I say nothing. He’s so, so stubborn.
“By the way, I saw the coat you sent me.”
It was an impulse that made me put it into the things I sent to the Aylster. I regretted giving it back for a moment, since it was doubtful he remembered the frozen ice block of a girl.
“It’s amazing that you kept it for so long,” he says. “I never thought I’d see Miss Hot Chocolate again.”
The memory of the hot chocolate surfaces—how soothing it was to hold something warm and take comfort from a stranger who showed more kindness than my own family. Something cold and hard in my heart shivers, giving a little, like a glacier shifting under a relentless sun. “You remember.”
“Of course.”
I smile a little. “You made an impression. Mr. Cashmere Coat. You were the only one who actually listened. Mom was busy feeling loved by Roderick. He was busy playing the loving partner to Mom and carrying on an affair with his assistant. Grandfather was too important and disapproving to encourage me to speak. If I hadn’t met you in Paris, I might’ve run away for real.”
“I wish I’d recognized you when we met in my office. I thought about you—how you’d turned out.”
“Well, what do you think?” I spread my arms, trying to keep our conversation as light and meaningless as possible.
He looks at me with an odd pride. “I could not have imagined better.”
My heart misses a beat.What am I doing?I raise my shield higher, refusing to let him affect me again.
The limo stops, and the driver opens the door. Sebastian steps out and extends a hand. I take it, feeling his fingers wrap around me securely. The gesture’s sweetly protective—and possessive.
Ignore the sensation.I look at a tall block of a building in front of us. It’s one of the most boring I’ve ever seen. No windows. A high, sloped roof and a drab beige exterior. The parking lot is empty except for the limo.
“This isn’t a restaurant. And even if it were, it’s definitely not open,” I say.
“It better not be open.”
“Did you rent the whole place again?”
“Not exactly.” He ushers me toward the building. He pulls out his phone and runs the screen over the security panel, then presses his thumb over the smooth screen.
The light on the panel turns green, and the door opens with a soft click.
“Sebastian, what’s going on?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
“If I trusted you less, I might think you were trying to kidnap me or something.”
He laughs.
“I’m serious—”
The words die as the interior brightens. Bronze statues dot the huge, open space. On the wall are a few paintings, but my focus returns to the statues.
“Are theseFrançois’s works?” I can’t keep the awe out of my voice.
“Yes.”
“But didn’t Barron Sterling buy them all? He doesn’t let anybody see them.”
“That isn’t why he put them into this windowless gallery,” Sebastian says. “He doesn’t want any sun damage.”
I laugh. “I know that, silly. I was just wondering about the voodoo spell you must’ve cast to get him to open this gallery for us.”
“I asked his girlfriend.”
