Álvarez led them through a set of tall, arched doors into an expansive gallery. Where the foyer was crowded with pieces, the triptych dominated an entire wall, displayed beneath dramaticlighting that cast the panels in warm gold and deep shadow. The original three works—Faith, Purity, and Obedience—were now joined by Temptation, completing the story.
Like a priest before an altar, veneration woven into every step, Álvarez advanced.
“You’ve staged it beautifully,” Rhys stated, appealing to his obsession. “Exactly as it deserves.”
“Yes, but the hunt is over,” he said, almost sadly. “I shall have to find another rare work to pursue, to feed my obsession.”
His attention drifted to Gaby, lingering and speculative. She didn’t doubt for a minute his next acquisition would be a new muse rather than another painting.
“I’m sure you’d like to refresh yourself after your travels. We have facilities for your muse. Unless you prefer her to stay with you?”
Outwardly, she remained composed, eyes lowered respectfully, posture perfect. Inside, she cringed as she imagined what those facilities might be. Gilded cages? Metal crates like Enzo had used for new “merchandise.” She’d been in one for longer than she cared to remember. Cold bars, no space to stand, treated like an animal.
Rhys didn’t hesitate. A faint, proprietary curve touched his mouth. “I’ll keep her with me.”
Álvarez gave a dismissive shrug. “Your muse. Your choice.” He clapped his hands twice, making Gaby jump. A uniformed housemaid appeared. “Show Mr. Blackwood to his suite.”
And his guest,she wanted to scream.A real person who can hear you.
But for Natalie, and the others who might be stored in the “facilities,” she dutifully followed her owner, reduced to inventory again. This time, without even a fake name. No one had spoken it through the interaction. Not even Rhys.
***
As soon as the suite door closed, Gaby pulled the combs from her hair. While she shook it loose, she took in the room without seeming to.
Rhys felt it before he saw it. A smoke detector that wasn’t. A pinprick of glass embedded in a ceiling beam, angled toward the bed.
She stepped toward him, her fingers sliding up his chest to unknot his tie. Her lips barely moved. “Suite’s hot.”
Good. She’d seen it too.
His hand moved to the small of her back—light, unremarkable—exactly what would be expected. “Bathroom,” he uttered low.
She didn’t argue.
The en suite was all marble, glass, and polished chrome. Rhys crossed to the shower and turned the water on full. It thundered against the tile, steam rising fast and thick, swallowing sound.
He scanned the ceiling vents, the recessed lighting, and the mirror. Monitoring the bathroom felt like overkill, but Álvarez didn’t do half measures.
“We can talk here,” he said quietly. “Assuming he hasn’t bugged the pipes, too.”
Without hesitating, Gaby reached for the clasp at the back of her dress and let it slide to the floor. Not seduction. This was the role.
Every line and gentle curve of her body drew him in as she stepped out of her panties and into the stall. Steam veiled and revealed in equal measure. She glanced back once, brows lifting slightly, then moved beneath the spray.
He stripped and followed.
The moment she put her hands on his chest, the air changed. Not because of the touch. Because of the awareness behind it.
“If they’re watching,” she said softly, “they’ll expect you to follow through.”
Her voice was steady. Her eyes were not.
“I won’t ask that of you,” he replied.
She searched his face. “You’re not asking. I told you once—I’ll do anything for Natalie.”
When he held still, she took the initiative and started to drop to her knees.
