My sculpture is sitting as a showpiece in the entryway to Kane’s massive loft living space.
My sculpture. In his home.
I tear my gaze off the metal long enough to look at Kane’s face. His attention is still on my work, like he’s marveling over it. That hits me in places I don’t want to admit.
“I had to buy it. I couldn’t not.”
“Did you know—” I say, but I lose my nerve.
“What?”
I rephrase. “Did you know it wasn’t Gregor Standish’s work?”
“I didn’t care who the artist was. I just had to have it.”
Pride makes me lift my chin higher and dare to tell him the truth. “It’s mine.”
He turns to stare at me, his gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I made it. It’s my art.”
He looks from me to the sculpture and back again, like he’s seeing me in a new way. A way I like more than is healthy or smart.
“How the hell did I not know that?”
Casually, I shrug a shoulder. “Not many people do. It was a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to be in the auction.”
“I’m not giving it back,” Kane says, his eyes narrowing. “It’s mine.”
Something in his possessive statement starts a fire low in my belly. I swallow, trying to ignore it. “I wouldn’t ask you to. The donation went to a good cause.”
His expression shutters again before he grunts.
We stand in silence for a few moments, both studying my artwork. I recognize the flaws in it. The welds where my technique could have been better. The piece of metal that wasn’t cut cleanly. The edge that sliced open my hand when I moved it from the scrap yard.
“I can do better. I’m going to.” I don’t know what possesses me to make the declaration, but Kane turns to look at me again.
“Explain.”
“A gallery in the Quarter commissioned several pieces. I have to work on them this week. My skills will get sharper. I’ll get better. Someone’s actually going to pay for those pieces.”
“I paid for this one.”
“But it wasn’t intended for sale. It was just ... me screwing around. I could’ve welded this part better.” I point out the piece that’s bothering me.
“The imperfections make it unique. Don’t ever apologize for those.”
I soak up his words as he lowers my duffel onto a console table by the elevator.
“Come on. I’ll give you a tour, if you’d like to see the place.”
I latch onto the distraction before I do something stupid, like jump him. “Turn down a chance to see the bat cave? Never.”
He grunts again as he leads me through the massive cavernous space. It’s wide open, with huge windows on two sides tinted black to prevent anyone from seeing in from the outside.
“What was this place?”
“Storage.”