“We’ll be in touch,” he says and ends the call.
I lean back, eyes closed, forcing breath into lungs that refuse to expand.Christ, just hearing those words, that someone broke in, when I’d already been worried.
I wipe my palms on my trousers and as I do so, a memory surfaces.
White sheets, sunspots drifting across the ceiling, the scent of eucalyptus and her skin.Monaco.A weekend of light and laughter before she vanished.That weekend in Monaco was the first time I’d felt like I understood what Madame Vassante meant about the Star card—hope, guidance, finding your path.Brie had been my star, and I let her slip away into darkness.
“How lucky am I?Finding you in a bar in Monaco, when you work at an art gallery I pass every day.”
“Think of how many times our paths have crossed… All it took for you to see me was for the right aperture.”
I lifted her fingers from my chest and nipped at a nail, then pressed my lips to the back of her hand.
“Are you into photography?”
She laughed.The sound light and airy.
Yes, that hadn’t been work Brie.She’d been unmoored from the job that weekend.And what did she say?
“Psychology.That’s what I’m into.How the human mind works.”She tapped my temple and I caressed her breast.“What it captures.When and why.If you think about it, we’re in the same trade.”
“How do you come to that conclusion?”
I hadn’t held back on my family connection.On the contrary, I’d used it to lure her away for a night that by morning I wanted to extend infinitely.
“Isn’t that what fashion is?Garnering attention?Cultivating want?”
“If my father pitched it to me like that maybe I wouldn’t insist my sister take the reins.”
“What… You’re not?”
“No.That’s why I was at the bar last night.Let the old man know I wouldn’t be taking the title.”
“King?”Her smile had been so beautiful.
“CEO.”
“Same difference.”
I’d kissed her and positioned myself between her thighs.I’d been inside her maybe fifteen minutes prior but I couldn’t get close enough.
“Why don’t you want it?”
“My sister.It’s her passion.It’s not mine.”
She stiffened below me, ever so slightly.“Does your father not believe a woman can run the ship?”
It was my turn to roll onto my side, propping my head on my elbow, taking in the beauty beside me.“You know, you’re the first person who didn’t push on why I didn’t want it.Who didn’t assume that I’m lazy or a no-good oaf, and that’s why my father’s pissed.”
“You want your sister to follow her passion.That’s admirable.”
She got it.She got me.
The car pulls to a stop and I open my eyes.There are no cops.No crime scene tape.
Hell.They probably didn’t even call it in.
I hop out and am crossing the street as the driver calls, “Sir?Should I wait for you?”
