Solace sold three paintings.

For a total of two thousand dollars.

She truly was not expecting so much, being an amateur artist. A hundred dollars would have been more than enough when she went up to an art collector to begin a conversation about a painting hanging on the walls. It led to her showing them pictures of her work, and the next thing Solace knew, they were asking if she was selling. These rich people flaunted money like it was their life purpose, and Solace loved it.

"Would you mind if I come to take a look at the piece?" wondered Beatrix Dubois, a CEO of a clean energy company, that according to Everly, enjoyed compiling paintings.

"Of course," Solace said, attempting to hide her excitement. One thing she learned from her internship was to act cool and aloof.

Beatrix smiled, handing her a business card. "Get in touch with my secretary, and we'll make an appointment." She tilted her champagne glass in cheers. "I hope to hear from you, and Happy New Year," she drawled and trailed into the line of guests making their way to the great hall.

Solace clutched the card in her hand tenderly, reading and re-reading with a grin on her lips. Something amazing came out of this party after she pushed away her anxious thoughts and overwhelming doubts. She could be an artist. She always could. All she ever needed was a little faith.

Squealing, she laughed to herself, fist-bumping the air in victory. Patrons gawked at her, stepping aside at her outburst, and Solace swiftly stopped her celebration, pocketing it for later. If tonight went as planned, she would have two things to commemorate. Solace could not wait to tell Sage. He would be so proud.

The name jolted her from her dazed reverie. Two things shocked her. One, Sage was the first name that came to mind. Not Emi, not her parents, nor her brother. Sage Reyes. He was the first person she wanted to tell this incredible news to. That was unsettling. Two, it was a quarter past eight. Guests were making their way to the great hall for the performance, a few lurking by the bar and caught up in tales.

Solace hitched up her dress and followed the waiters carrying dirty glasses empty platters.

It was time to put the plan in motion.

The kitchen was fairly busy, servers coming in and out in an organized fashion. A man barked orders from within the never-closing doors, the smell of freshly baked pie and roasted garlic wafting in the air. Solace leaned against the wall, pretending to scroll through her phone as she glanced around the corner of the wall for Sage.

She sent him a quick message asking where he was. Kane giving him a phone made it much easier to stay in contact with him. What did people do when cellphones didn't exist? Solace would not be able to live in such times where messenger pigeons and delayed couriers were used.

"Can I help you ma'am?" asked a waitress, a cart filled with plates covered in silver cloches that were undoubtedly for the upcoming dinner.

Solace tried her best not to look startled. Placing an overly large smile on her face that she had perfected long ago, she said, "I'm alright. I just needed to get away from the crowds for a moment."

The waitress smiled understandingly. "Of course. Have a good night and Happy New Year."

"You too," responded Solace automatically. She returned to her position, sending Sage a few more strongly worded messages that involved pouring gasoline into his coffee and plucking out his eyes.

"Huh, how would you manage that?" mused Sage and his infuriating smirk.

Solace pushed herself off the wall, heels clicking on the floor. "A spoon," she shrugged, leading him down the hallway to the foyer where she could trace her steps back to the art room. "I assume I could scoop them out. Like ice cream."

Sage pushed a large cart that contained Solace's replica. "That doesn't sound pleasant," he frowned.

"That's the point," she retorted, sparing a look behind her shoulder. "Where did you get the apron?"

He sent her a sheepish smile. "Knocked some guy out, but don't worry. I left him fifty bucks," Sage added quickly.

She snorted. "How thoughtful." Solace took the final right to where the art room was, but swiftly stumbled back and pushed Sage back around the corner. "A security guard," whispered Solace.

Sage stepped forward, visibly ruffled. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "I did not think I would be punching these many people tonight," he grumbled.

Placing her hands on his chest, Solace stopped him. "Hold on, I have a better idea," she ordered, seizing champagne from the cart, and heading down the corridor before Sage could object.

"Excuse me," Solace called out, walking towards the guards, stumbling over her heels on purpose. "Do you know how I can get to the great hall?'

The guard sighed, clearly exhausted from handling drunk guests. He appeared young, possibly in his mid-twenties with a stout frame and gelled hair. "Head back to the foyer and go down the hall past the piano," he explained gruffly.

"That's the problem. I don't know where the foyer is," laughed Solace. She stepped another foot closer, losing her footing and spilling the drink all over the front of the guard's pristine white shirt. Feigning a gasp, she began to pat down the front, making the stain even worse. "I am so sorry. I must have had too much to drink."

The guard, his name tag inscribed Larry, stepped out of her reach, waving her off. Although he appeared positively annoyed. "It's not a problem, ma'am. But I'll need to ask you to leave. You can't be here."

Solace momentarily peered over where Sage was. "But this place is so big. I'll get lost. Can you lead me to the great hall?" she asked, adding a hint of desperation. "I can't miss the acrobats. And I promised my boss, Senator Moore, that I would help entertain the guests. If he realizes one of his security guards, Larry to be exact, refused to help me..." Solace tapered off, shrugging coyly.

Larry's eyes widened, and she instantly felt guilty. "There is no need for that. I will personally escort you to the great hall," he said quickly.

