CHAPTER 19

Elena woke on her second morning above the gallery with the sun on her face.

For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then she saw the tall window, the white walls, and a small table by the bed. On it stood a pot of tea, two slices of toast, and a folded note.

Do not wait for me. Eat. Paint. The studio is yours. Alexander.

She held the note for a long time.

It was a kind note, and that was exactly the problem. Alexander had carried her suitcase. He had given her a room and a lock and a quiet place to breathe. He had asked for nothing. And every time she looked at him, she felt something warm and dangerous moving in her chest.

She put the note down and pushed it away.

I am still a married woman, she told herself. I am a runaway with a secret. I cannot pull a good man into my mess.

She would be polite and she would be grateful. But she would not give him a chance.

At college, Chloe found her under the big tree in the courtyard.

"There you are! I went to the café last night to bring you cake, and Mr. Bell said you quit." Chloe dropped onto the grass beside her. "Why?"

Elena kept her eyes on her sketchbook. "I do not think I can work there anymore."

"But you loved it."

"I know."

"Is it because of that tall man? The sponsor?" Chloe waited. Elena said nothing. "Elena. Are you hiding something from me?"

Elena made herself smile. It was a small, tired smile, but it held. "No. It is nothing. I just need a change. I will find another job."

Chloe studied her face for a long moment. Her eyes were wide and worried. Then she sighed and bumped her shoulder against Elena's.

"Okay. But if it is a bad thing, you tell me, yes? I can hit people with my paint box."

"I know you can."

Elena laughed. It felt like a lie, and she hated it. Chloe had given her so much. But the truth was too heavy to hand to anyone.

That evening, she heard Alexander's key in the door.

She was in the studio, painting a blue sky with no one in it. When she heard his steps in the hall, she put down her brush, wiped her hands, and said through the door, "Goodnight, Alexander. I am very tired."

A pause. Then his gentle voice. "It is only seven o'clock."

"I know. I am sorry."

She waited. After a moment, his footsteps moved away.

The next morning, she left for college before dawn. That night, she ate toast alone in her room. On the third day, she took the back stairs to avoid the kitchen, and nearly walked straight into him on the landing.

He was holding two cups of coffee. He looked at her. She looked at the floor.

"Elena," he said quietly. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I am not."

"You climbed out of the studio window yesterday."

"It was stuck."

"The window or the door?"

A small laugh escaped her before she could stop it. He smiled, but his eyes were serious.

"I want nothing from you," he said. "I promise. I only want to know that you are safe, and that I have not frightened you."

Her chest ached. "You have not frightened me. You have been kinder than anyone has ever been."

"Then what is it?"

She opened her mouth. For one second, the truth sat on her tongue. I am married. I am running from my husband. I do not deserve your kindness.

His phone rang.

He glanced at it and sighed. Behind him, the front door opened and a man in a dark suit stepped in, out of breath. He bowed his head slightly.

"Mr. Cole, forgive me, sir. The board is waiting. They need your answer on the Singapore deal today."

Alexander closed his eyes for a second. "Tell them tomorrow, Richard."

"Sir, it is four hundred million..."

"Tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

The man bowed again and left.

Elena stared. "What was that?"

"Nothing. A client." Alexander rubbed his neck, a little embarrassed. "A man who does not know how to relax."

"You must have very rich clients."

"A few."

She nodded and looked away. Of course. A gallery owner sold paintings to rich people. That was all it was. She did not see the way he held his cup too carefully. She did not see that Alexander Cole had never in his life told a board to wait.

He was the CEO of Cole Global. He had built it from nothing. By any count, he was richer than half the men in the country. But in this small gallery, in front of this tired girl, he wanted only to be a man who brought her coffee.

"Drink it," he said, and held out the cup. "It is getting cold."

She took it. Their fingers did not touch. She made sure of that.

In the Blackwood house, the evening was soft and golden.

Sophia sat on the sofa with a glossy magazine open on her knee. She turned a page, stopped, and gave a small gasp.

"Oh, Adrian. Look at this."

Adrian stood by the window, a glass in his hand, looking at nothing.

"Adrian?"

"What?"

"Come and look. Please."

He crossed the room and glanced at the page. It was a handbag, cream colored, with a gold clasp, sitting alone against a white background.

"It is so beautiful," Sophia sighed. "I saw it in a shop in London, but I was too shy to buy it. It is only a little expensive."

He looked at the price printed in tiny numbers. It was the cost of a small car.

"Send me the details," he said. "I will transfer it to your account tonight."

Her whole face lit up. She jumped to her feet and threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank you, baby. You are so good to me. I love you."

She pressed a kiss to his lips. It was a soft, warm kiss, and he stood still and let it happen.

But his mind was far away. He was thinking of a yellow café. A folded apron on a hook. A man in a grey scarf holding open a car door.

Sophia pulled back and smiled up at him. "You are thinking about something."

"Work."

"You always are." She touched his cheek. "Come. You are tired."

Later that night, she followed him upstairs. He did not stop her. The door closed behind them, and the lamp went out.

But even in the dark, with her arms around his neck, Adrian lay awake in his own thoughts. He saw a girl with blue paint on her thumb. He heard a soft voice say, It is fine. And no matter how hard he tried, he could not make the picture go away.

It was past midnight when his phone buzzed on the table.

He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Sophia, and took the call in the corridor.

"Sir," Marcus said. "I have the report on Mr. Alexander Cole."

"Go on."

"It is not what we thought. He is not only a gallery owner. The gallery is a hobby. He is the founder and CEO of Cole Global."

Adrian's hand tightened on the phone.

"Sir, Cole Global is worth almost twice as much as Blackwood Group. He has offices in six countries. He is one of the richest men in the region." Marcus paused. "And, sir, he does not appear in any magazine. He is very careful to stay hidden."

Adrian stood in the dark corridor, very still.

The man in the grey scarf, the man who held doors open for his wife, was richer and more powerful than he was.

And Elena was living under his roof.