“You can be scary and intimidating.”

Rurik makes a face. “Not as scary and intimidating as you.”

I gawk at him. “What the hell does that mean? I’m not any of those!”

He gives me a pointed look. “I’m sorry, who’s a so-called secret weapon for this weird Greek mythology gangster group again? Who goes around and forces herself into some random guy's life without a care in the world? Who fucking attacks a man in the bathroom when he’s trying to do his business?”

I try not to grin. “I don’t know. Who?”

But Rurik just rolls his eyes before tilting my chin and kissing me. I melt, breathing him in as he continues kissing me. Jesus, I can never get enough of him, can I? He has a flavor that mirrors the tastes I imagine heaven offers.

“It seems I owe your friend a debt of gratitude for introducing you to this angel,” Rurik murmurs, his gaze locked with mine as he pulls away. I open my eyes to find him staring at me with a crooked grin. Thanks to her, your fascination brought you right to me.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest, inhaling his woodsy, comforting scent.

“Where is she?” Rurik asks, kissing the top of my head. “I’d love to pay her a visit.”

I smile sadly. “She’s… Not here, unfortunately.” I meet his gaze. “Maybe someday we’ll see her again.”

Just kidding. When the time comes, Rurik will meet Amaura without me because I’ll be off to stay with dear old Satan. Will you meet him up there, Amaura? Do me a solid and promise me.

“I would love that,” Rurik grins. He kisses my nose and sighs, “As much as I would love to stay here and get to know my statuesque counterpart, we should go. I have to be at the gallery in an hour.”

“Oh, alright.” I take his hand, and we walk down the steps.

“Fucking Oscar wouldn’t give me the time off even though it’s my birthday. I thought we were bros.”

“How dare he?”

“Right? Can’t you use your gang-work connections or something?

I throw my head back and laugh, “I thought you hate anything about my work?”

“I’ll be inclined if I can use their evil deeds for good.”

“I’m becoming a bad influence on you, angel.” I grin when he starts muttering under his breath—something about a migraine or whatever.

He suddenly realizes where we’re going and frowns, “Uh, Briar? Are we lost? Home is in the other direction.”

I chuckle, “Okay, okay. You know that museum right around the corner?”

He frowns, “Yeah? They’re having an exhibit for Van Gogh—” He freezes when I stop to show him the QR code on my phone. “Briar, what is that?”

I grin widely. “What does it look like, angel? We’re on our way to see that exhibit you mention.”

“When?” He looks at his watch. “How? I have work?”

I wink. “Oscar says happy birthday.”

My lips part as I watch Rurik’s face break into the broadest grin. He wraps a hand around my neck and pulls me to him, our lips crashing together.

“Fuck. Briar,” He whispers, peppering kisses all over my face. “Thank you, baby. This means a lot.” He grabs my hand and power walks toward the museum. “Let’s go!”

Thirty minutes later, I knew almost everything I needed about Rurik’s favorite artist. I love his paintings, especially the one from Starry Night. The yellow stars remind me of fireflies, and I’m inspired to draw my version of our little slice of paradise.

“He was an artistic genius,” Rurik says in awe as we’re standing in front of a vast room that projects Van Gogh’s paintings around us.

“If he was alive today, do you think he would enjoy all this attention?” I ask, linking my arm with Rurik.