We sat in the backseat of the limo as we moved through the streets I used to walk down every afternoon. The bar where I used to work was just a few blocks away, and I walked to my house after work every single night. I never took a cab because I needed to pinch every penny I had.

Now I was sitting in a limo—Conway Barsetti beside me.

His knees were apart, and his hands rested in his lap. He wore black on black, his collared shirt matching his sleek jacket. His vest had three gleaming buttons, and his shiny watch contrasted against the dark colors he wore. He’d shaved that morning, so his jaw was clean, making the hard lines of his face more noticeable.

He was perfectly calm, like he wasn’t about to step foot into a crowd of photographers. He’d been quiet all day, spending time in a different room to handle all his phone calls and emails.

I was left to entertain myself.

The limo turned right at the light, heading toward the auditorium where the show was being held. Conway pulled out his phone, checked the screen, and then slipped it back into his pocket.

I moved my hand to his on his thigh, my fingers resting across the veins of his knuckles. I could feel his pulse, which was steady and slow. He was warm too, like always.

His eyes shifted to me.

I held his look then smiled. “You look really handsome, Conway.”

His expression didn’t change, his gaze hard and piercing. It didn’t seem like he was going to say anything, not when his gaze was that intense. Then he turned his hand over and wrapped his fingers around my palm. “You outshine me, Muse. You outshine everyone.”

The limo pulled up to the sidewalk, and waiting outside was a sea of reporters and photographers. People were filing into the auditorium, each dressed in their best dresses and suits. They must be fashion gurus.

We stopped at the curb but didn’t get out.

I looked to him, waiting for an explanation.

He spoke quietly. “If you’re important, people will wait.”

Thirty seconds later, the driver came to the back and opened my door. The sound had been confined outside the car when the door was shut, but now that it was open, I could hear the screams from frantic girls. I could hear reporters immediately shouting out questions. The driver gave me his hand and helped me step out without stepping on my dress.

Conway had given me a beautiful gown, deep purple with a high slit in the side. With a sweetheart top, it was simple, showing lots of skin without any diamonds or rhinestones. My hair was down, my deep brown curls hanging loose. A diamond necklace hung around my throat, and a bracelet decorated my wrist. Everything I was wearing was more expensive than a dozen cars. I hardly felt worthy to wear such luxurious things. I thought I would get used to it by now, but I knew I never would.

Conway came next. And when he did, the lines of people on the street immediately cheered, screaming for him like he was a movie star. He stood upright, tall and proud, his shoulders broad and powerful. He flattened the front of his suit and didn’t flash a smile to the crowd. Instead, he wore his usual intense gaze, a smolder that made every woman wish he was hers.

But he was mine.

Lights went off as the cameras flashed. Reporters tried to move in to stick a microphone in his face.

Conway grabbed my hand and pulled me with him, guiding me down the red carpet to the entryway. He kept me close, taking the lead as he pulled me past the crowd of people who reached over the rail to touch us.

One reporter managed to sneak into our path. “Mr. Barsetti, this is the first time you’ve been accompanied by a date. Is it safe to assume that Miss Sapphire is more than just your model?”

I was surprised by the personal question, especially because of the way the camera was shoved into his face. Every reporter wanted to get the best response from Conway, and they were willing to do anything to get it.

But Conway handled the situation calmly. “Yes. It’s safe to assume.” Then he pulled me inside.

Once we were inside the auditorium, the flashes finally stopped, but Conway was swarmed by another set of people. Editors, designers, and other industry professionals inundated him with greetings and questions.

I stood beside him, smiling and standing perfectly upright.

Some people ignored me.

Others instantly recognized me. Joan Ivory, the editor for an American fashion magazine, seemed more interested in me than him. “You’re quite the star. You really make everything you wear stand out. This dress…” She looked down at it. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Does that mean you won’t be on stage tonight?” she asked.

“No,” Conway answered for me. “She’s here as my guest.”

“I see.” Joan smiled. “I’m looking forward to the show. I have no doubt it’ll be spectacular.”

We moved farther inside, talking with more people as we walked. We came across an eccentric woman, dressed in a fur scarf and a jean dress. Her hair was large and poufy, and the pink glasses on her nose were shaped oddly. “Conway.”

He greeted her with a handshake. “Israel, I’m glad to see you here.”

