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1. The dark red Manolo stilettos that even she acknowledges look better on him than they do on her. Peter is persuaded of this over the course of an evening that involves excellent pasta and a new pair of leather restraints.
2. Her trust, which he is slowly earning in ways that have nothing to do with the trust games he and Peter play.
3. Her advice on Kate and the music box and Alex and the whole mess that is his personal life away from her and Peter. But he can't go there because telling her means telling Peter - those are the rules and they are necessary, but still - and he's not ready to tell Peter yet.
4. Her ability to be a bridge and a catalyst and tourniquet when needed, in his relationship with Peter and her joyful fulfillment of these roles.
5. That look she gets - hunger, understanding, calm, a million things he's never in the right frame of mind to sort through - when they're all halfway through for the night, when everything as just so good that he's forgotten his own name and yet he knows it's nowhere near over. He wants to see her eyes then, when she's staring straight at him, and he knows Peter's going to be merely a spectator for the rest of the night.