She was aware of how distracted she was the rest of the evening. There was no point in telling anyone about Mr. Collins. Not when he had such an immaculate reputation in Roman Ridge. She chewed on the end of her pencil until the eraser flaked off into her mouth and she had to spit it into the trash.

"You okay?" Manny asked when he stepped out of the elevator. 

"Fine," she grumbled and flashed him a forced smile.

He eyed her suspiciously before checking his phone. "The prince has a meeting in ten minutes. Last one for the day."

"Okay," she drawled, unsure why he was telling her. Usually Manny handled the meetings by ushering people to a from.

"It's confidential so no refreshments halfway through like usual. Mr. Cruor is not to be disturbed, understood?" She nodded vehemently. "Good. Grace Wells is a viper."

"Grace Wells?"

"She's one of our country's top biotech scientists. She's been featured in magazines, newspapers, even been on Ellen. Mr. Cruor is trying to recruit her to work for him, but between you and me I think it's going to cost every cent he has to hire someone like her. She's a goddess in the industry." His phone chimed and he cursed. "Shit, she's here already. Gabby is bringing her up."

Skylar cocked a brow, watching the lights on the elevator tick down the floor numbers until it settled on hers. The doors opened and something akin to jealously coursed through her. Grace Wells was gorgeous.

It was like watching a move star walk the red carpet. Long, impossibly bouncy, platinum curls cascaded down her shoulders and rest at her collar bones. Her very exposed collarbones. Everything, she felt, was exposed. The woman wore a skintight red dress with a low neckline and diamond cutouts over her hips to show the fake take skin beneath. Her blue eyes stood out beneath a row of false lashes and smoky shadows. 

"Ms. Wells. Welcome, welcome," Manny cooed, rushing to greet her. "Right this way."

She didn't so much as glance at Skylar on her way to the golden doors, but she snapped out, "Bring me wine. Dry. Red." Skylar didn't need to look at the woman to know that the order was meant for her.

"Right away," she muttered, rushing to fulfill her duties.

-------

It was nearly two hours before Bear emerged from his office, laughing and holding the door open for Grace. She stepped out and giggled musically. "You're too much, Berach," she chirped, swatting his chest and letting her finger trace down his buttons before dropping away. 

"Think about my offer. You'd be a great asset here." She glided away, still smiling. 

"You can't afford me," she jested, stepping back into the elevator.

"I beg to differ," he said under his breath. Grace must have heard him, because a ghostly laugh echoed down the shaft once the doors shut. He turned to Skylar, gawking at him. "Just business." He straightened his jacket.

"It looked like the setup to reality porn."

Bear smirked and shut his office. "I need her to develop an alternative medicine that my bio team hasn't been able to get just right. She wants half a million upfront."

"Jesus," Skylar breathed. "You have to come up with five hundred thousand dollars? By when?"

His smile widened. "I already wrote the check."

"Whoa, so you just had that kind of money?" 

Bear bent over the desk, eyes fixed on her mouth. "You have no idea, how much money I have. Let's get out of here."

"It's only six," she said glancing at the clock.

"Your boss said you can leave early," he quipped, straightening and offering her his hand.

With an amused shake of her head, she let him pull her up and whisk her away to his private garage. This time, he picked the car. The Tesla. She was so focused on his hands gripping the wheel and wishing that they'd grip her, that she didn't pay attention to where they were going until he took a turn down a narrow street. A huge, iron gate loomed ahead of them with a large C above it. "Where are we?" The driveway behind the gate was long and shadowed by thick rows of trees. Solar lights lit the way.

"The real Gore Palace," he explained. The gate opened with the touch of a button on his dash, and he drove them through. 

She felt her chest tighten at the notion of entering his home. To her knowledge, no one had seen it. It wasn't even rumored about. His home was a mystery to her, and to everyone in town. She didn't have to be in the loop to know that much. Her expectations were raised as to what home could house the young and wealthy Bear Cruor. 

The treeline gave way a few minutes down the lane, but the driveway wound on and on. She was vaguely aware of his prideful smile as he turned right at a fork. "Where does that go?" She jutted a thumb to the path they hadn't taken.

"My guesthouse." The solar lights turned to flaming torches glowing amber orange in the moonlight as the lane continued. "This, is my house." She went completely still. Her jaw dropped, eyes scouring every visible inch of the exterior.

