Cupid's Arrow. An iron spear tip sliced through the air faster than one could blink. And that's exactly what hearing those words did to her. Severed her heart from her brain and she forgot how to breathe.

Those words. The sentiment that she'd felt from him for ages but never heard leave his mouth. Raspberry-hued confessions drizzled her soul in a warmth that she'd since been lacking in their time apart.

And god, she loved him.

Loved him from the moment he'd opened up to her. Inch by inch all those months. He had given her more to love and she'd latched onto it like it was her lifeline. After all, that's what he'd become. A ribbon of hope in shards of glittering glass, a sanctum from the constant abrasions.

But seeing the utter pain and desperation in his face was killing her. His guilt was driving him mad and she wasn't about to alleviate it. Not yet. He had to earn it. Fight to have him back, have him claw at her to open up like she had done with him. She was done being patient. Done with the acceptance and short answers.

"Say something." He whispered. "Please."

"I don't know what I can say."

"Anything. Tell me you love me, too. Tell me to fuck off, I don't know just—"

"I missed you so much." She cried, reaching for him. Too weak to carry on with the anger and fighting. She fell into his arms, finally home again.

"God." He sighed, burying his face in her hair and holding her tightly. "I missed you, I missed you. I'm so sorry."

He carried her to the couch, laying her down and cuddling her. Holding her like he'd been wanting to all day. For the past few weeks. He felt like he was whole again.

Until, after what felt like hours, she spoke, "This doesn't mean we're back together."

He reared back a little, looking at her face. "Tell me what this means, then."

He needed it out in front of him. In black and white. He needed to know how to reach her again.

"I don't know how to trust you." She sniffled. "I appreciate everything you just said but it all came from a place of mistrust. You hid so much from me and... I look at you and all I see are the secrets you kept. That you're still keeping from me."

"I'll tell you everything. Day by day."

"You've said that before."

"Tonight." He pressed on.

"You have to earn me back, Harry. I'm not ready to let you in again, but I'm willing to try. I feel so much for you. I'm not ready to tell you exactly how I feel. Not until you've proven to me that you'll change and I feel secure again."

"That's a very reasonable ask. Thank you."

"This is the only chance I'll give you." She warned. "I can't go through that again. If you fuck up, we're done. That's it."

"Okay, little V."

Her heart clenched at the nickname. "Thank you."

"I can't promise that things will be less dangerous." He ran his fingers through her hair. "But I will be working harder and longer to keep you safe. I'll get to the bottom of it."

"I'm scared of that but being without you hurt more."

He sighed, his face lulling into her neck. "Scarlett."

"Snail's pace, okay? We're both fragile, let's be gentle with each other."

He appreciated that she acknowledged his pain, too. No matter how much of it was his own undoing.

"Can I take you somewhere?"

"Depends."

"The bar."

Her nose wrinkled. "I'm hardly dressed for the bar."

"You look beautiful. Always do."

"Thank you."

"Can I kiss you?"

"No... I can't. Not yet."

He deflected the sting by smiling. "I'll earn it."

"I'm sorry, it's just—"

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

He stood, picking up the folder of information. And he did what he aimed to do ages ago: he destroyed it. Feeding it to the flames of his crackling fireplace, watching it burn while Scarlett eyed the crimson betrayal.

He took her to The Blue Ribbon, driving them there in his Rolls Royce, pulling up to the bar, and opening the door for her.

"It won't be busy tonight." He told her as he led her in, his hand on the small of her back. His hand burned. "I need to do some admin."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. Are the boys here?"

"Only if you want them to be."

"Not yet." She needed to go through it all in small increments. Being around him was already too much, and being back in the space where they spent a lot of their earlier days was almost enough to have her cowering away full stop.

He nodded politely, subtly withdrawing his phone from his pocket and sending a few texts. He was going to do whatever he could to keep her comfortable. He told everyone to leave him be, be scarce, don't approach.

The bar was quiet, a lot of his usual patrons enjoying a drink after a long day. Keeping to themselves, with their work colleagues and family. He nodded towards them, turning to look at Scarlett to make sure she was okay.

He flicked his gaze to Ben at the bar, who was surprised to see her. His expression naturalized when Harry glared at him.

"A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in my office."

"Yes, boss."

She watched his confidence, noticing how it was all to make her feel comfortable. This was his domain, but she was his priority. Always.

He led her into his office, closing the door and guiding her to sit at his chair behind his desk. She watched as he shrugged off his jacket, shaking his hair out and rolling his shoulders.

"Why are we here?"

"I wanted to show you something."

She opened her mouth, halting when Ben entered the office with Harry's request. He poured two glasses of red, eyeing Harry nervously before leaving.

