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Chapter 7
Last Updated:
2026-01-03 21:47:46
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Love, signed in the City. chapter 14
The gala was held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art—black-tie, old money, the kind of event where people came to be seen more than to see the art.Alexander had attended dozens of these. He knew the script: arrive at 8:00 sharp, pose for photos on the red carpet, smile like you mean it, shake hands with the right people, leave before midnight.Tonight felt different.Because Evelyn was on his arm.She stepped out of the elevator at 7:45 wearing the gold dress. The fabric caught every light in the foyer like liquid sunlight. The slit flashed with each step. Her hair fell in loose waves. Makeup soft but striking—smoky eyes, nude lip, gold earrings that matched the dress.She looked like she belonged in this world.She looked like she could ruin him.He waited by the private elevator doors, tuxedo black and tailored, no tie, top button undone. Standard for him. Controlled. Unapproachable.When she approached, he offered his arm without a word.She took it.Her fingers were cool against h
Love, signed in the City. Chapter 13
The photographer arrived , right on the new schedule Alexander had requested. Evelyn heard the doorbell from the studio—soft chime, polite interruption. She’d spent the afternoon finishing the edges of her storm painting, adding just enough gold threads to make the clouds look like they might part eventually. Not today. Not yet. But maybe tomorrow. She washed the paint from her hands, changed into the simple black dress Simone had left behind (“for casual shots—effortless chic”), and walked out. Alexander was already in the living room, speaking low to the photographer—a young woman with a camera strap and an easy smile—and her assistant. “Natural light from the windows,” he was saying. “No posed stiffness. Candid moments.” The photographer nodded. “Got it. We’ll do a mix—couple shots, individual portraits, some with the skyline backdrop.” Evelyn stepped into the room. Alexander glanced at her. One quick scan dress, hair down, bare feet then his eyes moved away. “Evelyn,” he
Love, signed in the City. Chapter 12
The doorbell chimed at exactly 7:00 p.m., sharp and polite, like everything else in this penthouse.Evelyn had spent the last hour in the studio staring at her half-finished storm canvas, brush in hand but no progress. The grays had deepened, the blues had turned almost black. She couldn’t find the gold she’d started with yesterday. It felt buried under too much weight.She heard Alexander’s footsteps—measured, unhurried crossing the living room to answer the door.Voices murmured. Female, professional, excited. The stylist and her team.Evelyn wiped her hands on a rag, left the brush balanced on the easel, and walked out.Three women stood in the foyer, wheeling garment bags and cases. The lead stylist—tall, silver-streaked hair, impeccable black pantsuit, smiled brightly when she saw Evelyn.“Mrs. Knight! I’m Simone. This is my team: Mia for hair and makeup, and Tara for fittings. We’re here to make tomorrow’s gala unforgettable.”Evelyn managed a smile. “Hi. Evelyn is fine.”Simon
Love, signed in the City. Chapter 11
Alexander ended the last conference call at exactly 2:47 p.m. and snapped his laptop shut harder than necessary.The numbers were perfect. Nakamura’s team had responded positively to the vague “personal stability” update Elena fed them this morning. The merger timeline was locked. Everything was proceeding according to plan.Everything except the quiet storm brewing in his own home.He hadn’t seen Evelyn since breakfast. Hadn’t sought her out. Hadn’t allowed himself even a glance down the hallway toward the studio. Distance was discipline. Cold was protection. He’d perfected both over the years.Yet the silence of the penthouse felt heavier than usual.He stood at his office window, hands clasped behind his back, staring down at the city seventy-five floors below. From up here, people were ants, problems were abstract, emotions were irrelevant. It was how he preferred things.His phone vibrated on the desk.Elena: Stylist and team arriving at 4:00 sharp for Mrs. Knight. Five dress opt
Love, signed in the City. Chapter 10
City Hall was colder than he remembered.Maybe because it was New Year’s Eve morning, and the building felt half-asleep. Maybe because the vows they were about to say were technically lies. Or maybe because Evelyn stood beside him in a simple cream dress that made her look like something he didn’t deserve.They’d chosen today for practicality—quiet day, fewer people, easy to keep private. Just them, Elena (his assistant, serving as witness), and Lila (Evelyn’s demand, non-negotiable). No photographers. No fanfare.Evelyn’s hand was ice in his as they stood in front of the clerk.She’d painted her nails a soft gold. He noticed stupid details like that now.The ceremony was short. Scripted. Efficient.“Do you, Alexander Knight, take Evelyn Harper to be your lawfully wedded wife…”He said I do. Voice steady. Eyes on her.She echoed it back. Quieter. But clear.Rings were simple—white gold bands, nothing flashy. He slid hers on slowly. She did the same. Her fingers trembled just slightly.
Love, signed in the City. Chapter 9
The rain stopped sometime after midnight. Evelyn noticed because the constant drumming on her window finally went quiet, leaving the city strangely hushed. She’d been painting for hours—brush in one hand, phone in the other, music low in her earbuds. Indigo and rose and gold spilling across the canvas like she was trying to exorcise the decision hanging over her. She’d started with anger—harsh strokes, dark edges. Then frustration. Then something softer. Hope, maybe. Or fear disguised as hope. By 2 a.m. the piece was nearly done. Not perfect. But honest. She stepped back. Wiped her hands on her thighs, leaving streaks on her old leggings. The contract sat on the kitchen counter, printed and annotated and staring at her like it had opinions. Lila had left around ten, after three hours of pros/cons, prosecco, and one tearful hug. “You don’t have to save the world, Ev,” she’d said at the door. “Just yourself. And if that means saying yes to the hot billionaire with the penthouse
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