CHAPTER 9 — WHERE THREE CAN BE THERE

Police car left.

No siren. Just door close. Seraphina inside, white dress dirty now, face grey. Car moved slow, then fast, gone around corner.

People on street still looking. Some with phone. Taking video.

Lorenzo stood in middle of sidewalk, hands tight, like he wanted to hit something but could not.

I held Leo hand. Leo hand was small and sweaty.

Rhys stood behind me. He did not touch me, but I felt him close.

She will be back tomorrow, Lorenzo said, voice low, police said questions only, not arrest, need more papers from Hohenegg.

I know, I said.

They will let her out, he said, she has lawyers.

I know.

He looked at Leo. Then at me. His grey eyes were same as Leo eyes, but tired, red.

We cannot stay here, he said, people filming, board members looking from window upstairs.

He was right. In Blackwood building windows, twelve men watching down at us. Assistant watching. Secretary watching.

Where do we go, I said, hotel has press, The Pierre has press, they know Atelier S is in New York now.

Lorenzo took breath.

"Not Blackwood tower," he said, "not that house where she lived, not that bed where she lied."

He looked at me, soft now.

"There is one place, no one knows, only Marcus knows, my private loft, in Soho, I bought before I married you, before I knew you, small, two beds, kitchen, no staff, no cameras, only three can be there, only three."

Only three, Leo repeated, like new words, Mama, Dad, Leo, only three.

Rhys stepped forward.

"Aria," Rhys said, quiet, are you sure, you just got free, you don't need to go with him tonight.

Lorenzo looked at Rhys. Two men, same height, but different. Lorenzo in expensive suit dirty from kneeling on sidewalk. Rhys in old jacket from Heathrow.

I am not taking her, Lorenzo said, I am asking her, she can say no.

I looked at Rhys. He was there when I bled. He was there when Leo born. He held my hand when I had no one.

I looked at Lorenzo. He was father of my son. He lost three years. He cried on sidewalk hugging small car.

Leo tugged my dress.

Mama, can we go where three can be three, I am tired, my legs tired.

My legs were tired too.

Five hours, I said to Lorenzo, "only five hours, then Rhys will take us back to hotel, I need to think."

Five hours, Lorenzo said, thank you.

Marcus car came. Black car, not Blackwood logo, private car. Marcus opened door, no words. He looked at Leo, then smiled small.

"Mr Leo," Marcus said, car seat in back, I kept it from airport.

Leo climbed in, small legs. He held his car toy tight.

We drove. New York night outside. Lights. Soho small streets.

Loft was on top floor, brick building, no elevator, stairs.

Lorenzo carried Leo up, Leo on his shoulder, laughing small laugh for first time since police came.

High, Dad high, Leo said.

Rhys carried my bag. He did not talk.

Door opened. Loft was small, warm, not like tower. Wood floor, white wall, one painting — Paris painting Aria did three years ago, the one Lorenzo kept.

You kept it, I said.

I kept everything you left, Lorenzo said, put Leo down, your books, your brush, I did not throw.

Kitchen small. Two bedrooms, one small bed, one big bed.

Leo ran to window, looked down at street.

Rhys put bag down.

i will wait outside, Rhys said, in car, if you need me, call.

You don't need to, I said, you can stay.

I will stay five hours outside, Rhys said, looked at Lorenzo, five hours only, then I take Aria and Leo back, that was deal.

He went down stairs. Door close.

Now only three.

Lorenzo stood awkward, big man in small kitchen.

Are you hungry, he asked, I can make pasta, I learned, after you left, I learned to cook, because house was empty.

I am not hungry, I said, but Leo said "I hungry."

Lorenzo laughed, first laugh in three years real laugh.

"Pasta for heir," he said, went to kitchen, opened fridge, fridge almost empty, only milk, butter, pasta.

He cooked, hands shaking. Not CEO hands, dad hands.

Leo sat on counter, watched.

Dad, you put too much water, Leo said.

"Did I," Lorenzo said, "teach me, you are chef?"

Leo giggled.

I watched them. My son and his father. Same grey eyes, same way they frown when concentrating.

Phone buzzed. Hohenegg email again. More papers coming tomorrow.

Another buzz. Unknown number: "You think you can hide in Soho loft, I know where you are, white dress will be back tomorrow, and this time I will not leave without Blackwood name S."

Seraphina.

She was out of questioning already. Lawyers fast.

She knew loft address. Secret place not secret anymore.

I showed phone to Lorenzo. His face went white again.

She knows this place, he said, how does she know.

Your secretary, I said, she always tells her.

Lorenzo took phone, typed fast: Security to Soho now, lock building.

Outside, downstairs, car horn , Rhys horn warning.

Leo looked at window.

"Mama," Leo said, white car again, same white car as police but not police, white dress inside.

Seraphina was back. In white car. In front of building. Only one hour after police took her.

Five hours was now one hour.