I slept in Arthur's apartment. The next morning, when I woke up, I took a moment to look at him. I was in love.

I decided a shower and a cup of coffee are going to make me feel a bit better.

He woke up half an hour later and dragged himself in the kitchen. He was wearing an old t-shirt, and a pair of boxers and his glasses were barely hanging from his nose.

"Hey, morning."

He grunted in response and poured himself some coffee before sitting at the table. "I feel like I've crawled from the pits of hell."

"Why don't you go and sleep some more?"

He shook his head. "Busy. I have to go to ugh..." He paused as if he had trouble concentrating. He closed his eyes for a long moment, collecting his thoughts. "To the police station." He paused again. "And tonight, we have a party."

"What about my shift?"

"Brie can handle it. I pay him a ridiculous amount to roll his eyes at people."

"More than I get?"

"Yes." He held his head on his hand, closing his eyes.

"You could've at least tried and lie."

"Lying is too hard now." He smiled softly.

After he drank about two cups of black coffee, Arthur left the kitchen to get ready for the day. I wasn't going to focus too much on clothes seeing how we were going to a police station, not an expensive restaurant. It's needless to say, Arthur didn't share my beliefs.

He picked a form-fitting, dark gray that looked like two months' worth of rent.

"Can I drive?" I asked a bit worried that he might fall asleep at the wheel.

"You want to?" He didn't wait for my answer and tossed me the keys.

Once I was behind the wheel in the driver's seat, I felt great. It was something seventeen-year-old me would've freaked over. I turned on the radio, and an old, early 2000 song started playing. I never questioned Arthur's tastes until I heard his music preferences. Yet I didn't change it. Something was charming about the song and having Arthur next to me, half asleep, with a cigar between his lips.

"Can you give me the address?" I asked.

"It's right here," he said and turned on the GPS, then selected "Sammy-boy." He leaned back on his chair and moved his hand over my thigh. I tried thinking of something else to avoid a certain discomfort in my pants.

Arthur napped all the way to the police station. He opened his eyes right on cue and stretched. "After we're done here, I'm taking you out for breakfast. For some reason, it completely slipped my mind."

"That people eat in the morning…? Shouldn't you eat too? Someone told me you're diabetic."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He got out of the car and took a bag from the backseat before walking into the police station.

People turned towards us the moment the door opened. Some just looked to see who it was; others glared a little. I wasn't sure how well Arthur got along with the police. They probably knew he was involved in shady business but couldn't do anything about it. It made me a bit proud, oddly enough. They couldn't touch him.

He walked into Sam's office without knocking and sat down.

"Hey." He smiled and placed the bag on his desk.

Samuel, Arthur's future brother in law, looked at the bag, then at me. He was tired, unshaven, and smelling of cigars. I wasn't sure what the laws were regarding indoor smoking in a police station, but the overfilled ashtray on his desk was a good enough hint that Sam didn't give a damn.

"Jesus, Arthur, what are you doing. I hope you don't plan on bringing all of your boy toys here." He pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "This is serious business, not entertainment for your Tinder dates."

"It is," Arthur said. "And Tristan isn't a boy – toy. He's a man."

"A man toy?" I asked, and Arthur nudged me. "And I don't use Tinder; it gives me anxiety."

"I heard about your Japan fiasco." Sam cut him off. "You're fucking lucky."

"I'm just very good." He smiled, showing all of his beautiful teeth. "Plus, I have people dealing with it right now. How about we talk about our stuff?"

Sam sighed and dragged the bag in front of him. He took out a bunch of papers and looked through them. He seemed pleased.

"You know this is going to cause a shit ton of chaos, right?" Arthur asked.

"That's why I trust you." Sam smiled. "You wanted more responsibilities; now you get control over half of the city."

"How could I even ask for more?" He didn't sound like he was one hundred percent on board with this. There was something that I was missing.

Sam lifted his old, slightly chipped cup of what seemed like cold coffee and sipped it, made a disgusted face, and leaned back in his chair, pleased with himself. Arthur didn't move.

"Have fun with this." Arthur tapped the stack of papers and got up. I did the same and followed him outside, back into the car.

"Breakfast?" He asked, and the question itself was something I came to expect. He wasn't going to elaborate on what happened unless I asked him.

"Yes," I said. "I want to talk to you about this."

He opened a pack of cigars and took one out. He lit it and started the car. "Yes," he finally said, adjusting the radio. It got warm in the car soon enough, and Arthur's cheesy music made me feel better.

