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N olan took me to a restaurant overlooking a grand, old building. We went there soon after we left the fashion show. I felt sorry for leaving Bianca alone, but when I called her to apologize, she had sounded excited at just having the opportunity of going to fashion shows. She had been a great companion throughout the day and took me to the best shows. And since we had our pick of invites, we were spoiled for choice. The whole fashion thing wasn't my thing, it was more Aelin's arena, but I could not deny the art and creativity that was put into some pieces on display, especially the Avant Garde collections.

The only thing that made me uncomfortable were the photographers and the paparazzi that were there only for celebrity gossip. I had been out of the spotlight, deliberately so, but attending the Fashion Week had put me right at the center. A few had even tried to get a response out of me as I was entering one show by suggesting that my marriage to Nolan was fake and only for business purposes. Which it was, but even I was smart enough to know not to say anything to them and just walk past. And when Nolan came, I was relieved I didn't have to deal with them alone. And funny enough, when I was with Nolan, they barely bothered me.

The restaurant was old, grand and made me feel like I had traveled back into the Renaissance era.

"Anything you like?"

I jerked my head from ogling at the painted ceiling to the menu in my hand. It was in Italian and I knew only a few of the words. "I'll have whatever you think is best. I've never been here before."

Nolan frowned. "Really? I thought this place was your favorite. Wasn't there a famous picture of you with the chef?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I racked my brain, trying to remember what he was referring to. There had been a story of Aelin saying she went to some restaurant when she was in Italy. Was it this one? Between the fun I had with Bianca and the incredible dicking I got from Nolan, it had slipped my mind.

"I-uh. It was an endorsement deal." I shrugged. "Didn't even taste the food. But the money was good."

"Oh." Nolan seemed to accept the excuse, which was a relief. "Do you do a lot of those?" Nolan added. "Endorsements I mean."

"I used to, but haven't gotten offers since..." Since the infamous boyfriend poisoning scandal. I couldn't exactly say it without sounding either callous or unaffected, so I let it hang in the air. And it was true. Kenneth had given me access to some of Aelin's finances to get up to speed with her life, and most of her money had vanished. She wasn't getting modeling contracts, brand deals or even social media sponsorships. Her star had been waning for some time and the scandal had been the nail in the coffin. No wonder she had used substances so much that even grandfather, a man who hates rehabs and thinks they're for the weak, had sent her to one.

"That bad, huh?"

"I've survived worse. And don't think I married you for your money."

He smiled at the joke. "Well, your endorsement wasn't off the mark because this place is actually good." Nolan gestured his hand, and a server materialized beside him a few moments later. He ordered two plates of the same dish and, when the server was gone again, he asked. "You've never told me about your career."

I snickered. "Doing some modeling, hanging out at places and getting photographed there so I can get paid is all I did. It can hardly be called a career at all."

"Is that why you turned to painting?"

I nodded, silently thanking him for threading the needle for me. I studied for it, so why not use my degree, right?

"I would love to see your paintings one day."

"You can," I said and took out my phone. I opened the phone gallery and showed him the folder with all of my artwork saved. Nolan scrolled through the phone, expressionless, and I seemed an overconfident hack for wanting to show him what was at best mediocre art.

"I'm still finding my style, of course. And I'm nothing like the greats."

Nolan shook his head, and my heart sank. When he lifted his head to face me, though, the look of wonder startled me. "They're beautiful. You're really good." He slid my phone over the table back to me."Have you thought of doing an exhibit?"

I wanted to do one for a long time, but if you didn't have the art connections or weren't rich enough to pay a gallery to show your art, getting one was difficult. My connections in the art world were negligible and the gallery I worked at was more interested in showcasing artists that were already famous. My grandfather could have helped on the money front, but he thought contemporary art was ugly and silly, so I never asked him to help me.

"It's not that easy to get one."

"Maybe as a Burgess, but certainly not as a Hawthorne. I know a few galleries who love to exhibit talent like yours."

"Thanks, but I don't think they'd find it as beautiful as you think it is."

"I'm serious. Your work deserves to be seen by the world."

Wow. I blinked away tears welling in my eyes. "No one has said that to me."

"That's because they're all blind."

We were interrupted again by our starter coming over. The conversation changed after that. Nolan and I spoke of nothing and everything. And when we were done, he offered to take me for a walk.

We strolled hand in hand through the streets of Milan. We went to the Piazza Duomo, which was illuminated beautifully at night and as we strolled aimlessly, Nolan's hand slipped from my hand to my waist. His warm body was a comfort shield from the cool night air. At some point, we paused and Nolan sighed .

"My father and I used to come here often, but I've visited none of the landmarks. Isn't that funny?" he said.

"Your father must have been a serious man."

Nolan nodded. "He was a taskmaster. He was always working. I'm pretty sure I spent most of my childhood in his office. That was the only way I could see him."

"That must have been hard for you."

He shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "It made me who I am today. I wouldn't be where I am if it weren't for him."

"I don't know about that. It sounded like you didn't have a childhood."

"And you had a better childhood than mine?"

"Not better. But I had one." I shook my head. "No wonder you're the way you are."

He balked. "And what way is that?"

"Soulless and unfun."

"That's not a word."

"It's what you are. You're so rigid and stiff in your ways." I thought of the weekly meal preps he had his chef do. "Have you ever eaten something that's not planned a month ahead?"

"I do. Literally a few minutes ago."

"I mean at home. You were twitching whenever your mother suggested we eat something different. You always do the same thing when you're home and no doubt when you're at work. You never color outside the lines. "

"He spun me around and encircled both his arms around my waist. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with doing the same thing over and over again if it's as beautiful and sexually satisfying as you. And besides, I do color outside the lines when it's warranted."

I ignored the innuendo. As difficult as it was. "You know what I mean."

"And you? You seem to color outside the lines to the point of rendering the entire picture into Jackson Pollock painting."

If only he knew how wrong he was on that account. "That's not the real me," I said quietly, casting my gaze down.

"I know. I wish you'd show me more of her."

I turned my gaze to him. His eyes were a pleasing shade of gray that shone under the moonlight. "I do. I do want to show you more of her. But.."

"But?" His eyes became inquisitive. Hopeful. My stomach wobbled. He could not possibly want to be with me beyond sex. To know me beyond my body.

"Do you like me?"

Nolan tilted his chin up. "And you? Do you like me?"

Nolan was great in bed. Sex with him was like fucking a god. But I knew little else about him. Nothing he deliberately showed me himself, at least. He was closed off to me. To the world. And yet I wanted to peel off that hard shell he cocooned himself in and see what was underneath. "I want to like you," I said.

A weary smile played on his lips. "I want to like you, too." He drew me even closer. Not in a sexual way like all the other times, but almost as though he was seeking comfort. "Let's make a deal. How about we spend this weekend getting to know each other in a nonsexual way?" Then he teased, "Although sex won't be so bad if things lead up to it."

"What about your work?"

"I told you I was having a hard time working. I've called the creative director to come in my place. So basically I've got a free weekend."