He was starting to learn that Callie disrupted every single plan he made. He knew now that she’d likely be upset if he left her alone in her room. But it wasn’t just that. He wanted to be with her in his bed, too. Curling his body around hers each night had become a security he hadn’t predicted he would need. The emptiness of his arms without her left a hollow feeling inside him.

He laid her down on his bed and pulled the sheets back. She didn’t stir at all, not even when he shifted her beneath the comforter. The soft chatter of the birds from the other room distracted him. He strode back into her room and walked up to the elegant cage Michel had brought. The birds were tucked up in a preconstructed nest, something Michel no doubt thought was necessary.

Their little green beaks and peach-colored faces were attractive. The female lovebird was cuddled deep into the nest, eyes half closed as she chirped every now and then. Her protective mate hovered close by, singing softly as though to put her to sleep. Wes watched them in fascination. He’d never been allowed to have pets as a child, and over the years he’d locked that part of his dreams away. Even after moving out at eighteen, he’d never found an excuse to get a pet. Until he’d seen Callie’s face. The whirlwind of color in the lovebirds’ cage had caught her attention and the look of wonder on her face had been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And he had looked upon some of the most beautiful women the world had ever seen.

None of them compare to her.

Every time he looked at her, everything around him seemed to slow and fade out until there was only her. She was young and innocent of the dark parts of the world, but her soul was old, wise beyond her twenty years. She understood people on a deeper level than he did. The artist inside her saw the world through a lens he’d never imagined possible. When she drew things, he was able to see into her mind and heart. She transported him beyond his own body and into a world she created. And that was only the beginning. Her potential was unbelievable. He knew she was going to fight him on art school, but he wasn’t going to let her throw away her talent.

He lifted the cage stand and carried it into his room. The birds would need interaction with people. Since it seemed Callie would be spending more time in his room, the birds would need to be there as well. Michel had left a white cloth on a metal ring beneath the cage. Wes lifted it up and dropped it over the cage where it covered the bars fully. The birds quieted and Wes smiled, pleased that they would rest, too. He was responsible for the feathery little lovers now and he was growing fonder of them by the minute, and not just because they made Callie light up like the sun.

He started back toward his bed when his cell phone vibrated. He picked it up off the nightstand and answered quietly.

“Thorne here.”

“Wes, I have news about your Goya. Can you meet me at the Quartier Pigalle in half an hour?” Dimitri Razin asked.

Wes checked his watch. It was 11:30 PM. “Sure. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and walked over to his closet. Dressing in one of his least favorite suits, in case it got damaged, he walked back over to the bed. Callie looked darling, sweet, and so tempting that he hated to leave her. He pressed a kiss to her hair, a tender gesture that filled him with surprise. She stirred at his touch and her lashes fluttered up.

“Wes, are you going somewhere?” She reached up to touch his white dress shirt and the heat of her hand seared him like a physical brand.

Fuck. He didn’t want to leave, but he had to see Dimitri.

“Sorry, darling. I’ve got to go out for a short while. Go back to sleep and I’ll join you when I return.”

That adorable little frown knit her brow and he brushed a fingertip over the little lines and smiled.

“Get some rest. We have a big day planned tomorrow.” Unable to resist the allure of her lips, he stole one kiss that ended all too quick. Then he was striding away from the bed. If he looked back now, he’d never be able to leave.

He caught a taxi to the Quartier Pigalle, or Pig Alley to the nonlocals. The quarter was located on the stretch of the Boulevard de Chichi from Place Blanche to Place Pigalle which was named after a famous sculptor from the eighteenth century named Jean-Baptiste Pigalle. In the past it was a den of inequity where wine was cheap and prostitutes freely roamed through the night. Now it was full of sex shops, peep shows, the Museum of Erotic Art, and, during the day, hot dog stands. At night it was different, almost like the red-light district in Amsterdam. It was an excellent place to meet Dimitri for a little talk, one he suspected could get interesting, given his friend’s tone. He sensed there might be more to this than just a conversation.

The taxi driver pulled up in front of a black building with flashy red lights that said “peep show.” Wes shook his head at the sight and slipped the driver his money before he climbed out of the car. A small alley split the two buildings, and Dimitri stood at the entrance, one shoulder propped against the stone building. He checked his watch, nodded at the alley where a car was parked. Wes followed Dimitri into the shadows.

“What did you find out?” he asked as he joined the other man at the back of the car. It was a nondescript sedan that held little attention for anyone who might pass by.

Dimitri smiled, but it was a grim expression. “I have discovered a most interesting connection to the Goya.” He fished out a pair of car keys from his suit pocket and opened up the trunk of the car. In the dim light of the distant streetlamps, Wes could just make out the shape of a body. With anyone else he would have been surprised, but Dimitri could be a little cavalier.

“Umph!” A muffled shout echoed up from the deep confines of the trunk.

“This is a man named Rudolph Giennes. He deals in art, don’t you, Mr. Giennes?” Dimitri shoved a small penlight into the man’s face, allowing Wes to get a better look at the man. Beady eyes, a face made of all angles and planes, he silently snarled when Dimitri ripped a strip of gray duct tape off his mouth.

Wes crossed his arms and scowled down at Giennes.

“What’s his connection to the Goya?” Wes asked his friend.

Dimitri laughed. “A fairly solid one. He had the piece hanging in his private gallery where he does back-door dealings. Wouldn’t tell me his fence for the piece. I thought you wouldn’t mind getting better acquainted with him on the subject.” Dimitri flashed Wes a knowing grin and Wes could read the other man’s mind.

“I’m not telling you a damn thing,” Giennes snarled.

Dimitri struck fast, smacking Giennes across the face. Neither he nor Wes liked art thieves or those who associated with them.

“Mr. Giennes, please,” Wes said, sighing heavily. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I wore my least favorite suit tonight and can burn it later if the blood gets too much for my dry cleaner to handle.”

Giennes’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

“No!” the bound man hissed. “You’re not going to…” He stifled a yelp as Wes lunged for him, dragging him bodily from the car. Since Giennes’s legs were free, he struggled to run away but Wes dug his hands in Giennes’s shirt and spun him around, using the man’s momentum to throw him against the nearest building. Giennes groaned in pain.

“Listen to me,” Wes growled, shoving his face close to Giennes’s. “I don’t like to torture anyone for information, but my friend here, he’s Russian. Old school. He’ll cut you to pieces with a cigar cutter. Do you want that? Because if you do, I’ll stand by and watch.”

“Why the fuck do you care so much about a painting?” Giennes gasped, his eyes near black in the dark alley, but they glittered with rage and greed.

“Because art matters. It matters more than you and me. More than anything in this world.” Wes slammed the man back into the wall again. “I’m not letting some piece of shit like you steal and destroy something precious like that.”