CHAPTER 10 — FIVE HOURS

White car.

Not police car. Same white, but private. Black windows.

Inside, white dress. I knew it was her even before I saw face. Seraphina Vale.

Lorenzo moved fast. He pulled curtain, small loft went dark.

Stay away from window, Leo, he said, calm voice but hands shaking.

Leo was still on counter, pasta half cooked, water boiling loud.

Rhys horn again outside two times warning.

Lorenzo looked at me.

How long did police keep her, he said, one hour, only one hour, lawyers fast.

Phone buzzed again. Same unknown number: "Five hours you said, Aria? I give you five minutes to come down and talk woman to woman, or I call press that you hide married man with child in secret loft."

She was downstairs. In white car. Waiting.

Do not go, Lorenzo said, she is crazy now, she lost mask today in front of board.

"If I don't go, she will call press," I said, "Leo photo will be on internet tomorrow, she did it before."

Leo tugged my sleeve.

Mama, is white dress lady angry?

"Yes," I said, but Mama will talk to her, you stay with Dad, okay?

Leo nodded. Dad will finish pasta?

"Dad will finish pasta," Lorenzo said, looked at me, "I will finish pasta, you go, but I watch from window, if she touches you, I come down."

I went down stairs, wood stairs creaking, heart fast.

Outside, Soho night cold, street lamp yellow. White car parked, engine on. Rhys car behind it, Rhys outside car, arms crossed, blocking road.

Seraphina stepped out of white car. White dress same as morning, but now lipstick fresh, hair perfect again, like police questioning never happened. Lawyers made her perfect again.

"Aria," she said, smile, we need to talk, just two wives, one ex, one current.

I am not wife, I said, you are not wife, paper was lie, police said fraud.

Fraud, maybe, she said, but board still has my name on marriage certificate, until annulment, I am still Mrs Blackwood, and you are still woman who sleeps with married man in secret loft with child.

She looked up at loft window. Lorenzo there, holding Leo, watching.

"Nice picture," she said, Billionaire hides love child in Soho, I can sell that to Daily Mail for fifty thousand, same fifty thousand I paid for report, funny, no?

"What do you want," I said.

"Five hours," she said, "you said five hours only, then you go back to hotel, I heard, Rhys told my driver, Rhys driver is my cousin, small world."

She laughed.

"So I give you deal, you take your son, you go back to London tonight, not tomorrow, tonight, you leave New York, you never come back to Blackwood, you keep Atelier S in London, I keep New York, we both win."

"And if I don't," I said.

"Then I stay here, in white car, all night, I tell press where you are, I tell board you seduced Lorenzo to get contract, not talent, I tell everyone Leo is not his, is Rhys child, because Rhys was there in London when you were fat and pregnant, right? Who will believe you? Divorced woman who got pregnant after divorce?"

She stepped closer, perfume strong, same perfume Lorenzo used to hate.

"You think grey eyes prove father," she said low, "grey eyes prove nothing, many men have grey eyes, Rhys has grey-blue eyes, close enough."

I felt cold, not because night cold, because she was right about one thing — press loves story of poor single mom using child to get billionaire.

Rhys walked over.

"Time up," Rhys said, "Aria, come."

Seraphina looked at Rhys, smiled.

"Rhys Carter, gallery boy, you love her, no? You waited three years, you helped her birth, but she still runs to him when he kneels on sidewalk with car toy, tell me, does it hurt?"

Rhys did not answer. His hand tight.

I looked at white car, then at loft window, Leo face small in window, pasta steam behind him.

Five hours. I promised five hours only. But Seraphina would not give five hours. She wanted me gone tonight.

"No," I said, loud enough for loft to hear, "I will not go back to London tonight, I have Paris show in three days, I am CEO of Atelier S, Blackwood needs me, board invited me, not you, you are under fraud investigation, you cannot tell me where to go."

Seraphina face changed, smile gone, fire eyes back.

"Then you will regret five hours," she said, turned, went back to white car, door bang, car moved, fast, away.

Rhys looked at me.

"She will be back," he said, "with press."

"I know," I said.

We went up. Loft warm again, pasta ready, but cold now.

Lorenzo put plate for Leo, small plate.

"She left," he said.

"She will bring press tomorrow," I said, "we have until morning, five hours left of your five hours."

Lorenzo looked at clock: 9:47 PM.

"Then we use five hours well," he said, "Leo eats, then sleeps, then we talk, only talk, about what Hohenegg will send tomorrow, about fifty thousand euro, about how to protect Leo photo from internet."

Leo ate pasta, messy, sauce on face.

Lorenzo wiped his face, gentle.

Rhys sat on floor near door, not eating, watching us, like guard.

Outside, Soho street quiet again, but white car gone.

Five hours started now.