It hasn’t snowed in the last couple of days, but it is still damn cold outside.
This scene is cozy and inviting, and for a moment, I envision myself climbing onto the sofa next to her and pulling her onto my lap to snuggle against her perfect little body and steal her warmth while I trace kisses over her neck and listen to her giggle because it’s ticklish.
“How was your day?” I ask instead.
“It’s been quiet. I’ve been drawing, and now I’m reading.”
“What did you draw?” I ask, walking closer and standing near the fire to let its heat radiate against my back.
She reaches for her iPad and flicks it on, then holds it out for me to take.
I stare down at the drawing on the screen.
Beautiful digital paint textures, intricate shadows and minute details that all make up the figure of a naked woman floating in a vast darkness with her hair billowing around her as though she’s weightless. Her skin looks creamy and soft, and her lips are painted delicate rose pink.
“It’s exquisite,” I say, zooming in to view some of the details. “Did you just start this today? What was your reference?” I ask.
“No reference, just scribbling from my memory. Yes, I started it this morning.” She speaks casually, dismissing my awe.
“You are seriously talented. Maybe I could convince you to do a piece for my walls?” I hand the iPad back to her, genuinely stunned by her talent. I’ve seen pieces of her work before, but to know how causally and easily she is able to create them is a surprise.
“My work, hanging next to the famous artists you have up now? I don’t think so,” she laughs lightheartedly.
“Never underestimate yourself, Izabel. Your work is worthy of being next to any artist.”
“I don’t know. I look at it and see errors. I just do it for fun.”
“I’m going to convince you to do a commission for me.”
“No, you won’t,” she laughs.
“Just wait. It’ll happen,” I chuckle.
“How was your day at work?” she asks, changing the subject.
For a moment I am torn. Do I tell her? Do I keep it from her? She is no stranger to the mafia world, but is this something I should burden her with?
“There was an incident,” I sigh, walking over to the bar and pouring myself whiskey. “Do you want one?” I ask, holding up the bottle.
“You can pour me a Frangelico, please,” she says. “What incident?”
“One of my warehouses was attacked.”
I finish pouring the drinks, not giving more details until I hand her the glass and then sit down next to her with my body turned towards her. She shifts to face me, too. Her forehead is creased with a frown.
“Is everyone okay?” she asks.
“Yes, it wasn’t a big attack. More of an annoyance than anything else. The security team who was changing shift arrived ten or so minutes early, and I think they interrupted those assholes before they could do major damage. But the reason it pissed me off so much is because Yaroslav managed to find out who was behind it.”
I pause to sip my drink.
“Who was it?” she gasps, riveted.
“It was the same guy who tried to attack us and kidnap you from the gallery.”
Her mouth drops open. “Seriously?” she stammers. “That asshole is obviously pushing his luck. Is it someone you’ve had issues with before?”
“Pavel Gusev,” I say.
