“What do you mean?” Ares frowns, then glances down at my hand and takes it in his, warming my chilled skin. Only then do I realize I’m shaking.
“They’re pieces that were put into the private, climate-controlled storage. Mom never sold or gave them away, and so their ownership came to me. Exceptthey’re here.”
He tenses. “Doris stole them?”
“Probably. Mom gave her some for birthdays and I think once on Christmas, but the ones on the walls here weren’t gifted to anybody. Ballsy, isn’t it? Doris is trying to sell my mother’s paintings in L.A.,knowing I’m here in the city. It’s like she’s daring me to call her on it.”
“The auction won’t stop unless you can prove ownership.”
“I know.” And that’s the only reason I’m not making a scene right now. Doris is likely ready to show she has the legal rights to sell these paintings. And given how weird Nesovia’s laws are—with complex guardianship for unmarried women—it might even look like she’s in the right. If an American court recognized her as the legal owner, it’d be very difficult for me to get the paintings back. I need to be ready before I fight.
You never fire the first shot unless you know you can win decisively.
With a soft pang in my heart, I step forward and look at a pencil sketch of a little girl making a sandcastle on the beach. I don’t need to read the description attached underneath to recognizeMy Love on the Beach.
“You?” Ares gestures.
“Yup. Building a castle so I could have a kingdom of my own to rule. I was always an ambitious child.” The memory brings a smile. It’s one of the happiest moments of my life.
He squeezes my hand. “Not ambitious. Regal.”
I laugh softly.
He grows serious. “Is it also stolen?”
“Not sure. Mom gave it to Dad on Father’s Day, and I think he later gave it to Grandfather. I don’t know what happened afterward, so it’s possible it was legitimately sold or transferred.” I pull out my phone and scan the QR code next to the sketch. An overview pops up, explaining that it’s owned by Orville Black’s estate. “Okay, not stolen for sure. Orville was Mom’s cousin. He was one of the nicest men ever. Always carried me on his shoulders so I could feel tall.” I smile fondly. “I heard he passed away three years ago, but never got to attend the funeral. His widow probably wants to cash out.” Although I was little when we spent time together, I understood instinctively that Orville never had a lot of money. He was rich in friends and family. His wife might need to sell the sketch to make ends meet in her old age, and I don’t begrudge her for it.
Out of all the works, this is the only one I can be certain isn’t stolen. Not only that, I want it desperately. It’s the simplest sketch, but all the more precious for that. It captures a spontaneous moment in my childhood when I was happy and loved unconditionally. I turn to Ares. “I want this one. No matter what it costs, I have to have it.”
His eyes flare with something like surprise and heat. “Say that again.”
“I want it.” I keep my eyes on his. “No matter the cost.” I place my hand over his chest, where his heart thumps hard against my palm. “Get it for me? Please?”
His pulse quickens, beating wildly. “I love it when you turn to me for what you want.” He puts his hand at the small of my back and pulls me close, creating our own private cocoon in the midst of all the people in the exhibition hall. “You’re hot when you’re direct and demanding.”
“Hot enough for you to give me whatever I ask for?”
“Absolutely,” he says.
I look up at his darkening eyes, need for him heating my body. When he gazes at me like I’m the center of his universe, I feel like I matter. And I want him to feel the same sense of importance.
Rub him like a genie. Yuna’s laughing suggestion flashes through my mind.
I surreptitiously run my hand over him.Oh, hello.His cock is already hard. I smile up at him like a siren. “And I love it when you show me whatyouwant.”
He lowers his head until his mouth is at my ear. “Jesus, do that again,” he says huskily, his breath hot against the sensitive skin.
I run my hand over him, and his breathing breaks. Thrill sizzles. The knowledge that the simplest touch can make this large, powerful man shudder with need sparks excitement. And a sense of my own power.
“Yuna said something about rubbing one’s husband like a genie to get what you want,” I tease, then stroke him again.
“She’s wrong,” he says. “You’re supposed to lick the genie.”
I laugh softly. “We’ll get arrested before I get to licking,” I whisper in his ear. “Not even your brilliant legal arguments will keep us out of jail.”
He chuckles, his eyes hot. “Don’t worry. I’d never let you spend a single minute in jail.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
