Solace was running late.

She had underestimated how long it would take her to get ready for Senator Moore's New Year's Eve party. A party at such a level of splendor was new to her. But thankfully, Solace owned a silk emerald green dress from her cousin's wedding last year. It was a bit tighter around the hips, but the slit that ran just above the knee made it breathable.

A few of her braids were twisted and pinned to the back. Her heels were somewhere amid her now messy bedroom. Solace would have a hell of a time cleaning up once she got home. As she stroked her eyes with black liner and dusted her cheeks with pink, Solace came to the heavy realization that this was indeed art. The brush of the pigmented green on her eyelids, blending it with a darker shade, was what she essentially did on a canvas.

And now, it was something she would do for the rest of her life.

Solace smiled to herself in the mirror.

It quickly morphed into a scowl when Sage shouted from the living room. He and Solace had avoided what had gone down last night. Neither of them talked about it, sliding back into their usual routine of insults and threats. It was a slip-up, a bad decision that she intelligently buried before a fatal mistake could be made.

But every time Solace thought about his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, and the feel of him against her, her body would warm, and her heart sped up like a hummingbird.

Tossing the dangerous thoughts away, Solace wore her apathetic expression when Sage walked down the hallway, yelling for her to hurry up.

"What's taking so long?" Sage demanded annoyedly. "I've aged, I've grown white hair and wrinkled since –"

Sage faltered, simply wearing a white button-up and dress pants. His eyes widened at her appearance, his gaze running the length of her, and his hands frozen in place. "Wow," whispered Sage to himself. Solace arched a brow, about to spit back a reply but Sage merely turned on the heel of his shoes and walked out of her room.

Solace stood there confused, brows furrowed. "What's wrong with him?" she muttered to herself. Nevertheless, she sat on her desk by her chair and began to line her lips. Sage would have to wait a few minutes longer. If she was attending a party for the rich, she intended to look the part.

This time around when Sage stumbled into her room, he was far more composed, and his ability to speak regained. He cleared his throat, but Solace maintained her eyes on her mirror. "Are you almost done?" he muttered from his place by the door.

"Uh-huh," she said, searching through her bag to find her lipstick. "I just need to find my shoes."

There was rustling behind her, and the distinct sound of her clothes being strewn around when Sage asked, "These?" Solace glanced over her shoulder to see him holding strappy nude heels.

She nodded. "Just give me a sec," murmured Solace, delicately applying her lipstick.

But of course, Sage did not listen when he sat down beside her on her bed, shoe in hand. "Give me your legs," he ordered seriously.

Solace scoffed. "I can put my own shoes on," she denied.

Sage ignored her, eyes firmly planted on the ground as he gently grabbed one leg, setting it on his thigh. Solace watched with bated breath as he slipped her feet into the heels, his hands soft and fingers grazing over her ankles, clasping the strap. Every place his hands touched or the adorably focused expression on his features were enough to stop her heart.

"Stop staring and hurry up," Sage grumbled. He placed her leg down and grabbed the other.

She gulped nervously, attempting to overlook what his touch did to her, and finished coating her lips with colour. It took longer than it should have with his consuming touch and intimate grazes, her mind no longer listening to her and playing last night's almost kiss. Solace stood up abruptly, feigning looking for her clutch when she really knew it was in her dresser drawer.

Almost kiss.

Their lips would have met for the first time. There was no coming back from that.

Solace sighed shakily, pulling out her white clutch. She turned to him, clearing her throat. "I'm ready to go."

Sage nodded, wearing the same expression he was when he first walked in. He rubbed the back of his neck, opening his mouth and closing it again. "Your face... it looks nice," he said, almost forcing the words out.

The smile that threatened to tug at her lips was making good on its promise. "Just my face?" she asked boldly.

His eyes widened the smallest bit. Sage met her gaze, unmoving and determined. "No, not just your face," he confirmed. "Everything about you is nice."

Her heart did the weird fluttery thing again, her stomach lurched, and regret made itself known. Regret that she ran, instead of closing the distance between them. Solace buried the thoughts, shoveling a copious amount of dirt on the coffin to prevent it from coming to the surface. She could not think such things. Rather, she muttered a thank you and scurried off to the living room to find Emi emptying her work bag, still dressed in an all-black attire.

"My best friend is so hot," grinned Emi overdramatically. She threw her Tupperware into the sink. "You look so fancy."

Solace did a little twirl for her. "I feel fancy," she laughed.

Emi glanced over Solace's shoulder. "And you look like a waiter. A handsome one, but still a waiter," she teased.