I noticed the way he shook everyone’s hand. Not once did he kiss a woman on the cheek. He didn’t even hug anyone.

“I’m very excited to be here,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be ordering in bulk.” She turned to me. “I’m Israel. You’re Sapphire, I remember you.”

“Yes,” Conway said. “She’s my girlfriend.”

She didn’t do anything more than smile, but a knowing look came into her eyes. “It’s nice to see you happy, Conway. And it’s nice to see your work soar to new heights.” She shook my hand before she walked away.

Hearing him call me his girlfriend sent a jolt of joy through my body. I asked him to label me that way, but I didn’t think he would actually do it unless he had to.

With his arm around my waist, he guided me farther into the auditorium where the seats were. His security team trailed behind us, ready to intervene if they had to. But everyone kept a respectful distance, honoring the enormous presence he cast in the room.

He took to his row and guided me to my seat. He sat beside me, taking the chair next to the aisle. Once we were seated, no one bothered him again. His security team surrounded us, taking seats in the nearby chairs so he was cushioned with protection.

But it didn’t seem like he needed it.

Perhaps he did it just so people wouldn’t approach him. He must have spoken to a hundred people already—and the show hadn’t even started.

His grabbed my hand and held it on my thigh, his fingers warm and his pulse soft. He sat upright in the chair, keeping his masculine posture despite the fact that the cushions were easy to sink into. He stared at the stage as his thumb brushed over my hand.

My head was slightly turned as I watched him. “You don’t like to sit with people?”

He turned his gaze my way, the same smoldering and intense expression he’d been wearing all night still plastered on his face. Like he was a model himself, he projected a particular image. He was sexy like all the women in his lineup, but he didn’t need to be half naked to be desirable. “No.”

“Because?”

“They talk too much. I want to watch the show, uninterrupted.”

“Well, I talk a lot.”

His thumb continued to glide over my skin. “Yes, but I actually enjoy your company.”

A smile automatically stretched across my lips. “I knew it.”

The corner of his mouth rose in a smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Already has.”

He leaned into me and kissed me, the embrace soft but long. It was PG-13, but I still felt the heat burn throughout all the veins in my body. His lips were soft, and his chin was smooth from his fresh shave.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed his affection, excited to get back to the hotel room so this kiss could turn into something more. I loved it when he was gentle like this, enjoying the connection between us rather than the pleasure of the flesh.

He ended the embrace and rested his forehead against mine, and that was even better than the kiss he’d just given me. I loved having a piece of him that no one else ever could. I loved sharing my life with him, being the recipient of his adoration and his lust. Andrew Lexington had put an incredible offer on the table, and while I struggled to say no, I was glad I did. You couldn’t put a price on what I had with Conway. He said he didn’t want anything more than what we had, but he’d made so many sacrifices for me already.

Maybe he would make those sacrifices too…when he was ready.

He turned away and faced the stage again, his hand giving mine a good squeeze.

The lights turned down low, and the show started.

Conway received a standing ovation when the show was over. The models lined the stage with their hands held together, fake performance smiles plastered across their faces. Everyone clapped and cheered.

Conway and I were the only ones who remained seated.

He stared at the stage with his same intense expression, not giving a single thought away. Whether he was the center of attention or not, he kept the same cool composure. Nothing rattled this man.

Then the models pivoted to him and beckoned him to stand.

The sound of applause intensified.

Conway wore a slight smirk then rose to his feet.

The cheering grew louder, and the models clapped for him. Then together, they gave a swift bow in his direction.

The sound was so loud I couldn’t hear my own breathing. Everyone in the auditorium was standing and clapping for him, admiring a man for his commitment to creative genius. He said he didn’t need me on the stage to prove he was a master at his craft.

And he was right.

He proved everyone wrong.

The applause finally died away, and people began to exit the auditorium.

His arm moved around my waist, and he pulled me into his side. “Now here comes the worst part.”

“What’s the worst part?”

“Talking.”

My face was pressed close to his as we waited for our turn to step in the aisle. “Well, when we get back to the room, there won’t be talking there…” My hand pressed against his chest, the same affection I showed him whenever we were in bed together. It conveyed my thoughts, conveyed the things I wanted to do but couldn’t.

