Page 49 of Power and Possession

“I’m not sure what to get. There’s pasta, but also a salad that looks good—”

“Get both.”

“No, I don’t need both—”

The waitress came over at that moment and I ordered Ashlynn both meals, and did the same for myself, as well as a nice bottle of white wine.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said as the waitress collected our menus and then walked to the kitchen to place our orders.

“You can take home what you don’t eat. The French usually don’t do leftovers, but since I own this restaurant no one will refuse me.”

She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was secretly pleased. After I’d starved her, I wanted to rectify the situation and make her even more curvy. I imagined her with larger hips and a fuller bust, and I felt myself harden in my jeans.

This girl would be the death of me.

“So what’s next for you? Are you going to steal the Great Pyramids?” she teased.

I laughed. “I actually have a big job tomorrow.”

Something—disappointment, perhaps—crossed her face. Was she worried for my safety?

“Where is it?”

“It’s better that you don’t know. But it’s here in the city.”

“Steele, I’m not stupid. The Louvre?”

I didn’t argue with either statement. “I’ll be fine. It’s not my first time.”

She frowned again. “You have more money than you know what to do with. Just stop this. When will enough be enough? When every single piece of art is replaced with replicas? When there isn’t anything left to take?”

I didn’t answer her because I didn’t know. I’d never really thought about what came next in my life. I was always looking forward to the next heist, the next drink, the next fuck.

She made a motion as if to grab my hand across the table, but then stopped herself. “Just—just be careful.”

I grinned, my confidence getting the better of me. “Love, I’ve done this so many times. The security guards there are all in my pocket. There’s nothing that can go wrong.”

Her eyes fell upon her water glass, as if my answer wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

The waitress broke the silence, coming over with our meals. Ashlynn hesitated, the silver fork raised in her dainty hand.

“Ashlynn.”

She looked up from her meal, but continued to push the salad around on her plate.

“I’ll be okay.”

She nodded, but I was still confused over her concern. Maybe she did feel more for me than she was letting on. I watched as she took a few tentative bites of her salad, and then she attacked her pasta. I couldn’t help but watch her, enjoying the relish that she ate with.

“When we’re done, do you want to head back home or go to the other museum?”

She picked her head up from her plate. She had a tiny bit of sauce on her chin and I suppressed my desire to kiss it off.

“Whatever you want to do is fine.”

We spent the rest of the meal discussing the photographs and which ones we’d like and disliked. I didn’t participate as much in the conversation, allowing her to voice her opinions. I didn’t care as much for photography as I did other kinds of art, but I didn’t want to tell her that. I preferred my art old, with massive histories and bloodshed. Photography was too new, too recent in terms of history for me.

“I’m sorry, I'm rambling,” she said, catching my eye.

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