I’d have wolf whistled if I didn’t think she’d slap me.
Two or three years ago, she’d been in New York. On my turf. I’d gone to one of her shows. Had tried to catch a glimpse of her but had failed.
I could admit to myself I’d been chickenshit.
I knew what I’d tossed away, knew what I could never get back, and coming face to face with my failure had been shitty, so I’d cut off thoughts of her in my mind.
Seeing her art had made me come to terms with the woman she was today, letting my memories fade away even as I could see the girl in the artist. In the hope and the idealism, in the longing and the anger. I saw a need to rebel against dictates from an oppressive system, I saw a need to clash with anyone who’d try to stop her from doing what she wanted.
Yet, here she was.
Rolling over for the O’Donnellys.
And she’d carry on doing that because she knew what was at stake.
A man had to appreciate a smart woman. Even if those smarts were what would have said smart woman chopping off his dick and serving it to him for supper.
“We’ll move into a brownstone I own,” I told her gruffly, “if you don’t like this place.”
She scowled at me. “If you have two buildings here in the city, then I can live in one, and you can live here and we can—”
“What? Split Shay? No fucking way, baby girl. No fucking way. I already missed out on too much of my kid’s life, not gonna miss out on anymore.” I smiled at her though, fucking proud that she’d try to pull that shit on me.
Maybe I should be angry, but I loved that mouth of hers.
Enough that I didn’t just want it around my cock.
She heaved a sigh as we made it into my bedroom, and even though I didn’t doubt she’d sneaked a peek in here before I’d returned home, she did some more snooping before I took her to the foot of the bed.
It was a nightmare, honestly. The bed was low to the ground, inset, which made getting out of it and into it hell on earth with my wounds. I wasn’t about to ask Shay or her for help, but it was why I spent most of my time on the futon in the living room.
The bedroom was all clean lines, because that was how I needed it. The bed with its simple linens, two shadedchochinlights that were dim, and behind me, a massive tapestry that provided most of the color in the room. It was of an enormous water dragon and had cost me over three hundred thousand to buy at an auction. Of course, if it had been at Sotheby’s, it’d have cost six times more…
Over by the window, there was a seating area with a low table and gray cushions that were comfortable for lounging on. I liked to sit there and take my coffee in the morning, watch the world rise with me. But again, everything was so goddamn close to the ground that using any of it was impossible. Where a window seat would be, I had a low-level shelf with more priceless artifacts on there than anyone in my family could even register.
I had a problem.
I knew it.
No one else did.
No one but Aela after she saw what I was going to show her.
It had started when I was young. Just small ornaments, little pieces here and there, but it had grown into an obsession.
Over five million dollars’ worth of art in the form of ceramics, small antique jade pieces, and even a Ming presentation dish that was over seven hundred years old sat on the shelf in front of the window. Of course, I hadn’t paid five mil. Didn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. Didn’t mean it didn’t give me a boner when I looked at it.
Well, not at the moment. Only Aela’s ass was capable of that right now.
And her tits.
Couldn’t forget her tits.
Opposite my bed was where I kept the good stuff.
My jaw worked as I pressed a button on the wall. It was made to look like an AC console, but it was actually the key to opening my safe. She didn’t know what I was showing her, didn’t know that I’d kill anyone who found this stuff.
Didn’t know that, by revealing this to her, I was showing her my trust.