We have time. There’s no rush. Whoever threatened him will still be alive for me to kill tomorrow.
“Let’s get dressed,” I tell him. “And if you feel up to it, I can show you the grounds.”
Ansel nods, wrapping the towel around himself and following me into the bedroom. The sheets have been changed, and I see that a few piles of clothes sit on the edge of the mattress.
Ansel looks up at me questioningly, so I explain. “I asked Harley to bring you some clothes that you’d like. I hope they fit. Harley’s taste is different from yours, but hopefully they’ll do for now.”
He runs his hands over the piles and then peers at one of the tags hanging from a shirt. “What the fuck? This is way too expensive.”
I frown, looking down at the price tag. “Is it?”
Ansel steps back, shaking his head rapidly. “It is. Good god. I can’t wear this. It’s more than my monthly electric bill.”
I purse my lips, trying to decide whether or not to fight this. Ansel’s going to have to get used to being spoiled by me. Buying gifts is my love language. “Okay, if you don’t want to wear them, you can go around naked, then.”
His lips part, and he stares at me for a long time. “Ugh. Fine, but I’m paying you back for this. I won’t accept expensive gifts from you. Or Harley. Or anyone in this family.”
I don’t argue. He’ll come around eventually. He has a concussion right now. He’s just not thinking straight at the moment.
“Fine,” I say as I pull on my own clothes—jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. When I stand next to him, the two of us fully clothed, I let my gaze roam over his body and sigh. “I would have preferred to keep you naked.”
He rolls his eyes and then strides toward the door. “You gonna show me around or what?”
“You feeling up to it?”
“Yes, at the moment I am.”
I reach down and take his hand in mine. “All right. Come on, and tell me if you need a break. I can carry you.”
He grunts at that and then allows me to tug him forward.
I lead him out of the room and down a long hallway, explaining that most of the rooms here are for guests, for the parties that Wylder hosts. He hates them, but as the head of the family, he can’t really escape it.
If he had his way, I think he’d be content to live as a hermit. I bet he’d even grow a beard and have a vegetable garden, but as our childhood dictated, we weren’t allowed to be anything my father didn’t like.
And my father hated beards and vegetables.
Ansel walks next to me silently, taking it all in, so I continue on, my strides slow, going into the backstory of some of the paintings hanging on the walls. Paintings we’ve acquired over time, some from auctions and some in more nefarious ways.
Suddenly, he draws to a stop, his eyes wide. “Wait, holy shit. Is that a Van Gogh?”
My silence speaks volumes.
Ansel gasps. “Oh my god! That’s one of the ones that’s missing. The poppy one. I know I’ve seen that before.”
My lips twitch as I put my hands into my pockets. “Perhaps it was never missing, just never found.”
“That makes no sense.” He bounces on his toes suddenly. “Fuck, please tell me you have the Rembrandt one too.”
I chuckle, spinning him around so he’s facing the painting in question. He squeals, bouncing again. Makes me wonder what noises he’ll make when he’s bouncing on my cock.
I adjust myself in my pants. “How do you know so much about stolen—I mean, missing art?”
Ansel doesn’t notice my predicament, which is good consideringhe’s supposed to be resting. “Oh, a few years back, I went down a rabbit hole for, like, an entire week. Decided I’d be the one to find them. Never did get anywhere. Really sent me on a spiral.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “I thought my hacking skills weren’t that great.”
