“How does it feel?” I whispered. “The colorblindness?”
She grinned, dropping the paper. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to ask.”
I shrugged. “It’s easy to forget. You don’t seem bothered by it.”
She undulated her hips in a tease. “If you’ve only experienced the world one way, it’s difficult to imagine it being different.”
I brushed my knuckle against one of her nipples before grasping under her breasts and around her ribcage.I pulled her toward me, sucking a nipple into my mouth and teasing itwith my tongue.
Her breath hitched before she elaborated. “It makes things easy to understand, I suppose.” She moaned and I released her nipple. “With my anxiety, I think it helps to see things in black and white. Less distraction. I imagine color can distract sometimes, am I right?”
I left a trail of wet kisses across her collarbone. Unbeknownst to her, I’d adjusted the TV in our room to black and white, wanting to see things as she did. It was simpler, calmer in her world. The woman, her journey, her story—all were things I loved. Warmth spread through me at the thought.
“I love you,” I whispered, leaving her question unanswered. Colorwasa distraction, and she was the rainbow.
She opened her mouth to reply, but I stopped her by nibbling on her bottom lip. I’d prevented her from saying it, not wanting her to speak the words until it felt so acute and painful to hold them in, that the words themselves became a pleasurable release.
She brought the building schematics between us again to punish me, her cheeks flushed. “So we’re going to enter via the fire escape?”
My brow rose. “What’s wrong with that?”
She pouted. “I was hoping for something more exciting, moreJames Bond. Blow a hole in the building’s side with explosives, or drive a sports car through the wall or something.”
We shook as I chuckled beneath her. “You’d be disappointed to learn how uneventful these things are.”
She tilted her head. “Do you think he’ll shoot at us? Do we needbulletproof vests?”
It was concerning how excited this thought seemed to make her. “I have vests,” I assured. “But no, I doubt there will be shooting. I think they like each other enough not to kill each other, or us. I guess he’s made that clear to her? Like some sort of rules of engagement they’ve agreed on. It still doesn’t sit right. He has mafia ties, and that won’t help me sleep better at night.”
Sybil narrowed her eyes over the top of the schematic. “Just because he has a shitty mafia family doesn’t mean he’s in alignment with that.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t jump to that conclusion, but if you were me and your job was to protect your family, you’d think it, too.”
“She does like him a lot,” Sybil confessed. “She’s given me all the juicy details. Maybe he deserves a chance.”
A growl rumbled in my chest. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“No? Protective big brother doesn’t like the idea of someone else wanting to take care of Betty?”
I glowered at her. “No, I don’t like you taking her side over mine.”
“Listen, from what I’ve heard, it takes a lot to keep your sister happy and engaged in a relationship. I think he can do that. Look at how much effort he’s putting in. I know you feel responsible for her, but she’s a smart woman. I trust her opinion.”
“Beeisa handful,” I agreed. “It’d take a clever guy to catch her, so I guess it’s not shocking that he’s a criminal mastermind, thief,andformer mobster. Checks all the boxes on herdating profile, I’m sure.”
She laughed. “How’s your dad holding up?”
Her change of subject was a good thing. I really didn’t enjoy talking about my sister’s dating life.
I placed a hand behind my head as it rested on the headboard. “About as well as one could be in his position. He proclaimed that all future auctions will no longer include the physical piece in person. He’s shifting to an appointment-based viewing system in the vault itself, guarded. Each client has to be vetted before entering. From now on, only a select group of trusted people, like Bee and me, will handle items in and out of the vault. This change is also putting more strain on the restoration department. They’ve beefed up security measures there as well.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, Bee mentioned that. She seems annoyed with it.”
“She’s annoyed with everything,” I quipped.
“And you decided not to tell your dad about me, or rather, PERL?” she pressed, running a finger down the center of my chest.
“No.” She’d given me permission to tell him, but I was nervous letting another person in on her secret, even if it was my father. One day, perhaps, when all this blew over and he retired. Right now, a $50-million stolen painting was too raw for him to handle this news on top of it.
