The painting continued to dry in a safe room so it wouldn’t be knocked or touched, and once that process was complete, I would finally have it for my own. I didn’t take pictures on my phone because a camera couldn’t capture a feeling the way a painting could. Paint was superior to pixels.

I lay on my side with her on her back beside me, my hand resting on her flat stomach, spanning the entirety of it from her hips to her breasts. Words hadn’t been spoken. Only looks had been exchanged.

Her hand moved to my face, her fingertips feeling the scruff of my jawline, rubbing against the hair to feel its coarseness. Everything about me was rough—except her. She was the boutonniere to my tux. She was the flowers to my vase. She was the clouds to my sky. The sunshine to my winter.

Her hand cupped my cheek, and she leaned in to give me a soft kiss. Spontaneous and affectionate, it gave me a warmth even though the sex was finished. It was a kiss for no reason—and those were my favorite from her. She told me she loved me without actually saying it. Actions spoke louder than words, and those were the actions that affected the beat of my heart.

A knock sounded on the door. “Sir? Sorry to disturb you, but Magnus is here. Shall I let him know you’ll be down in a moment?”

I kept my eyes on the treasure beside me, the possession worth more than everything I had earned in the last decade. Like a fire-breathing dragon guarding its hoard of treasure, I watched over her, never wanting to leave her, not for a moment. “Yes.”

I got out of bed and pulled on my sweats.

She sat up too, her dress a mess around her, her panties on the floor. She watched me go.

I made it down the flights of steps and through the foyer. His back was to me, a glass of scotch in hand. He looked out the window to the pool in the rear as he took a drink. “You’ve nearly recouped our losses.”

He kept his gaze out the window. “The women are working longer.”

“You’ve negotiated more product?” I came to his side and looked out the window alongside him. Gilbert wordlessly placed a glass of scotch in my hand and silently dismissed himself. Magnus had successfully put everything back in order ahead of schedule, so my rage had dulled significantly. I was also less angry in general—because she’d come back to me.

He was quiet for a long time, as if preparing for a long-winded answer, but this response came out short. “Yes.”

“What’s the fee?”

“No fee.”

I slowly turned my head his way.

He kept his eyes forward.