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“You’re going to see Katrina,” he states with a half chuckle. “No one may notice this time, but soon, people will talk about her making you soft.”
My eyes flare along with my nostrils. “You forget your place again.”
Mikhail puts his hands in his pockets. “Someone needs to be able to speak their honest mind to you, cousin. Otherwise, we’ll all become yes men, and you’ll have no real council.” He raises his hand in surrender, even though I actually—albeit begrudgingly—agree with his statements. “You don’t need to worry about me ever saying you’re going soft again.”
Katrina
Demetrihassurprisedmewith a date, and my heart nearly melts to the ground when I see our driver has pulled us up to an art gallery. My husband takes my hand in his and leads me into the gorgeous building, which has large windows allowing natural light to span most of the area.
I pause, looking out the glass front of the gallery. A normal-looking woman walks down the sidewalk with her ear glued to her phone. A man cuts in front of her, looking like he’s in a rush. And something about the moment makes me realize—I’ve never wanted anormallife, like I thought. I’ve been searching for something else entirely.
I just wanted to be happy. “Normal” would never keep me satisfied. Right now, I’m happy, and my heart is full.
Demetri is looking delicious in his jeans and dress shirt. His sleeves are in his signature rolled-up position, showcasing his muscular forearms. He’s watching me with a twinkle in his eye, and I’m addicted to his attention. A blush slowly creeps into my cheeks as I look at him, and feeling silly for my reaction, since I’ve had this man’s baby and ammarriedto him, I pull my eyes away to the art on the walls.
“Are those my paintings?” I gasp, unable to hide my excitement. An entire wall is covered with my works. I rush over to them, my hand going out to touch one, but then I stop myself. I don’t want the owner getting mad about someone touching their collection.
Demetri stands behind me, his arms wrapping around me in a gentle hold. Relaxing, I rest my head back on his chest.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“I miss painting,” I admit. I long to paint again and dream of one day owning another gallery. It’s the only thing missing from my life, but that makes me feel greedy, since I already have more than I ever imagined in life.
“What about the gallery?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“No, I mean, do you miss your gallery?”
My lips twist as I consider the question. “Yes and no. I would never want to own another gallery unless it was done my way. My family had too much freedom to use it to their advantage. If I ever have one again, I want it to be known for the art, not for a way to funnel money through it.”
“Then that’s what you will do.”
“You make it sound so easy. I have no money to set something like this up.” The dream is nice though.
“But I do.”
I turn in his arms to see if he’s being serious. “I could never accept that.” My heart beats harder at just the thought of having something called mine.
“That’s disappointing…”
I couldn’t agree more. But it needs to be done right if I ever do it again. I place a kiss on the tip of his nose as I go up on the tips of my toes.
“…because this is yours to do whatever you want with.”
My breath stills. In my head, I replay what he said, trying to comprehend if he’s implying what I think he is. “Don’t joke with me, Demetri. It’s not funny. You heard my brother. He sold all of my paintings.” I gesture toward the wall of my work I no longer own.
“To me.” His smile is big, his eyes ever so serious. “When I heard they were selling everything, I couldn’t let it all be split apart. I needed something of you when you were nowhere to be found.”
“Why would you do this for me?”
“Because I want to be the one who keeps you happy.”
“I don’t know what to say.” My mouth stays open in awe. How am I suddenly so lucky? My eyes dart around the gallery. I don’t know if I should allow myself to believe him, because as soon as I do, that’s when I can be let down. It’s a scary thought.
“Say you’re happy and accept my gift.” His eyes search mine.
I’m overwhelmed with gratitude and toss my arms around his neck. “Thank you. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever gifted me.” I kiss his warm, scruffy cheek.
