She laughed at his honest response. She went to the shower to wash off the sea salt, strangely relishing the moments she had to herself. Having Sebastian intent on her in this way was overwhelming—and, she warned herself, temporary. Her empty fist clenched, remembering how good it had felt to have her fingers entwined with his. She couldn’t let this be more than what it was. She couldn’t let herself feel more than what she should.
Determined to keep a little of herself back from him this time, Sia put on a bright smile as she made her way out to the decking. The dress she’d chosen was forest-green with a thin shoulder strapped lace bodice that stopped just beneath her breasts and fell down to her ankles with silky skirts. She felt both Grecian and bohemian, her hair drying in thick waves from the shower and her feet bare.
As she reached the decking, Sebastian had his back to her, focusing on the steak he was cooking. The marinade smelt incredible, making her mouth water just as much as he had in the shower.
‘Would you pour the wine?’ Sebastian said without turning.
She reached for the red, noticing the label.
‘You know it?’ he asked.
‘Heard of it, never tasted,’ she replied of the Tersi branded Pinot Noir.
‘You couldn’t be tempted?’
‘I couldn’t afford it,’ she replied on a sigh as she poured out the light, fruity wine into two glasses. He really did live in a very different world to her, one that she doubted very much she belonged in.
She took a seat at the table, laid—as promised—with beautiful dishes, salads and vegetables, and smiled when Sebastian returned to the table victorious with two perfectly cooked steaks. Gentle conversation, the warmth of the wine, delicious food and the promise of later behind nearly every look or touch from Sebastian lulled Sia into a state of relaxed bliss.
As he gathered the plates and cleared the table, she looked out at the sun, lazily setting on the horizon, slashing ochre and burnt sienna across the division between sea and sky. It felt almost as if it could be just the two of them at the edge of the world. It was magical. And for the first time in what felt like years she had the urge to pick up a paintbrush. To capture the moment, the entire moment, the feeling as much as the view, the slight sense of tearing within in her between sadness and sheer joy.
‘You okay?’ Sebastian asked and she realised that he’d been sitting there for some time.
‘Yes. A nearly perfect day,’ she proclaimed.
‘Nearly?’ Sebastian countered, full of mock outrage.
She couldn’t help but think back to the start of the day. To his trip to the yacht and his explanation. I’m very good at spotting fakes.
‘What would your perfect day look like?’ he asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.
‘A private viewing of the Allegory of Fame by Artemisia Gentileschi,’ she replied without hesitation.
‘Really? Why that artist and painting?’
‘The artist is my namesake.’
‘Your full name is Artemisia?’ he asked, the shock in his voice almost amusing.
‘Yup. Try that on for size at primary school,’ she said, the sting of childhood taunts still sharp years on. Even more so after her father’s arrest.
‘You don’t like it?’
‘Hardly. I consider it his worst act of parental cruelty.’
‘Above getting arrested?’
‘Absolutely. It was about him. His favourite artist. His arrogance and obsession with the greats.’
Sebastian looked out at the sea, a slight frown on his brow.
‘You said your father named you after his favourite artist because of his arrogance?’ he asked, and she nodded. ‘Could it have been that he saw something in you, even as a baby, that reminded him of Artemisia?’
It was not something that Sia had considered before.
‘You know her story?’ Sebastian asked. ‘What she overcame to become one of the most accomplished Baroque painte
rs of the seventeenth century?’