

Hardy was even more pleased.

He loved how her painted gaze looked at him—it gave him an immense sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Hardy turned to Hepburn. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

"It's beautifully done. I think it looks even prettier than me," Hepburn said with a smile.

"Ask him how much the painting costs."

Hepburn asked the painter in Italian, and the painter replied with a number. Hepburn turned to Hardy. "He says it's $30."

The painter, though he didn't speak English, was well-versed in dollars. He preferred them over Italian lira, as the dollar was the strongest currency at the time.

Hardy took out $100 from his pocket and handed it to the painter. "I'm very satisfied with your work. The extra is a tip."

Hepburn translated for him.

The painter's face lit up with joy, and he thanked Hardy profusely, even grabbing Hardy's hand and kissing it. He then turned to Hepburn and kissed her hand as well.

Hardy strongly suspected the painter did this just to kiss Hepburn's hand.

After handing the painting to Hardy, the painter packed his things and prepared to leave. But Hardy signaled to Hepburn to stop him and gestured towards the distance. Soon, a man in a suit approached—it was the security team leader stationed nearby.

"Mr. Hardy."

Hardy pointed to the painter. "I recall Hardy Group has an art acquisition company in Rome. Tell them to acquire his other works."

"And also, have him enlarge this piece into an oil painting, something suitable for a grand hall display," Hardy said as he handed the painting to the security team leader.

The painter looked puzzled and turned to Hepburn.

Hepburn translated, "This gentleman owns an art acquisition company in Rome and is interested in buying your other works. Would you be willing?"

The painter's face lit up with excitement.

His poverty had driven him to paint portraits on the street, as he couldn't sell his works elsewhere. Now, the prospect of someone acquiring his art thrilled him. He couldn't believe he had encountered a big-shot art collector. He grabbed Hardy's hand again and kissed it passionately.

The security team leader eventually had to drag him away by the collar.

Hepburn couldn't stop laughing at the scene. Italians were known for their abundance of artists and their comedic flair—this was a well-accepted fact globally.

"Mr. Hardy, by purchasing his paintings, you might have saved his life," Hepburn said, looking at Hardy.

Hardy looked at her seriously. "His work is excellent. Many painters create beautiful art but never get a chance to gain recognition." Discover exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire

"But I'm confident he'll become famous in the future."

Hepburn looked surprised.

"Why are you so sure he'll become famous?" she asked.

"Because of the painting he just made!"

"That painting? Why?"

"Because of the people in it. That girl will become one of the most renowned stars in the U.S. and even the world, a symbol of her era. And the man? He'll be a financial tycoon commanding global influence."

"Their story in Rome will become a classic, and that painting will bear witness to it. As a result, the painting will inevitably become famous, and through it, so will the painter."

"Pfft~!"

Hepburn burst out laughing.

Only then did she realize Hardy was boasting shamelessly.

That was her innocent interpretation.

What she didn't know was that Hardy had countless ways to make the painter famous. The painter's talent was solid, and with a little promotion, he could become a so-called master. Investing in his works now would bring Hardy immense returns later.

...

Nighttime. By the fountain.

Hepburn lay on a bench, pretending to be asleep.

The two of them were rehearsing the first scene where the male and female leads meet in the movie.

Hardy softly called out to the girl. Hepburn groggily woke up, then groggily followed Hardy. A car arrived to pick them up, taking them to a residential house. Hepburn, still in a daze, followed him upstairs.

When opening the door, Hepburn kept swaying, forcing Hardy to simultaneously open the door and support her. The scene was a little comical.

Finally, the door opened. Hardy carried Hepburn inside. At that moment, her body visibly stiffened, but Hardy quickly laid her on the bed.

The bedding smelled of sunshine—clean and fresh.

A minute passed.

Two minutes.

Hepburn peeked through a small slit in her eyes and saw Hardy pouring wine.

Phew~!

Hepburn exhaled softly, relieved.

"Want to get up and have a drink?" Hardy asked.

"Can I wake up now?" Hepburn asked with her eyes closed.

"Of course. We're moving on to the next scene."

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