"It really is a palace," she found herself saying. He chuckled beside her and parked in front of stone steps. A fountain, similar to the one in his lobby, decorated the center of his own roundabout. The sculpted warrior was almost the same, but now the face was visible. "Is that you?" she checked in shock. The face of stone was so familiar. Sharp jawline, cut cheekbones, and large soulful eyes--it was him. Or rather it was him portrayed as a warrior holding a longsword with a shield at his back. Furs draped over him like a cloak. The hair wasn't frozen in a breeze, it was neatly braided and twisted. 

"Sculptors got carried away." He blew it off. 

Skylar surveyed the mansion. A dark roof capped the white and sand bricks beneath. Great arched windows glowed with light behind dark red curtains. "Does anyone else live with you?" It seemed like such an absurdly large home to have to oneself. 

"Just me," he said, walking her up the steps. "I told you I had something to show you." He pushed open the massive double doors and her vision was flooded with candlelight. Not a single lightbulb could be seen within. From the iron sconces to the crystal chandeliers, the interior was exclusively lit with pillar candles. 

The entryway was empty save for a skinny black table against one wall with a gold bowl of apples. Skylar stepped warily inside, staring in awe at the expanse before her. "I can't believe this is your house," was all she could think to say.

The door clicked behind her and she jumped. "Let me show you why I brought you here," he said huskily.

Wordlessly, she let him lead her through an archway. The shiny black floors were covered in elegant rugs and runners in different shades of gray and scarlet. Blood red couches made up the furniture in his lounge room, but he didn't stop there. He moved her out and around a corridor decorated with oil portraits. "Family," he stated.

"I would have guess self portraits." The row of paintings began with a stone faced man concealed beneath a curly blond bears. Piercing green eyes stared at her from the canvas. The others were similar. 

"Cruors have strong genes." Confidence shined from him and he stopped in front of a closed door. The ebony wood groaned when he opened it. "Go on," he urged, motioning for her to go ahead of him. She looked at him, trying to gauge his intention, but her feet moved her forward. Hesitantly, she slid between the gap and stepped into a room wholly dark. Silhouettes of statues and odd shaped items were the only things she could make out. The curtain against the window wasn't the red of the others she saw from the outside. This one was black and thick, sealing away any light from entering. Bear's footfalls echoed behind her. 

"Why is it so dark?" A flickering of panic made her voice shake. 

In answer, Bear pulled out a lighter and set to lighting the sconces around the walls. The room was aglow with light within seconds, and she forgot how to breathe. "Is this all real?"

"Passed down through the ages," he confirmed.

Skylar's legs wobbled, but she forced herself to get closer to the statues. The room was enormous and went on into a little alcove in the back with a white curtain covering its contents. Glass cases held artifacts from around the world. Statues of gods and goddess were scattered randomly around the room. "Thor," she recognized the Norse god of thunder, "and this is Amun-Ra. This is incredible!" She turned to see him leaning against the wall. Satisfaction etched across his features.

"I'm glad you like it. Here," he pushed away from the wall and went to a glass case, "I thought you might like this."

She practically floated to where he stood and followed his gaze. Nestled within the white silk cushions was a crudely crafted crown of silver. The center held a large, oval shaped ruby that glittered in the flickering candlelight. "This looks...nordic," she observed.

He beamed. "It is. This belonged to a Viking king in the late 700s. Rurik, was his name."

Skylar let her fingers hover over the glass, eyes lit with desire at being so close to such a remarkable piece of history. "Bear, this is...this is amazing. All of this. Did your family collect all these things?"

"My family knew from the beginning of time that history made the present. They didn't collect so much as hoard. This is just my personal collection. My cellar is filled with all the things I didn't care to display."

Skylar whipped her head to his. "Can I see?" she begged. He laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Another time," he said somberly, "it needs to be cleaned before I show you. Don't want you thinking I'm some slob." She eyes his pristine floors and private display room before giving him an eye roll.

"Then what else can you show me?" she queried playfully. He smiled, those plump lips stretching thin and showing off his perfect white teeth. Her bones vibrated with the primal urge to pull him to her. To feel him so close. To savor that minty breath that had mingled with hers.

