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"Then what are you afraid of?” Maria asked.

Lily looked toward the mansion. "I'm terrified of losing him." The admission stole the air from her lungs. She hadn't even realized it was true until she'd spoken the words aloud.

Maria reached over and squeezed her hand. "That's what love feels like, sweetheart."

Tears burned unexpectedly behind Lily's eyes. "I wasn't supposed to fall in love with the man who murdered my boss."

Maria chuckled. "No, I suppose you weren’t. But you didn't fall in love with the man who pulled the trigger."

Lily frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You fell in love with the man who makes you breakfast, and the man who carries you to bed. You fell in love with the man who remembers every little thing about you. And who looks at you like you're the greatest treasure he's ever found."

Lily's eyes filled. "When you say it like that⁠—”

Maria smiled. "It sounds rather obvious."

Lily laughed through her tears. "It really does."

That afternoon, Lily wandered into Soren's office. She wasn't snooping. At least, she didn't think she was. She'd come looking for a particular art book he'd mentioned seeing on one of the shelves. She found it almost immediately. As she reached for it, another leather portfolio slipped from the shelf above and landed on the rug with a soft thump.

"Oh,” she breathed. She knelt to pick it up, and the portfolio had come open. A single charcoal sketch had slid halfway out, and Lily froze. It was her. She was sitting in the courtyard with her sketchbook balanced across her knees. Sunlight filtered through the trees behind her. She thought no one had noticed her smile, but he had.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled the drawing free. There were more beneath it—dozens of them. She was laughing in one and reading in another. She was sleeping beside the fireplace and standing barefoot in the kitchen drinking coffee. Soren hadn't drawn her once. He'd drawn her over and over again. Each sketch captured something she'd never seen in herself—peace, hope, and even happiness. The portfolio slipped from her fingers as tears blurred her vision.

"He kept them.” He hadn't thrown them away. He'd hidden them, just as she'd hidden her own artwork for years.

A floorboard creaked behind her, and she turned slowly to find Soren standing in the doorway. His jacket hung over one shoulder. His tie had been loosened, and he looked exhausted. His gaze dropped to the sketches scattered across the rug, and for the first time since she'd met him, Soren Kane looked completely caught off guard.

Lily couldn't breathe. Her fingers trembled as she looked from the charcoal sketches scattered across the rug to Soren standing silently in the doorway. He hadn't moved, and neither had she. Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched until it became almost unbearable.

"I wasn't snooping,” she insisted. The words rushed out before she could stop them. "I was looking for the art book you mentioned, and the portfolio fell and I⁠—"

"You saw the drawings,” he said, his voice quiet.

She looked back down at the drawings. "There are so many."

Soren slowly closed the office door behind him. "I know."

"You drew all of these?" she asked.

"Yes,” he breathed.

"You told me not to hide my artwork."

"I did."

"But you've been hiding yours,” she said, sounding as though she was accusing him of something.

A faint smile touched his lips. "I suppose I have."

She knelt and carefully gathered the loose sketches into a neat pile, treating each one as though it were priceless. Maybe they were. "You lied to me,” she almost whispered.

His eyebrows rose. "I did?"

"You told me talent couldn't be taught,” she reminded.

"It can't be,” he said.