Page 95 of Eternal Surrender

“You’ll always be welcome.”

He chewed on his lip. “How come you’re so damn calm despite everything?”

“I’m surrendering to the presence of the moment.”

This once, internal warring seemingly having dissipated.

“After all,” I sighed. “There is only now.”

“Looks like we’re keeping the Buddha head then.” He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I came to terms with the idea I’d never dance again.”

“And now?”

“It’s a dream come true.”

“Perhaps you’ll consider rejoining the National Ballet?”

He looked off tentatively. “I’ve done something to upset your brother. Any insight will be gratefully accepted.”

“Alex is in love with you,” I said flatly.

“And you know this for sure?” Sebastian brightened.

“Shall we open up?”

He hesitated, taken aback by the suggestion.

“The gallery.”

“Oh. . .” He blushed. “Yes.” He looked thoughtful. “Did Alex tell you that?”

“Didn’t need to.” I studied the Buddha again, envious of his timeless tranquility. “Champagne?”

“I need a minute.”

I gestured my understanding and headed toward the door, and though I wanted to glance back, I didn’t.

The front gallery was cozier, despite the high ceiling and glass-fronted window that showed off the artwork and provided a modern feel. Red walls were complimented by the softest lighting, designed to eliminate shadows and best present each piece. I marveled at the variety, old masters and modern art complimenting each other in ways I would never have imagined.

Marcus stood across the room seemingly fixated on the 1745 oil painting by Francois Boucher, Brown Odalisque. The one that had once covered the safe back in Belshazzar’s office.

Sharing Marcus’s admiration, I took in the half-naked woman in the portrait, her soul’s yearning, her tender face, and pondered on her life as she carried me back with her all the way to the seventeen hundreds.

“How’s Rachel?” I asked Marcus, breaking the silence.

“She’s discovered video games,” he said.

“God help us all.”

“Still, it’s keeping her entertained.” He motioned to the painting.

“You’re concerned this will end up in a private collection?”

“She’s one of your favorites.”

I gave a shrug. “Used to be.”

“Mark her as sold. No one will know.” Marcus surveyed the gallery. “I remember you buying this place.”