Heat that has nothing to do with the fire flashes through me. “Not this time.”
He crosses to stand beside me, the blanket trailing behind him like a king’s robe. His shoulder brushes mine as he peers into the flames, watching as they consume decades of deception. “What is all this?”
“The men I’m not anymore.” I gesture to the fire where Lorenzo’s pocket square has already turned to ash. “And the originalAnatomy of a Ghost.”
Ezra stiffens, then lurches forward to stare into the flames. “The what?”
“The original.” The painting is nearly gone now, its edges blackened, the ghost at its center almost consumed. “The real Valenne.”
“You—” He stares as the last corner curls in on itself. “That was worth millions. People have been searching for it for decades.”
“I know.” The flames reflect in his shocked expression, dancing gold across his features. “I’ve been hunting it since I was eighteen.”
“And you’re burning it.” It’s not a question, but his tone carries disbelief edged with respect. Or understanding.
“There can only be oneAnatomy of a Ghostnow.” I meet his gaze. “My grandfather’s. The one in your collection.”
The realization dawns across his face, his lips parting. “You’re erasing every other version.”
“Once I steal back my forgery from Halcyon Hall, Grandfather’s will stand alone. The most perfect art forgery in history will become the original.” A weight lifts from my chest, as if the words have been waiting years to be spoken. “His greatest work will finally be recognized for what it is. A masterpiece.”
Ezra’s laugh fills the air, wild with wonder. His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining as we watch the last fragments of canvas blacken and curl. “You magnificent bastard.”
“It was always the better painting, anyway.” Pride for my grandfather fills me. “He understood Valenne’s intention better than Valenne himself did.”
Ezra turns to face me, his free hand cupping my jaw. “You know, I bought your forgery, too.”
My breath catches. “What?”
“From Harcourt. At the auction.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “Couldn’t let anyone else have a piece of you.”
The revelation strikes me silent. All these months, I’d assumed the painting remained at Halcyon Hall. But Ezra had claimed it for himself, just as he’d claimed me.
“So now you own both Mercier versions,” I finally manage. “The only two in existence.”
He leans down to kiss me. “And they’re both priceless.”
“About that.” I step closer, my hands finding his waist beneath the blanket. “I hid Aaiden’s check in the frame.”
“His what?”
“The check he wrote me. Fifty grand to leave you.” Heat rises to my face at the admission. “I couldn’t keep it, so when I packed up my belongings, I hid it behind the canvas backing.”
Ezra laughs again and opens the blanket, pulling me inside its warmth, wrapping us both in shared heat. My back meets his chest, his arms crossing over mine as we face the dying fire together.
“We’ll have another fire when you come home,” he murmurs in my ear.
I lean back into him, relishing the solid wall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Am I not home already?”
“If you mean this building…” His arms tighten around me. “I’ll burn it, too.”
The threat carries no malice, only the same possessive certainty that has defined Ezra from the moment we met.
“After what happened with Harcourt, I don’t think I’d mind it burning. I’m done with Tobias.” I turn my head, resting it on his shoulder, the blanket a cocoon around us. “But I meantyou. You’re my home now.”
His breath hitches, a small tell that his composure isn’t as complete as it appears. Then his lips find the back of my neck, kissing right above the protective guard at my nape, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
“What about your work?” he asks, his breath warm on my ear in the cool morning air. “Can you give it up so easily?”