"I think I started telling you about this before you left for Tokyo, he said. "I don't remember everything I told you, so I'm just going to say that the city is divided into a couple of areas under a certain ugh...powers, influences? Names? How should I call them? Some very influential people are handling those areas, and it's almost impossible to take them down without inside information, hard proof, and everything of that sort. Sam might be suffering from a bit of hubris, and maybe so do I."

"So, Sam is doing you a favor, and you're playing it off like you're the one helping him get the position of his lifetime."

Arthur smiled widely, amusement and surprise splattered all across his face. He shrugged.

"I am truly helping him get the position of his life, but being able to detach myself from the drama that's going to explode after one of the most influential people are arrested is quite a bonus. I think the feds are involved in this too."

"And you're the anonymous helping hand."

"Absolutely," he said. "I'm a pacifist." He frowned a little. "Most of the time."

"Think you can handle it? It sounds difficult."

"Oh, definitely not," Arthur said. "My family has some experience in this field. I just want a comfy seat during decision making. But the only thing you need to worry about now is Elsie's party."

"I feel like she hates me. All the people around you hate me."

"No, she doesn't. And Tony doesn't either."

"Brie does."

"Well, yes," he said. "That's because he feels like you're replacing him."

"Am I?"

"I was never like this with him, I guess. And surely you won't spill hot coffee on an innocent, thousand-dollar wort painting."

I wondered how the hell Brie was still working for Arthur if he purposely destroyed a piece of art. I wasn't even sure Arthur was honest. Or maybe he kept Brie around because he knew too much. But hell, it sure did sound like I was better in his eyes.

"That does sound like a hell of a story," I said. "And somehow, illegal."

"Everything was somehow illegal in that story," he said, and it sounded like he wasn't going to tell me more. I was probably going to ask Tony about that.

I was going to do it after the party. For some reason, I was thrilled to walk there with Arthur.

Arthur King was nothing if not fashionable. And Arthur King also took some pleasure in making sure whoever was with him was also fashionable. I wasn't as daring when it came to clothes, so I decided a black suit was just perfect for the occasion. He agreed.

Elsie lived in a penthouse, and when we arrived, the place was already filled with people I didn't know. They did know Arthur and Arthur seemed to know them, but after a few of his interaction, it became clear to me that he had no clue who they were.

Elsie came and hugged him. She was wearing a dress taken straight from the old Hollywood glam. She looked different from the first time I met her, back in that sketchy club. Arthur smiled kindly and sincerely and hugged her back, and I felt that familiar nudge in my chest. I was not jealous, because they were friends; they had been friends even before I snuck my way in the picture. There was no way I could be jealous.

I greeted her as nicely as I could, and I expected her to look at me like I am the most distasteful thing. She didn't.

"Hello, darling." Her accent poured over her words, smooth and elegant. "I'm glad you came. Also surprised, Arthur doesn't usually keep the same company for this long." I thought of Tony and Brie, but she certainly meant something else entirely.

"Oh, thank you, I think."

"Well, I always thought you were handsome." She winked. "I have to go see to the other guests; you can handle yourself, right?" She asked Arthur, and he nodded. Elsie left us, and Arthur leaned towards me.

"She likes you," he said, and I felt him lean gently on me. He was warm and tired, and I loved him. 

That's good; I was afraid she was going to hire a hitman to take me out."

"I'm not sure that's her style."

I looked around the penthouse, and I was surprised how unimpressed I was. The paintings were wonderful; the carpets were probably worth a fortune; everything that I've ever wanted was cramped into that space. And I was unimpressed. Arthur had them too. I could have them also.

The Egg was standing there, in the middle of it all, between people dressed in expensive clothes and polite, fake conversations. I felt a chill run down my spine when I saw it, golden and beautiful. I didn't look at it for the rest of the evening.

We ate, the type of food served in small portions that tested divine, and listened to Arthur talk about people. I knew who was influential there, who could get me out of jail, who could kill someone who could get their hands on some "really good whiskey." I got introduced around, shook hands, smiled, ate some more, and almost knocked down a vase. 

Arthur was utterly livid and made sure the vase was safe and unchipped. He laughed afterward, but he also gently tugged me away from any breakable things.

All in all, it was better than I expected.

Then Arthur leaned towards me and asked me if I noticed a certain man sitting next to a Monet, drinking wine. I frowned. No, I had not. 

Before I knew it, we were outside, and Arthur was calling someone.