Harry handed her a glass, holding his own, his rings clinking against the expensive crystal.

"What should we toast to?"

She huffed out a laugh. "I don't know."

"To us?"

"To the truth."

He raised a brow, his glass meeting hers before they took a hefty sip of the red wine. Expensive and smooth, nothing but the best for her.

He sat in the chair in front of his desk, and she noted the feel of it. How he was putting himself in a place of submission. It boded well for the conversation ahead.

"Do you remember one of the first times you came in here?" He asked her, gauging her expression. She blushed remembering every time she was in here with him.

"Yes."

"You asked me if that was a replica." He nodded towards the painting behind her. She turned, remembering the impressive art, sensing how priceless it must be. But then he'd told her it was a replica, eluding to how most of his art was.

"You said it was."

He smirked a little, massaging the stem of his glass between his fingers. "I lied."

"So it's real?"

"Very real. A priceless original. All of my art is."

She blinked. "All of it?"

"Yes. All of it."

"How?"

"I'm a collector. My methods aren't ethical, but I have a lot of money to protect me and many very rich people who rely on me. I can't disclose everything, for the integrity of my clients."

"Your... methods."

"I steal it. Sometimes I make replicas to replace whatever I'm taking to throw them off the scent a little. But we plan everything very well. Sometimes I'm working with someone on the inside and they look the other way when I supply them with the replica."

Her head was spinning. She knew he was rich and powerful and dangerous but the fact that he himself was the source of all of his treasures never crossed her mind.

"You said you attended a lot of auctions."

"Not a lie." He mused. "But most of what is being auctioned are pieces I've obtained. Sometimes I'm working with clients, I get a brief from them and get them what they need. Most of the time I'm working for myself. I see something I like and I take it."

"And the bar?"

"So, on paper, I'm simply an art curator. The bar was something to sink my money into. It's also a front. The bar is where I do my paperwork, my planning, meetings, and things like that. It's also where a lot of deliveries come from. I'll give you a tour if you'd like."

"Okay."

She was overwhelmed, thrown off by his matter-of-fact speaking. Having everything out in the open didn't give her the peace she thought it would. She needed time to take it all in.

He showed her around the bar, the meeting rooms where they planned heists, and the delivery port out back that was bustling with men in high-visibility vests.

"So we ship off the art from wherever, and it comes straight here. I don't deal with customs—or any law for that matter. I have people for that."

"Do you have people for everything?"

"Yes."

He walked her around, and she was seeing a different side to him. It was strange. Like he felt comfortable showing her everything. They stopped by a large black door and she raised her brow.

"Basement."

"For?"

"Storage and holding cells."

She shivered. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not."

They ended up in the booth they always sat in, though too far apart for his liking. But she wasn't sure how to be close to him again. Not yet. He poured her a second glass of wine, watching her carefully.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking... this is a lot more complicated than I thought."

"I know it's a lot."

"You said you've been burned before. You have people trying to take all of this from you."

"Constantly. We're a tight-knit group. They've become my family."

"And how did you meet the boys?"

"The first time I met Sebastian, I was on a job in Peru. Meant to be on the down low. He had a client looking for the same thing I was and he had a knife at my throat before I even saw him. Been inseparable ever since."

"Sounds like him."

"Yeah." Harry laughed. "Xander was a cop. Married. He had a lot of shit on some dirty cops, they tried to put him down and he came to me and Seb for help. He still has contacts and they've become useful to us."

"Married... that was who he lost."

"Yeah. He hasn't been the same since. They went after her to get through to him, even though he tried to protect her. He doesn't want to be close to anyone like that again. But he knows about you and how much I care for you. He took such a liking to you quickly because he's never seen me like this before."

"Like what before?"

His eyes softened. "In love."

"Harry..."

"You don't need to say it back." He shifted closer to her. "You don't owe me anything. I fucked up and it's my job to earn you back. I'm all yours, you can come back to me when you're ready."

"I... I feel it, too. I just," she sighed deeply, "I need time to think. To lay everything out."

"Take all the time you need, Scarlett. I'm here. I'll wait."

"Thank you. For showing me this and being so open and honest."

Would she ever look at him the same again? Would she call him her dio, her sweet lover, her soft man? He missed it. Belonging to her. She still had him but she was so far away, sipping wine and listening to his secrets.

He'd paint her again. How she looked in this moment. Cold and distant, the love she had for him rumbled beneath the surface. He just had to unearth it again.

***

Hi my patient angels! I missed you!!! How are we?

Thank you for bearing with me, I know its annoying for my updates to be so slow but I'm working on the final chapters of this book and can't wait to share them with you! 

I love love love dio, venus, and you xxxxx