As if he sensed her desire, he took her hand in his and pulled her towards the door. "I'll give you the tour," he said. She didn't dare speak. Her nerves were frazzled. Anything that came out of her mouth now would only be illtimed and shaky.

So she stayed quiet, and focused all her senses on Bear. The way he seemed to slump forward slightly in his own home as opposed to the proper arrow straight posture he had in his office. How his fern rimmed irises gleamed with earthen hues everytime he turned to her. He didn't have dimples like Jake, his face was more plain--mature. His milky skin was so smooth and flawless. Not even an acne scar marred his beautiful flesh.

He was perfect. Like a god.

"Pick any room, and I'll let you in. But--" his tone shifted, "--you can only see in one. The others are off limits tonight."

Tonight. The clear invitation that she would be welcomed back. She let her hand drop away from his and walked the length of the hall he'd stopped in.

Six doors--three on either side--were all painted the same burgundy color. Each one was entirely the same, giving no hint to what lay beyond it. "This one." She stopped in front of the last door on the right."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Is that your final choice?" A tinge of challenge rang in his husky voice.

"Y-yes," she said a bit less sure.

Bear moved gracefully to the door she stood in front of and paused. "You can't tell a soul what you see in my home. Not the collection downstairs, not what's behind this door, and not anything you see along the way. I like to keep my life private."

She nodded, her throat tightening when he turned the copper knob.

It wasn't dark like the previous room. It was lit with at least fifty candles in sconces,  candelabras, and various floor length stands. Ivory wax dripped into piles around the floor that was entirely covered in white sheets stained with paint and charcoal.

"Bear," she blew out his name. It was...magnificent.

"Not a word. Not even to Charlotte."

"She'd rip your throat out if you heard her call her that," she simpered.

He chuckled, walking behind her to grip her shoulders and turned her to face the opposite wall. Between the sconces he'd displayed paintings. People. He painted people.

People walking down the street. People in his building. People from other eras of the past. People...and then...

"Is that...me?" She noted the painting hung on the wall. Framed in glittering gold and larger than the rest rested a portrait. It wasn't her in the present, but a time long before. Her brown hair had been arranged in various braids and coils. A dark metallic crown had been painted atop her head--a glowing ruby placed in the center. Her eyes were brown--the brown they'd been before her heterchromia.

He moved her over. Another painting, this tine of her in robes of white with a golden belt about her waist. Her hair was curled to perfection and a hand reached over her open mouth, pale and slender, with a single grape ready to be dropped.

She slipped away from him and he allowed her to roam the length of the wall. Every picture hanging on it was of her in different scenes. Sometimes painted in battle in leather and fur. Sometimes in long, elegant gowns with precious gems in her hair and ears. Other times she was painted more modern--in heels and finger curled hair in a flapper dress and a wide grin on her red lips. But there, at the end of the wall, was her.

Pink Converse, ripped jeans, and an unadorned pink sweatshirt. It was her as she was. He'd painted her in a sea of people, and yet she was alone. Alone because everyone surrounding her was smeared and blurred. Students with backpacks swirled around where she stood on the sidewalk in front of Roman Ridge High. Her lower lip was pulled into her mouth, biting and sucking. Her hands were placed in her front pockets, contemplative and bored.

"These are all...of me?" Her throat bobbed. She twisted around to where he stood, closer than she recalled.

He shrugged, nodding towards the other three walls. "Not all of them. I only paint things that inspire me. Beautiful things."

She surveyed the other walls, noting that they were nothing more than landscapes. Some ancient Grecian towns, some huts in forested areas, some running rivers with walled cities in the distant. "Why me?" She swallowed when he slid forward, almost silently.

His mouth twisted to the side and he lowered his head to hover just a breath away from hers. "Because you're beautiful." The words were a whisper, precise and gentle.

She held his gaze, silently begging him to close the distance, and he greedily obliged. His mouth claimed hers in a flurry of passion. She stumbled at the force and knocked over a paint can that went skittered over the floor and spilling blue paint everywhere.

Skylar jumped back, covering her face in shame. "I am so so sorry!" To her relief, Bear was laughing--deep and genuine. A dark vein in his neck bulged woth every gasp of breath. Skylar couldn't help herself but laugh with him. She gave into the lightness he provided her with and allowed herself to just laugh. It was freeing. To relax for a moment and not worry about life. She just...laughed.