“I want to fix a few of the seams. But you can take it off and it will be ready when you go,” Edgar said.

“Thank you,” I said.

He nodded then left. When he returned, he looked at me with a little smile on his face. “Gayane says you should go upstairs. Your lady is arguing with her,” he said.

I nodded and dressed quickly, anxious to get upstairs to see what was going on.

Kayla didn’t argue with anyone but me.

I hurried up the stairs and found Kayla standing there in her underwear.

The upstairs was much different than Edgar’s work area, all velvet chairs and mirrors and bright lights.

“What are you doing in here? I’m not dressed,” she said sharply.

“Are you arguing with Gayane?”

Kayla didn’t answer, but Edgar’s wife did. “Yes, Mr. Petrosyan. She’s demanding to know how much the dress costs.”

“Does it matter?” I asked, looking at Kayla.

“I told her it wasn’t her concern, but she demanded to know,” Gayane said.

I patted her on the shoulder. “It’s fine. Please just do what you need to.”

“Elias, if I’m going to buy this stuff, I need to…”

She looked nervous, genuinely nervous, and I was both amused and annoyed by that.

“Kayla, you’re being disrespectful. Leave it to your husband to handle these matters,” I said.

“I don’t have a husband, Elias,” she said pointedly.

“Not at the moment. But the principle stands. Now don’t be impolite to Gayane. Finish getting your dress. We have other things to do,” I said.

She looked like she wanted to argue but then looked at Gayane and softened.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she finally whispered.

I chuckled, letting her have the small victory since I had my much bigger one.

She was down in fifteen minutes and got into the waiting SUV.

“What is all this about?” she said, her dark eyes on me.

“You have to get ready for tonight,” I said.

“I have to get ready to watch reruns on TV?”

“No. That’s not what you’ll be doing tonight. You are going to attend an art gallery opening,” I said.

“With who?”

I laughed, the confusion on her face adorable.

“With me, of course,” I said.

She tilted her head. “Elias, I wouldn’t say I know your soul, but you don’t strike me as an art fan.”

She probably knew more of my soul than I cared to admit, but I kept that to myself.

Instead, I said, “You’re correct. I don’t give a shit about art. But in this case, this art gallery is the perfect way to clean some cash. So I’m going to check it out for myself.”

“Okay,” she said, her deep sigh of relief annoying me. “Why don’t you just say so. If it’s business, I’m prepared.”