e thickened, replacing the comforting scent of basil with the sharp tang of danger. Eliza

shing her wine glass back. She needed to draw a line immediately, though

ed the weight of authority. "Of course not. I knew you were here. I knew the momen

I'm an artist passing

nstantly transforming the intimacy of the space into a siege. "Ten years. You cut me out, walked away, built this b

raction and current fury. "Your front yard? This cit

rrected smoothly. He gestured to the waiter, who appeared instantly, anticipating Rocco's silent re

tied in blood and paperwork. I was being made. I had to learn to wear the crown before

o," she spat, pushing h

Not when we're finally talking. I don't ask for things anymore. I just take them. And right no

? So you can send a bouquet? Don't bother. It's an opening at the

perfectly placed to disarm her. "I understand abstraction better than anyone. It's how I run my business-y

hout tasting it. He then pulled a heavy, velvet-lined

For the

antly, she lifted the lid. Inside, resting on black satin, was a vintage, emerald-cut dia

o, I

he was thinking. "It's a declaration of interest. Wear it tomorrow night. I

t, her hands shaking. "Th

not pretending to look elsewhere. He lifted the glass of Barolo, toasted t

low, affected murmurs of critics and collectors. Eliza's sculptures-elegant, severe constructions of weathered copper and reclaimed ir

al of the morning's second gift: a small, personalized security detail, impeccably dressed, positioned discreetly at the gallery

d on high-strung energy. "And your work is absolutely flying off the wall. That copper piece-the one

f cold dread run down

ara leaned in conspiratorially. "Mr. Julian Vance is here. You know, The Julian Vance, from the Art Observer

egative review from him could ruin her career before it truly start

ersial piece, talking quietl

seem to bend to his will, he looked dangerously out of place and yet utterly supreme. He held a glass of dark liquor,

ure, a piece she had poured her own decade of isolation into, and explaining it wi

co looked up and his eyes instantly locked onto

eading through the in

emanded, pitching her voice

nd on Julian Vance's shoulder-a familiar, posses

I was explaining the genius of the artist. The way the oxidation reflects the degradation of a perfect memo

el approach. Mr. Valeriano has provided... significant context. I may have misjudged the structural narrative of the piece

cco, horrified. "Y

difference. He's a smart man. He understood that criticizing something I admir

success, Rocco! I wor

I ensured it went to a collector who had been lowballed and betrayed by a rival gallery. Now t

"Look around, Eliza. Everyone here is defined by who backs them. I'm simply making sur

to do with thi

r as the Valerianos, and not have our worlds bleed together? When I love, I protect. When I protect, I c

s hand along the elegant line of her jaw. His touch was electric, a decade

ing her lip. "No business. Just dinner. At my home. I want you t

e, shaky but firm. "I don't

fuse." He drew back, a cool, final smile on his face. "I'll send a

ssed energy of raw, undeniable power. Eliza stared at the space where he had stood, her successful opening suddenly feeling less like a personal triumph and more like a carefully executed te