"Perfect," grinned Solace. "But you're going to go change, right?" The guard's brows furrowed in confusion. "You simply cannot go in public with this large stain on your shirt. It will reflect badly on Senator Moore."

Larry nodded vigorously. "Wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said and speedily headed down the hallway.

Just as he disappeared, Sage rolled his cart over to her, one side of his lips upturned deviously. "You never fail to surprise me, Solace Laurent," he chuckled.

Grinning back at him, she opened the door and ushered him in. Sage followed her down the row of paintings until they stood in front of the Servus Autem Fortuna. They spared one quick heartbeat to admire the brushwork and palettes. Then, they got to work.

She helped Sage unhook the real painting from the wall, the frame heavier than Solace anticipated. As Sage removed the canvas from the frame, Solace seized her version and unrolled it gently. She smoothed out the sides, her fingers grazing the fountain of luck.

"My knowledge in art is limited, but I much rather prefer your version," Sage said, rolling Bianchi's painting and gingerly tucking it into the tube.

"They practically look the same."

He jutted his chin towards her painting. "But this one is made by you," said Sage simply as if that explained everything.

Solace felt warm in the cold weather. "Whatever," she muttered, picking up the canvas and placing it within the frame. Sage smiled, shaking his head at her. He secured the back, and together, they hung the painting back in its original place, but this time around, the frame held a market-value painting of zero dollars.

Sage nudged her shoulder. "How does it feel to have your painting hung amid legends? To have Moore and his rich snobby friends gawk over it?" he wondered.

She smirked, meeting his gaze. "Pretty damn good."

Turning in his spot, he scanned the length of the room. "Do you think Moore will notice if I steal another painting?"

"I think that's enough art thievery for tonight," she scoffed.

"Next time," remarked Sage, placing the long tube underneath the cart, hidden from view by a white tablecloth.

Solace narrowed her eyes. "There won't be a next time. This is –"

Sage shushed her, promptly cutting her off. He poked his head past the arched entryway, listening and looking for something.

"Ma'am?" called out Larry. The door to the art room began to open. "Are you in here?"

Solace's eyes widened. "He can't catch us in here. Too many questions," she whispered. There would be no simple explanation as to why Sage was there with her. The room contained no places to hide, the cart too small for Sage to fit under.

Sage stepped closer to her, barricading her between his body and the wall. He placed his lips by her ear. "I'm going to kiss you," he whispered.

She almost choked on her spit. "What?" spluttered Solace.

He raised a brow lazily, his calm façade a stark contrast to her anxious mess. "Kiss you," Sage repeated. "It may be a foreign concept to you, but it's when two people press their lips against another."

"Have I told you recently how much I despise you?" Solace scowled.

"You can tell me later," assured Sage, and just as the footsteps got closer, he placed his hands on either side of her head, nervousness glinting in his eyes. It was quickly replaced by fortitude, and before she could catch her breath, his lips were crashing into hers.

Her heart burst into a million butterflies. Her skin was on fire. The world turned upside down, wrong was right, and night morphed into day.

If she knew how good, how consuming, and fulfilling it was to kiss Sage Reyes, she would have done it a long time ago. Solace would have kissed him last night under the moonlight. She had never regretted anything more.

Sage's hands slid down her neck, thumbs grazing her throat, down, down, down, to the sides of her body, finally finding sanctuary around her waist. Solace met his reaction by curling her hands around his shoulders, burying her fingers into his hair as the other tightly held her clutch, so it wouldn't fall from the sheer shock of this kiss. He simply was not close enough. It seemed he had the same idea when he leaned in closer until her back was arching off the wall, bodies flushed firmly against another.

Years of disguised hate and newly uncovered desire were translated into this one kiss.

The clearing of a throat and a disappointed rhythm of tapping shoes broke their embrace. Solace and Sage pulled away from each other, standing side by side. They did not dare touch each other. Instead, they peered at Larry with pretend embarrassment. Solace's mind was buzzing, a fire set in her brain, her chagrin lost in the clutter.

"I was only gone for a few minutes," Larry said, shaking his head.

Solace wiped her lips, no longer able to care about the mess of her lipstick. "Sorry," she muttered.

"You two realize there are plenty of bedrooms in this manor," he remarked, almost miffed that this was his problem.

She wished the floor would swallow her whole.

"Too many guards blocking the stairs," remarked Sage offhandedly.

Scratch that. She wished she could murder Sage.

Larry stared at Sage pointedly. "I'll be speaking to your manager." He fixed his newly dry shirt. "Now, I believe this waiter here can lead you to the great hall. I do not want any more of this foolery."

Solace almost laughed at how fatherly this young man sounded when it appeared that he lived in his father's basement.

She followed Sage out, keeping her gaze on the floor.

They left Senator Moore's art room with a priceless painting under a pile of dirty dishes, and a kiss Solace could only ever want to repeat.

***

Author's Note:

hello hello!

I made you all wait too long for this kiss. I think the romance may be the slowest of burns in all four of my books. I hope I made it worthwhile :)

I also posted my new book, The Emerald Tapes, so please go check it out if you can

We have about 7 chapters left to go. I'm currently writing chapter 40 and once I'm writing them all, I'll be updating like 2/3 times a week, but for now, it'll be every Sunday or Monday!

Until next time - m.k.t