Sage scowled. "That's the point," he said under his breath.

"Are you going to be okay on your own?" Solace asked Emi concernedly. "I know we were supposed to spend New Year's Eve together. I wish I could, but..." I have to go help Sage save his future from some crime cartel. She felt terrible leaving her best friend like this alone. She was so caught up in stealing the Servus Autem Fortuna, she did not realize Emi would be left behind.

Emi smiled reassuringly. "It's alright. I know this is important for your job, but don't worry. Amos invited me to a party," she said, failingly concealing her excitement. Solace realized she had not told Emi about her art school plans, but she would, right after this job was completed.

Sage walked past her, opening the door, a clear signal that it was time to go. "You better kiss them when it turns midnight."

"I could say the same to you," Emi called out as he and Solace walked out of the apartment.

Solace cursed Emi in her mind, pretending to search for the invitation she already knew was tucked away safely in her purse. Thankfully, Sage kept whatever comment he was undoubtedly thinking to himself, driving to Moore's mansion quietly. Neither of them spoke until they parked the car a few estates down. Words were only exchanged about the timing, and Solace set off inside with purposeful strides.

Tulle streamers wrapped around the railings of the stairs, a red carpet displayed for the guests pouring into the mansion. Rich fabric, twinkling jewelry, and designer shoes had Solace second-guessing her attire. Her silver necklace was really stainless steel, her rings were bought on a Boxing Day sale that would go green if she wore them too often, and her shoes were three years old.

She shook the frivolous and self-destructive thoughts away. Solace looked extravagant. She felt extravagant. And no one could tell her otherwise. Even her own thoughts.

So, just before she stepped over the threshold, Solace fixed her coat and took in a deep breath. Her clothing was the farthest thing from her real problems. She was here to commit art thievery. That act must merit the entirety of her worries.

Flashing her invitation to the guard flanking the doors and telling him her name, Solace handed her coat to one of the attendants and walked into the foyer. A soft tune from the grand piano was playing as guests mingled, the soft glow from the chandeliers and fairy lights bathing the grand room in warmth. Waiters walked with silver platters in their hands, giving out hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

Solace plucked one from a passing waiter, holding it from the stem of the flute like the other party patrons. Delving deeper into the elegantly decorated room, past the ten-foot Christmas tree and cherry red bouquets, she was in awe of the number of powerful people in one space. Senators from different states, tech moguls, billionaire CEOs, and social media influencers conversed and laughed, flourishing in their natural habitat.

She, for one, felt out of place, unsure who to speak to and what to talk about. Solace did not indeed ski, or have a house in the Alps, or traveled to Europe. The only countries that were ticked off for Solace were the States, Canada, and Haiti. Very unimpressive in the midst of guests who had their own private jets and swam in gold.

A sigh of relief rushed out of Solace when she spotted Everly in a black velvet dress that brushed the floor and her usual slicked bun fastened with gold pins. Solace rushed over to her immediately. Solace needed to bide her time until the festivities of aerial acrobats commenced that would draw all the partygoers into one place and minimize the number of possible witnesses in the art room.

"I'm so glad I found you," Solace said to Everly. "What do people even do at these things?"

Everly smiled. "Socialize, gossip, work," she listed off. "I've been here for an hour and got sucked into a discussion about the stock market, investing in space exploration, and how some oil tycoon's wife is taking half his assets in the divorce."

"Rich people are crazy," breathed out Solace.

Everly laughed, nodding her head in agreement. "Have you seen Miles and Wyatt yet?"

"I just got here," she said, "but I wouldn't be surprised if they're following Moore around like lapdogs."

"I think I saw Wyatt in an orange suit, so if you see a boy looking like an overly bright tangerine, that's him," remarked Everly as she grabbed a pig-in-a-blanket.

Solace chose to keep quiet about Wyatt's dreadful fashion choices and peered into the crowd. She was surrounded by wealthy individuals with hefty connections. An idea came to mind that would allow her to spend her time until the plan truly began and use the advantages that her internship gave. There was no better time than now to network.

She leaned closer to Everly, sipping the champagne. Savoring the bubbly taste on her tongue, Solace said, "Say, do you know anyone who enjoys art?"

***

Author's Note:

And we are back!!! Thank you for being patient with me! I'm glad I could finally come back to SIAAF. We should be back to our weekly Monday updates!

Also, I started writing new ideas for book 5. So far, the title is The Emerald Tapes and it's about four crime families. It's going to have 4 different POV's. It's definitely going to be tricky, but I hope I can pull off a decent and composed story.

Until next time - m.k.t