His gaze intensified, turning to a gentle smolder.

I tugged on the front of his jacket and directed his lips to mine, giving him a soft kiss while my eyes remained locked with his.

He kissed me back, watching my eyes with the same intensity. His hand tightened at my lower back, bunching the fabric of my dress together. I could feel his desire in his simple movements, feel the arousal between his legs without actually pressing against him.

He abruptly turned away and guided me down the aisle, like he was turning off his feelings on purpose. He kept his arm securely wrapped around my waist and guided me into the lobby. As he predicted, he was swarmed with questions.

Just as I would on stage, I presented myself with a smile. I watched Conway answer all the questions thrown his way with refined patience, and I pressed against him as he held me close. His eloquent answers were interesting to me, and not once did he give the impression that he didn’t want to be there.

He was a good liar.

The talking continued for the next few hours. My heels were killing me, and my dress was so tight against my stomach. My bladder was full of the wine we’d drunk earlier, and I needed a moment to relieve myself. “I need to powder my nose, Conway.”

He eyed me with disappointment before he let me go.

I walked across the lobby toward the stairs when a man with a microphone pointed straight at my mouth intercepted me. Another man holding a camera was right behind him as he blocked my way to the restroom.

I wouldn’t be annoyed if I didn’t have to pee so badly.

“Sapphire, what did you think of the show?”

“It was beautiful,” I answered. “Conway is a genius. He proves it time and time again. Excuse me.” I tried to step away.

But he blocked my path once again. “Is it true that you’re the inspiration for all his designs? That you’re no longer on the runway because you’re working with him more privately?”

I had no idea where he got that information, and I had no idea if I should confirm it or deny it. No wonder Conway hated this part of his job. “An artist draws his inspiration from everything. There’s no way to tell exactly where it comes from.”

As if he anticipated my movements, the man moved in front of me again, continuing to hold the microphone in front of me. “Conway Barsetti has never taken a date to any of his shows before, and he’s never been photographed showing affection with any woman. Is it safe to say that he’s found love in you?”

Far too personal of a question, but since Conway was famous, people thought they had the right to ask whatever they wanted. It annoyed me, but I was more annoyed that I couldn’t just say yes. “Please excuse me, sir. These heels may look beautiful, but they’re deadly.” I darted past him, and this time, I didn’t slow down. Even when he moved in front of me again, I pretty much sprinted into the bathroom.

And finally found some damn peace and quiet.

Once we were in the back seat of the limo and the doors were shut, I could finally hear myself think. People converged on the sidewalk to watch Conway drive away. The reporters were still there, along with the other fashion icons who wanted another chance to speak with him. His models joined the throng in the lingerie they’d modeled on stage, and they came to the curb to watch him drive away.

Conway immediately relaxed the second the limo pulled away. He didn’t even look out the window to watch his admirers disappear. He stared straight ahead, anxious to move forward.

“You outdid yourself this time, Conway.”

He slowly turned his head toward me. “We’ll know for sure once Nicole gives me the numbers.”

“But I think it’s a safe bet.”

“Probably,” he said quietly.

“And you didn’t need me on that stage.” There may be something about me that people found fascinating, but without his lingerie, I was just a woman. His creative designs spoke for themselves. The models were important, but they weren’t everything.

“But I needed you beside me.” He grabbed my hand and rested it on his strong thigh.

Hand-holding was something we didn’t do until recently. Now, whenever we were in the car, his hand was on mine. Even when we were in public, it was something we did. But never before had he extended that kind of affection. Even when we drove to his house in Verona for the first time and I was terrified after my evening at the Underground, he didn’t console me with affection.

But now, it was a regular aspect of our relationship.

I scooted to his side of the limo and rested my head on his shoulder. My arm encircled his waist, and I closed my eyes as his comfort washed over me. Although he was hard, he was the perfect pillow. He was warm and smelled like the man I slept beside every night.

His arm moved around my shoulders, and he pulled me closer to him. It was three in the morning, and we were both tired from the long night, and jet lag was starting to set in. He brushed his lips against my hairline, his affection blanketing me once more.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the hotel and took the elevator to the top floor. The second we were inside, I kicked off my heels and vowed never to wear them again, at least for such a long period of time. I didn’t care how beautiful they were—they were torture.

