I stood at the opposite end of the couch and stared at the side of his face, the dark beard that he hadn’t bothered to shave. He usually shaved every morning and got a shadow by the evening. But now, he’d stopped altogether. His dark eyes were focused on something on the wall.

I followed his gaze to the painting.

The portrait of me.

Glowing in the firelight.

There had been another painting there before, but he’d replaced it with mine, so he could stare at it whenever he felt like it, could admire my face even when I was just down the stairs from him.

He turned his chin slightly and regarded me. Longing had replaced anger. Love had replaced hate. Desire had replaced solitude.

A flood of emotion swept through me as I moved to the couch and took the seat beside him. My hand went to his thigh.

His arm moved around my shoulders.

I shifted closer to him and got into his lap.

He brought his face close to mine and closed his eyes.

We sat together in silence, our bodies at ease now that they were reunited, our hearts returning to their peaceful pace.

It reinforced my belief.

That the man and the boss were two different people.

He would release my sister.

And eventually…everyone else.

Twelve

Mon amour

Fender

We sat across from each other inside the restaurant. It was a round table near the window, covered in a white tablecloth with a small vase of roses in the center. The lights were dim, but the chandelier still cast a glow on her perfect face.

In blush pink, she wore a beautiful sweetheart neckline dress, her décolletage sparkling with diamonds. Her collarbone had a distinct outline, as did her petite shoulders, so slender that the segment of muscle was visible. Her fair skin was kissable. Her full lips were kissable, too. Men couldn’t resist a glance. When they stared too long, I stared back.

It was as if nothing had happened.

We went back to our lovemaking.

Our quiet evenings were spent wrapped around each other in silence.

Whether she really loved me or not, it didn’t change the way I felt about her. Whether she meant a word of anything she said to me, it didn’t change anything either. Nothing would ever change it.

I loved her—beyond reason.

She took a bite of her dinner then slowly chewed as she looked at me.

I had to leave in the morning, so I appreciated her beauty even more.

She returned her utensils to her plate and gave me a long stare. “Why do you love me?”

Her question soaked into my mind for a long time, but a response was never formed. “Because I do.”

“If there’s no reason, how do you know it’s real?”