The next morning I woke up alone. I could hear Arthur arguing at the phone, and he sounded pissed. The more he talked, the angrier he became until I heard a loud thud. I got of bed to check on him.

He looked at me and sat down. His phone was on the other side of the room, shattered.

"Are you ok?" I asked, and he lifted his arms in defeat.

"Fantastic," he said. He was still wearing that old shirt, and his hair was messy. He wasn't wearing glasses, so he squinted at me. I walked to him and hugged him.

"Is this about work?" I asked.

"It's not about mom's paintings," he said. "Sam's getting ahead of himself."

"How come?"

"He wants a big win, so to say," Arthur said. "And I can't agree with that."

"You're not making sense," I told him, and he pulled away.

"Look, he's been catching a lot of small-time crooks because of me. I give him information, proof, I tip him off and all that good stuff. But I can't agree with him bringing down a big fish. Not some big shot in a neighborhood type of big fish. A proper fucking whale."

I didn't tell him that whales are not fishes. He probably knew, and I understood the metaphor, or whatever the hell that was. 

"And that's bad because…"

"Because that's going to start a very nasty fight for power, dummy." He poked my forehead with his finger gently. "Everyone will want to fill in the empty position."

"And why do you care?" I asked. "It's not like you're involved in that kind of activities."

"I'm not," he said. "But my family is. Most of it anyway. I'll have to talk to my sister. She'll have to talk him out of this bullshit."

"And if you don't help him, how will he get his proof?"

"Like he can't blackmail me," Arthur said. "And I can't just kill him. He's my sister's fiancée."

"I thought you don't deal with killing people."

"No, not usually."

"Is this why you came to Paris?"

"Partially," Arthur admitted and shrugged. "I could've asked someone to take care of mom's paintings, but honestly, I enjoy doing it."

"So, you're avoiding Sam," I said. Arthur nodded.

"I'll see how I'll deal with this issue."

I had no idea what to tell him, so I kept my mouth shut. He was probably better at figuring out this sort of thing.

"And Elsie's holding her party and she wants me to attend. I think she mentioned this while we were at the club."

"Yeah. I remember," I said, playing with the hair at the back of his head.

"You'll come, right? I need arm candy.

I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Sure. I like parties."

"I need a new phone," Arthur added a couple of moments later, looking at his shattered one.

Arthur got a new phone and Arthur got a new haircut. We went shopping, and I realized what kind of spender Arthur was. He was an impulsive buyer, easily influenced by his mood. He was stressed, that was painfully obvious with me. And each time his phone rang, he became more stressed and spent more money. Most of the things he bought weren't even that practical.

All I could feel then was worry and envy. I wished I could blow money like that every time just because I had a bad day. 

"What can I do for you?" I asked while he was buying silk handkerchiefs and scarves. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what does Tony do?"

"Runs errands for me, most of the time. Delivers things I don't trust with others."

"Can I do it too?" I asked, and Arthur looked at me through his clear-framed glasses. His eyes were still tired, surrounded by dark circles, but I still found them entrancing. "You can trust me," I added.

Arthur smiled. "I trust you," he said, and it sounded like a politician's lie.

"Why don't you?" I asked.

"I said that I do."

"No, you don't. You think I can't handle it."

"Listen, Tristan," he said, calmly and a bit sweetly. He was trying to win me over. "I trust you, alright? It's just that I want Tony to do my errands. You'll do other things for me."

"Besides waiting for you to want to fuck?" I said, just because I wanted to wipe that expression off his face. He didn't twitch a bit, and his smile – that smile – was frozen on his face. I could bet an arm and a leg that if I could read thoughts, he was mentally dragging me through hell.

"Besides," he said. "Remember Tokyo? I want you to go there without me."

"Tokyo?"

He nodded. "Someone has something I want. It's a Fabergé egg. There are fifty eggs in the world, and I have this chance of getting my hands on one."

"They're selling?"

"God, no, you have to be mad to sell one of those. This one, in particular, has been presumed lost. It's called The Hen with Sapphire Pendant, and it was made in 1886, for Alexander III. He gave it to his wife, Empress Maria Feodorovna. It's not from a museum, it's not from a private collection, and police can't get involved, which is perfect.

"So, you want to steal it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. It didn't seem like his style.

"Replace it," Arthur said. "They're by no means experts; they won't know."

I frowned. "Oh. You're asking me to replace it?"

"You wanted to work for me," he said. "And I trust you with that egg more than I trust anyone else that works for me. You won't run away with it."

"No," I said. "I won't."

"And," Arthur started, placing his hand on my chest. "I'll pay you more than you can imagine if this turns outright. Tony will be there to help you."

I nodded. I was surprisingly calm, and it didn't even cross my mind to ask who I was stealing the egg from.

"What about you?" I asked. "What will you do?"

"Deal with Sammy. He'll get himself killed or get me in jail, and I'm not going to stand for that. If he wasn't my sister's fiancée…" He shook his head, stopping himself from continuing. "It's important, Tristan." Arthur continued. "I like Sam, I do, but I won't let him drag my family down or drag me down for that matter of fact. Mom won't be pleased. I'll talk to her once I return to the country. With the paintings. Maybe she'll take the news better."

"Alright," I nodded. 

Once we got back to the hotel room, I grabbed him by his pretty shirt and pulled him so close, so fast, that I knocked the air out of his lungs. I kissed him, feeling all that energy accumulated during the evening pour into it. I was going to be rich. I could feel it in the tips of my fingers.

Arthur tugged at my hair, a bit harsh, and bit my bottom lip hard. He smiled, pleased with himself. He reminded me of a cat that liked to play with its' food. He was just as pretentious as a cat.

"I'm going to bed." He told me, and I was unsure if that was an invitation or not. I took it as one and followed him.

I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him take off his shirt. He did it slowly, ignoring me, and I found that irresistible coming from him.

When he walked past me to put his shirt on a chair, I grabbed his belt and tugged him close to me. I held him there by the hips and looked up. He smiled and brushed his fingers through my hair.

"You have a great hairline," he said and moved my hands up his waist.

He was warm, and it had been a while since I felt that sort of warmth close to me. Arthur kissed me again, and I undid his pants.

He smirked and sat on my lap.