“Thank you.”
I stride to him and wrap him in my arms, careful not to crumple or crease the drawing as I slam my lips to his. He squeaks and slumps in my arms, so I drop the drawing and tighten my grip to hold him upright and break the kiss.
“Don’t stop.” His words are slurred, but his eyes beg me to continue.
I hesitate, unsure if I should while he’s vulnerable.
“Green,” he whispers.
For a second, I wonder why he’s using a safeword. We’re not in a scene, and we definitely don’t have the sort of relationship where we’re permanently in Dominant and submissive roles. And yet I realise he’s right to do it. At this moment, I hold all the power.
Trusting him, I kiss him again, no less fervently than before. Then I hug him tight, cup his face, and stroke the spot behind his ear until I feel him shift his weight from me to his own feet.
He smiles brightly. “Thank you. Beau?”
I kiss his forehead and nod. “Beau.”
I pick the drawing off the floor, relieved that it’s none the worse for wear for being mishandled. After dropping it off in my room, we go downstairs to find Beau. He’s in the kitchen, sharing hob space with Preston as they cook two separate meals, while Fraser and Theo sit at the table, chatting.
“Oh, hi,” Beau says, turning. “I’m making risotto. Do you want some? There will be enough for four.” He smiles smugly.
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Are you snubbing my cooking?”
“He’s an excellent cook,” Fraser says. “But if Stefan doesn’t want any, that means I get to have leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”
“It’s a bit early for me to eat,” I explain. “I’ll cook something for myself later before I go to work.”
“Quinn?” Beau asks. “Do you want some?”
“No, thanks.”
I scratch my stubble. “Actually, I was wondering if we could talk.”
Beau lifts his chin. “Sounds serious. Is everything okay?”
“Do you want us to go?” Preston asks.
“After dinner is fine,” I say. “Come find me when you’re done.”
Quinn comes with me as I back out of the room and go into the empty lounge instead. We’ve barely sat down when Beau and Fraser trail in after us.
“Theo is going to keep an eye on the risotto for me,” Beau says. “What’s up?”
I lean forward onto my knees. “I heard from the private investigator earlier.”
Beau’s eyebrows shoot up. “Already? I know you said it could take anything from days to weeks, but I was expecting the latter.”
“Me too.”
Fraser touches Beau’s arm and motions to the spare sofa. They sit.
“Have they found Mum?”
I nod.
Beau’s face tenses. “You don’t look happy. Is something wrong? Is she…?”
