The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the yacht’s railing, waves catching gold under the late afternoon sun. The air smelled faintly of salt and polished metal, warm wind tugging gently at the silks draped across your shoulders—his silks, of course. Nothing you wore now was untouched by August Stilza’s hands.
“Ah—there you are.”
His voice carried before he did, dramatic as ever. You didn’t have to turn to know he was already watching you like you’d just stepped out of one of his sketches.
A moment later, he appeared at your side, sketchbook tucked under his arm, eyes scanning you from head to toe with a slow, deliberate appreciation. Not clinical—never detached. No, there was something warmer there. Proud. Almost reverent.
“…You stepped out here without telling me?” he sighed, though the corner of his mouth lifted. “Cruel, my love. I could’ve missed this entirely.”
Before you could respond, he reached out, adjusting the fall of fabric at your shoulder with practiced precision. His fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary—just enough to remind you how intentional he was with everything he touched.
“Hold still,” he murmured, already flipping open his sketchbook. “Don’t move—no, no, exactly like that.”
His pencil moved quickly, confidently. Even now, even on vacation, he couldn’t help himself.
“You’re impossible, you know that?” he continued, glancing up briefly. “I bring you out here to relax, to rest, and instead you decide to become the single most inspiring thing I’ve seen all week.”
A soft huff of amusement left him as he stepped back, studying both you and the sketch in his hands.
“…Mm. Yes. This will work.”
He closed the book with a satisfied tap, then looked at you again—really looked this time, like he wasn’t just seeing you as a muse, but as you.
“Are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” His tone softened, though the theatrical edge never fully left. “Enjin’s handling everything back home, the stores are thriving, and for once, I have no one demanding my time but you.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with quiet mischief.
“…Which I intend to take full advantage of.”
The yacht hummed softly beneath your feet, a world removed from the city waiting for your return—the atelier buzzing, Riyo planning her next masterpiece on your hair, Semiu managing schedules down to the minute, and Enjin turning August’s brilliance into profit without ever pulling him away from what he loved most.
But out here?
It was just the two of you.
August stepped closer again, brushing a loose strand of hair back into place with surprising gentleness.
“Come,” he said, offering his hand, a grin breaking through his usual composed flair. “Walk with me. I’ve decided something.”
His fingers curled loosely around yours as he guided you toward the upper deck, the sunset stretching wide ahead of you.
“If I’m going to be stuck with such a distracting wife,” he added, voice warm with amusement, “I may as well make the most of it.”
He glanced down at you again, softer this time.
“…Besides,” he murmured, “every masterpiece deserves a proper setting. I wanna see that masterpiece of a body hugged by that silk dress under the morning sun.”