Page 105 of Out of Control

“For one star to shine to its full potential, it needs to shine alone,” Rossi says quietly, as if he’s absorbing the words into his very being.

“I can’t believe you arranged for me to see this. I knew it existed, have seen pictures of it, but never thought I’d get to be in the same room as it.”

“I can do one better than that.”

Something drops in my stomach. “Rossi.”

“I’ve gotten Mikah Mastroni to agree to showcase it in your gallery.”

I see his lips moving but don’t really hear him. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” He presses a kiss to my cheek. “He’s agreed to let it be on display in the gallery.”

“What? How? I mean—what?”

“I figured, what better way to draw people to your gallery? To give it notoriety from the start? To ensure that you prove to your family that you can and will succeed at this?”

I don’t know how to process this. How to fathom the hoops he must have jumped through to get this to happen. “But . . . how?”

His smile is the most genuine I’ve ever seen. “It took a while.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been plotting behind your back, but I knew that was your dream painting, and I wanted to get it for you. I offered to buy it—which was a hard no. It was a tough negotiation, but I convinced Mastroni that the world needed to see it to appreciate it better. That by showcasing it to the public, it would increase its worth. You name it, I tried to sell it.”

I stare at him in awe. Even if Mastroni had said no, this is the most generous thing anyone has tried to do for me. “And it’s been here this whole time?”

“It’s been on loan to the owner of this gallery, but in two weeks, it’ll be on loan, to yours.”

My mouth is dry. My hands are trembling. What this would mean to a new gallery. The way it would cement my name, my presence in the art world. The way it would validate me. “I’m still not processing this.” I emit a nervous laugh.

“I know. It comes with a long list of restrictions and security and parameters, but I already have that all taken care of. Insurance has been bought, transport has been arranged, contracts have been signed.”

“But Oliver.”

“No but anything.” He steps into me and brushes his lips against mine. “You keep telling me to let everybody see the real me. The only person that matters to me who sees the real me is you. It’s hard. I’m not an easy man to be with. I have faults and lapses and will never be perfect, but this is me trying to be the man you need. That you deserve. The one who tries to help you achieve your dreams and goals.”

“I want you just how you are. Can’t you see that?”

“The want between us has never been the hard part, Sof. It’s figuring out how to not be me that is. And I’m trying. Bit by bit. Day by day.”

“Not to be you?” I reach out and cup his face, bringing my lips to his. “But you are the man I want. You are the man I choose. Just you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Sofia

“Thank you for tonight. Thank you for my surprise. Thank you for . . . being you.” I pull my hair over my shoulder to give him access to the zipper on the back of my dress.

He presses a kiss to my bare shoulder as he slowly unzips my dress. The fabric falls to the ground with that distinct waterfall of sound so that when I step out of where it’s pooled at my ankles, I’m in nothing more than heels and panties.

“Sofia,” Rossi groans. “It never ceases to amaze me how stunning you are.”

His words glide over my skin like a feather. Soft enough to touch and hard enough to incite a visceral reaction from me.

We meet in the middle. Moonlight streams through the open windows of the room and the cool Mediterranean breeze flutters in, but there’s nothing that can distract me from the man before me.

Not his soft kisses nor his hard body.

Not his endless praise nor his dirty mouth.

Not his intense eyes or his demanding hands.