Nirav doesn’t answer this question. He crams his fists farther into the pockets of his ratty jacket.
I glance around at each canvas, but this is the only one that features my face. Mine and Pax’s, who I met just days ago.
“Nirav, will you come with me?”
Nods.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nirav and I march with purpose to our next destination.
I awaken Pax with a pitcher of cold water thrown in his face.
“What the—PAH!” Pax sputters. Shakes his head. Swipes his eyes. “Whatisit with you and tossing liquids about?” I fight a grin—I really want to chuckle at his fumbling, but I need answers.
He sits up in bed. It’s early morning, the sun not fully over the horizon. The water has soaked him, and it glistens down over his bare chest. I avert my eyes.
Law, chile, those abs!
Could scrub some skivvies clean on those, now, couldn’t ya?
I ignore those voices. “Why are you still asleep? It’s six thirty.”
Pax half grins at me in a way that makes my stomach tighten. “Rising before noon is for hard workers, not smart workers.”
Pax crouches down in his bed, forcing me to make eye contact. His grin is devious. “Look at us. We just met and we’re already wishing each other good morning. That usually doesn’t happen for me until the fifth or sixth meeting, at least.”
“Get up,” I say, flustered by this knowledge. “You need to see this.”
“How did you get in here? See what?”
“Come on.”
Pax stands. He’s wearing only undergarments.
I burn with anger or embarrassment or… something. My cheeks flush and I close my eyes. When I reopen them, Pax is still there. Lingering a moment, wearing nothing but his skivvies and a smile. Chin lowered. Eyebrows raised.
He is putting on a show and he knows it. And I? I cannot breathe.
“Get dressed,” I say through gritted teeth.
Finally, he stops teasing me and wraps the sheet around his waist. He ducks behind the dressing screen. But I can see his silhouette donning trousers and an undershirt. Spirit wolf whistles.
No. This is not…
No.
I have to leave.
I duck into the apartment’s parlor—his apartment has aparlor—and wait with Nirav. I shift about on the silk settee, my mind replaying what just happened. Nirav peers at me sidewise, shooting me anAre you okay?look. I ignore it.
Pax’s voice travels from the other room. “I’m not an ‘I told you so’ sort of fellow, but honestly? I knew you’d come around. I’m not boasting here, but I usually do get what I—oh!”
He rounds the doorframe into the parlor and stops short when he sees a young boy seated beside me.
But I have to hand it to him. He adjusts to this new scenario quickly, beaming at Nirav. “And you are…?”
I thrust the painting toward Pax, impatient for answers. “This is Nirav. He painted this.”
