He leans in, a half-smile playing at his mouth. “You’re even more beautiful when you talk about what sets your soul on fire.”

The compliment is unexpected. I try to brush it off with a small shake of my head, but my pulse betrays me, quickening.

We aren’t moving on from what happened in that hotel room. Not really. It’s still there between us, crackling under the surface, daring one of us to be reckless enough to reach for it again. This—whatever this is—is not business. It’s a slow flirtation with disaster, and we’re both playing along like we don’t know better.

I give him a look that’s intended to be stern, but I think it comes off more like playful. “You’re terrible at keeping things professional.”

“You’re not exactly discouraging me, sweetheart.” He smirks, not even pretending to apologize. “If you really wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t be smiling right now.”

He’s right, and worse? He knows he’s right.

We linger a moment longer at the last canvas, both of us quieter now, something unspoken hanging between us.

Ty clears his throat and shifts into business mode, pointing out the pieces he wants to purchase for the hotel. I keep my focus sharp, professional, helping to handle the arrangements without missing a beat.

Transactions are handled, signatures scrawled, everything finalized.

We step out of the gallery, and I still feel the buzz of the evening clinging to me. The night air is crisp, a stark contrast to the heat simmering beneath my skin.

“That was productive.”

“It was. Thank you for coming with me.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

He walks beside me, his hand settling at the small of my back. It’s a quiet, possessive touch that sends a ripple of awareness through me. I should pull away, but I don’t.

We turn to walk down a side street, the quiet stretching between us like something tangible, something waiting to break. The city hums in the distance, but here, in the dim light between buildings, it seems like another world.

Then he stops.

Before I can react, his fingers curl around my wrist, tugging me back. My breath catches as he pulls me into the narrow alley between two buildings, pressing my back against the brick wall, the rough texture biting through the thin fabric of my dress.

He’s close. Too close. The air between us turns electric, humming with something unspoken, something inevitable.

His eyes flick down to my mouth. “You want me to stop?”

My pulse pounds, my body betraying me.

I shake my head… because I can’t form a single word.

His lips crash against mine, claiming, devouring. Heat surges through me, curling low in my belly as his hands grip my waist, pressing me closer. I melt into him, into the sharp angles of his body, the rough scrape of his stubble against my skin.