I stepped inside our bedroom and let the dress fall into a pile on the floor. It was too beautiful to let wrinkle, so despite my exhaustion, I picked it up and placed it on a hanger.

Conway didn’t feel the same way about his clothes. He dropped his jacket and tie on the floor, and then the rest of his clothes followed suit. Everything except his boxers ended up on the floor before he climbed into bed.

I pulled back the sheets and snuggled beside him, tired from the long night. My face hurt from smiling so much.

The lights were turned off, and we were surrounded by silent darkness.

Conway wrapped his powerful arms around me and cuddled me. Heat burst from his body, keeping me warm and comfortable. My eyes were so heavy that I could barely keep them open. After a while, I stopped fighting the fatigue.

But I knew Conway would want sex—because he always wanted sex.

I forced myself to sit up and maneuver on top of him.

His intense gaze darkened before he rolled me to my backside. “You’re tired.”

“So?”

He separated my thighs with his and held himself on top of me. We were close together, nearly one person. “Then let me do all the work.”

“We always do it like this…” I knew he preferred hard fucking, when he pounded into me from behind. He got off to the sight of my tears, to the confession of my lack of experience. I knew he wanted more, and after having such a successful night, I assumed he would want something like that now.

He pressed his thick crown inside me and slid all the way inside, hitting me until his balls tapped against my ass.

My fingers immediately dug into his arms as I inhaled sharply through my teeth. My pussy had been molded to his cock, but my body could never acclimate to his size quickly enough. He always felt enormous, always stretched me wide apart.

“Because I like it like this.” He folded me underneath him, bringing our bodies as close together as possible. Then he started to rock, his forehead pressed to mine. He breathed with his thrusts, shook me with his movements. His arms flexed as he held his massive size on top of me.

My fingers ran through the back of his hair, feeling the short strands as I panted with his movements. Every time his cock was completely inside me, my knees shook just a little. He made me feel so full, like I couldn’t accommodate even another centimeter. “You like to make love to me?”

His thrusts didn’t stop, and he kept moving deep and slow. His breathing became rapid, and he pulled his forehead away from mine so he could look into my eyes. His eyes were locked on to my face, watching every reaction I made. He wore the concentrated expression that I adored, his face tinted with focus and desire. He wasn’t thinking about anything else in the world but me. “I love it, Muse.”

I read the newspaper while the TV was playing in the background. The coffee was freshly brewed, and my breakfast of bacon and eggs was warm. Room service was exactly the same thing that I got at home from Dante, but honestly, Dante’s cooking was better.

His phone started to ring on the table.

I knew I shouldn’t look, but I did.

Mama.

I was tempted to answer it, but I knew that would be wrong. It was his personal business, and I shouldn’t cross the line. After last night, I felt more connected to him than I ever had before, but that still didn’t mean I could do whatever I wanted.

I grabbed the phone and walked into the bathroom. The shower was on, and his naked body stood underneath the water. He ran his hands through his hair as he massaged the shampoo out of his strands.

It was a beautiful sight. “Conway, your mother is calling you. Do you want me to let it go to voice mail?”

“Answer it,” he said as he tilted his head back under the stream. “I’m sure she would rather talk to you anyway.”

I stepped back into the sitting room and took the call. “Hi, Pearl. It’s Sapphire.”

“Oh, hello,” she said happily. “How’s it going?”

“Conway is in the shower right now, so he told me to take your call.” It might be weird to know we were in the same room together, and obviously, we were sleeping together and sharing our lives together. But his mother never made it weird.

“That’s fine. I just wanted to congratulate him on last night. From all the headlines I’ve read, it seems like he blew them out of the water.”

“He did. He got a standing ovation. I’ve never heard an auditorium become so loud before.” Not that I’d been in a lot of auditoriums.

“Yeah, I saw a few videos on TV. And there’s an article circulating I think you’ll find interesting.”

“Yeah?”

“There’re a few photos of you together. One where you two are pressing your foreheads together in the auditorium… It’s sweet. There’re a few others that catch Conway staring at you, wearing this look on his face…”

Redness immediately flowed into my cheeks, and I felt my neck light on fire. I wasn’t just embarrassed but moved.

“My son is over the moon madly in love with you,” she said with a sigh. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. All a mother wants is for her son to meet a woman who loves him as much as she does…just in a different way.”

