“You’d be right.”

“Speaking of Liam, how is he?”

Lily studied her serene expression, wondering if that was more than a simple note of polite inquiry she heard. “Okay, though he seems a bit down lately. Especially tonight.”

Something like regret or worry broke through her calm, then was quickly hidden. “Oh? Has he said why?”

“No. You’d have to ask him, but good luck there. We’ve tried, with no success.”

“I-I’m sorry to hear it.”

The ride progressed smoothly, the conversation turning to happier, lively topics. The other couple made sure to include Lily, asking her opinions on whatever they discussed, no matter how trivial. They were charming and energetic, and Lily indeed found herself falling under their spell, exactly as Jude warned.

Lily gaped at the restaurant when they arrived. It was exclusive, expensive, with a two-year waiting list. The establishment, notorious for admitting only the upper echelon of society, radiated wealth and snobbery.

No wonder Jude hadn’t wanted to come here, of all places, for his first public dinner since being blinded.

But when Lily took his arm and led him inside… the management’s reaction to him was as though a deity from Mount Olympus had deigned to join them for the evening.

“Mr. St. Laurent, how fabulous to see you!”

“Mr. St. Laurent, you’re looking well!”

“We have your private table, right over here. Come this way, but do be careful!”

Stunned, she watched them fawn over Jude. It was like witnessing the parting of the Red Sea. She’d never seen anything like it in her life.

Behind her, she heard Devon chuckle as they were shown to the best table in the restaurant. Un-frigging-real.

After they were seated, Lily leaned to her left and whispered in Jude’s ear, “You didn’t tell me you’re a celebrity.”

He shook his head, looking embarrassed. “I’m not. I have lots of money to spend and I’m a good tipper, that’s all.”

“I don’t see them treating anyone else like they’re visiting royalty.”

“You’ll have to look harder, then. I’m nothing special, just a guy.”

“Don’t let him fool you, Lily,” Devon said, blue eyes twinkling. “Our Jude is one of a kind and everyone knows it except him.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. Can we change the subject?”

His friends laughed affectionately and let him off the hook, launching into talk of the art world. Lily did her best to follow along, but the names of the artists and society figures meant nothing to her. Those people weren’t her crowd-not that she had a crowd-and were as far removed from her as the Middle East.

Wine flowed and appetizers were served, Lily taking it all in. Jude looked sinful all in black, hair pulled back into a short tail. Unlike many blind people, he didn’t wear sunglasses, which she learned was because he could discern between light and dark, and could sometimes make out vague shapes. Shades would hamper that small ability.

When dinner was served, Jude squeezed her hand under the table. “You’re quiet. Are we boring you to death?”

“Not at all. I’m soaking in all of this. I can’t believe some people live like this every day.”

Jude cocked his head. “Didn’t you rub elbows with the elite during your stint at the governor’s mansion?”

Ah, shit. A misstep.

“Yes, but though my title was the same, my role was very different. I didn’t often get to mix business with pleasure by attending elegant, private dinners, or by socializing on the town with my boss.”

“Good point.”

“And are you, Lily?” Devon asked with a mischievous grin. “Mixing business with pleasure tonight?”

Beside him, Geneva gave her and Jude a catlike smile, toying with the necklace that plunged into the impressive cleavage of her skimpy black dress. Oh, this couple was good. Just like that, the sexual tension between the four of them could’ve been cut with a knife.

“I believe I am,” she said, eyeing him in appreciation. He was no Jude, but he was very sexy.

“Then might I suggest we finish our meal and skip dessert? We’ll take you on a brief tour of the gallery since it’s on our way back, then have a nightcap at our place. If that sounds good to both of you.” There was no mistaking Devon ’s true invitation.

The image of this handsome man taking her, burying his cock inside her, made her pussy wet and tingly. “Fine by me. Jude?”

“Christ, when can we leave?”

Devon laughed and they enjoyed their meal, not rushing, but not lingering too long, either. After some haggling, each wanting to pay, the men agreed to split the bill and they were soon in the limo again. They cruised toward the gallery and arrived within twenty minutes.

Lily had thought the outside gorgeous, but the inside was palatial. One did not come by to “pick up a little something” for the house unless one pulled at least seven figures a year. For the first time, Lily pondered just how much was Jude’s net worth.

The tour was grand, but at some point Geneva took mercy on her. “We all know what you really want to see,” she said. “Let’s show you Jude’s floor.”

He had his own floor? Holy crap.

As they stepped off the elevator and her eyes lit on one of his large paintings, her mouth fell open. “My God, these are… exquisite.”

Jude’s paintings were a celebration of human sexuality, a tribute to the beauty of human form. People of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Men and women. In repose, touching tenderly, making love. The forms had no faces and the renditions were not realistic portraits but, rather, blurred. Impressions and suggestions instead of too much detail. She didn’t have to know a lot about art to recognize the truth.

The man was a master.

Or had been before Dietz had destroyed his sight.

Geneva touched her arm. “Aren’t they special? No one captured the joy of eroticism like Jude. They’re priceless.”

“Yes, they are.”

Lily glanced at the man in question to see him lounging against the wall, letting them look. How must this hurt him to never again take pleasure in his work, or in any aesthetic beauty around him?

Lily admired each one, but grimaced at the two Liam had told her about that must’ve been from his “dark” period before his blindness. These angry, volatile renderings she hurried past.

As she neared the end, one in particular caught her eye. This one was more detailed than the others. It was of a young man with a mop of black hair, longer in the front than the back, wearing an impish smile and nothing else. Gray eyes danced, shone with love. He lay on his back, legs spread, one knee cocked, hand reaching out, as though beckoning his lover to join him.

“Liam,” she breathed.

“Yes,” Geneva answered, a catch in her voice. “Our Liam. Devon and I commissioned this one for our private residence, but decided to display it in the gallery. It’s not for sale, nor will it ever be.”

Our Liam. Could this be the reason behind Liam’s funk of late? Were they the ones he’d been meeting secretly? Was he in love with this vibrant couple? It would explain a lot. She didn’t know what to say.

She turned back to the painting. Jude’s love for his work was evident in every brushstroke, in the way he saw the younger man, the way he would always remember him.

Lily’s throat tightened with emotion. No one who could feel so deeply was as bad as Dietz claimed. No matter what Jude had done, there was good inside him.

Turning away, she pretended to examine the rest of the paintings through watery eyes. A few minutes later, they were on their way again, heading toward the Sinclairs’ town house.

If either of them noticed how profoundly she’d been affected by Jude’s work, they were too kind-or savvy-to mention it.

Liam popped a bowl of popcorn, grabbed a Diet Coke, and slouched in his favorite chair in the media room. He tried to get into the third Lord of the Rings movie. Tried to forget that Dev and Geneva were having a great time without him. Were probably tangled up in a steamy four-way with his lusty friends.