The crimson didn’t die away. I listened to her words with sweaty palms, feeling ecstatic but unwell. Conway might be affectionate with me, but he’d never told me he loved me. Those three beautiful words had never come out of his mouth. But I didn’t tell his mother that because it would just be too weird. I should just let her believe whatever she wanted.

“And I can tell you love him too.”

Conway’s laptop was sitting at the desk, so I helped myself to his computer and typed his name into Google. Immediately, several articles surfaced about the show last night. One headline caught my attention, so I opened it.

Conway Barsetti Falls for His #1 Model.

When I clicked on it, several photos appeared. They were all from the show last night, capturing details between us that were candid and real. There was a picture of us kissing and another one of Conway staring at me when I came out of the bathroom. He ignored the reporter standing in front of him, his eyes trained on me with undeniable intensity.

I forgot his mother was on the phone because my heart was beating so fast.

Pearl spoke again. “Conway can call me back if he wants. But that’s all I wanted to say. Do you know when you guys will be returning?”

“Uh.” My mind was working furiously to do two things at once. I was staring at the pictures but also trying to focus on what she said. “No, I’m not sure. I think we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“That’s great. We’ll come for dinner so you guys can talk about your trip.”

“That sounds good.”

“Alright, I’ll let you go,” she said. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Pearl.”

“Bye.”

I hung up and set his phone down. The second it touched the table, a message lit up on the screen.

It was from Vanessa. You killed it last night, brother. So proud of you. There were three heart emojis behind her words.

My eyes softened, loving the way Vanessa was affectionate with her brother. They bickered and argued a lot, but it was obvious they were loyal to each other.

I turned back to the screen and stared at the photographs of us together. My heart was beating so fast it actually hurt my chest. His mother believed we were in love, and when I stared at these pictures, it was difficult to believe otherwise.

We did look happy together.

I’d been so focused on my conversation with Pearl and the article that I hadn’t noticed the shower was off. His footsteps sounded, and his voice emerged before he came around the corner. “What did my mother want?”

Frantically, I closed out of the article and put the laptop back where I found it. I jumped back into the seat and almost knocked over my cup of coffee. I caught it just as he rounded the corner, a towel around his waist.

He watched me with narrowed eyes. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t.” I cleared my throat and tried to act natural. “I dropped my fork and knocked over my mug when I tried to pick it up…really stupid.”

He kept staring at me, his gaze hard. But since that was the expression he usually wore, it was difficult to tell what he was thinking. He turned his gaze to his laptop and stared at it for several heartbeats.

Shit.

Then he moved to the seat across from me like nothing happened.

Fuck, did I not put it back exactly how it was? I hadn’t been paying attention when I grabbed it.

He picked up the newspaper then poured the coffee into his mug.

Nothing seemed off.

But my heart was still pounding.

He drank his coffee then stared at me hard, his eyes narrowed. “Well?”

I grabbed my mug but didn’t take a drink. My fingers wrapped around it, squeezing it hard enough that it could shatter. I forced myself to relax, to stop acting so guilty. I’d used his computer to look up something. That didn’t make me evil. I guess I was just scared of what I saw. What would he think if he saw it? Would it annoy him? “Well…what?”

He took a long drink of his coffee as he stared at me. “What did my mother say?”

“Ohh…” I finally set down the mug and took a deep breath in relief.

He cocked an eyebrow. “And what did she say?” he pressed.

“She just wanted to congratulate you on your show last night. She said it was a hit, and she’s very proud of you.” I placed his cell phone in front of him, so he could see Vanessa’s message. “She said you can call her back if you want, but you don’t need to.” I omitted all the other stuff she said, about him being madly in love with me.

Like the conversation never happened at all, he turned his gaze to the paper and ate quietly. He was still in just his towel, his damp hair slowly drying from the sunlight that filtered through the window. The hard lines of his body were more dramatic because the sun was causing shadows on his chiseled physique.

Last night, he made love to me before bed. He kissed me, took me gently, and stared into my eyes like he never wanted to stop. And now, he enjoyed the comfortable silence between us while reading his newspaper.

We seemed like a couple.

A man and a woman.

Maybe his mother was right. A picture was worth a thousand words.

And our pictures all said the same thousand words.