Get the APP hot
Home / Romance / Midnight in Manhattan
Midnight in Manhattan

Midnight in Manhattan

5.0
14 Chapters
Read Now

Emma Rodriguez, a talented but struggling artist from Brooklyn, lands her dream job as a curator at Manhattan's most prestigious art gallery. Her world collides with that of Alexander Stone, a mysterious billionaire tech mogul who seems to own half of Manhattan. As their unlikely romance blooms against the glittering backdrop of New York City, a dangerous enemy lurks in the shadows, someone who will stop at nothing to destroy everything Alex has built, and everyone he loves. But the villain isn't who Emma expects. With each revelation, she discovers that the person hunting them has connections to both their pasts, weaving a web of deceit that threatens to tear them apart just as they're falling in love.

Contents

Chapter 1 The Gallery Opening

Emma Rodriguez smoothed her black dress for the tenth time. Her hands shook as she checked her reflection in the gallery's bathroom mirror.

"You can do this," she whispered to herself. "It's just one night."

But it wasn't just one night. Tonight would make or break her career.

The Whitmore Gallery buzzed with Manhattan's elite. Women in designer gowns sipped champagne while men in thousand-dollar suits discussed art they probably didn't understand. Emma had dreamed of this moment for years. Now, at twenty-six, she was finally here.

"Emma!" Her boss, Victoria Whitmore, glided toward her. "The Times critic just arrived. Make sure he sees the Monet first."

Emma nodded. "Of course."

She grabbed a tray of champagne glasses and wove through the crowd. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Three months ago, she'd been serving coffee in Brooklyn. Now she was curating one of New York's most important art exhibitions.

The evening sparkled around her. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over priceless paintings. Laughter mixed with classical music. Everything was perfect.

Until she saw him.

A man stood alone near the back wall, studying a small watercolor. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than her rent. His dark hair was perfectly styled, but something about his posture seemed... lonely.

Emma found herself walking toward him. She didn't know why.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said softly.

He turned. Emma's breath caught. His eyes were the deepest green she'd ever seen. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, lips that looked like they rarely smiled.

"The brushwork is extraordinary," he replied. His voice was smooth, cultured. "The artist captured something most people miss."

"What's that?"

"Hope hidden in darkness."

Emma stared at him. Most people looked at the painting and saw sadness. This man saw deeper.

"You have good taste, Mr...?"

"Stone." He extended his hand. "And you are?"

"Emma Rodriguez. I'm the "

A server bumped into her from behind. Emma stumbled forward. The champagne glass flew from her hand, sending golden liquid across the stranger's expensive shirt.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry!" Emma grabbed napkins from a nearby table. "I can't believe I just, This is your shirt, and it's probably worth more than my car,"

"It's fine." His voice was calm, amused even.

"No, it's not fine! You probably have somewhere important to be, and now you're covered in champagne, and"

"Miss Rodriguez." He caught her wrist gently. "Breathe."

Emma looked up at him. He was smiling now. A real smile that transformed his entire face.

"I have dozens of shirts," he said. "But I've never had champagne thrown on me by such a passionate curator."

"How did you know I'm a curator?"

"Lucky guess."

Victoria's voice cut through the noise. "Emma! Come here, please."

Emma's stomach dropped. Victoria stood with three important-looking men, and none of them looked happy.

"I have to go," Emma said. "Again, I'm really sorry about your shirt."

"Don't worry about it." He pulled out his phone. "Actually, could I,"

"Emma! Now!"

She hurried away, leaving the mysterious Mr. Stone standing alone. Victoria's face was ice-cold.

"Do you see that man you were just talking to?" Victoria whispered harshly.

Emma glanced back. Mr. Stone was gone.

"The one who left? Yes, I accidentally spilled champagne on him. I was apologizing."

Victoria's expression shifted from anger to something Emma couldn't read. Fear?

"That was Alexander Stone."

Emma shrugged. "Okay?"

"Emma." Victoria grabbed her arm. "Alexander Stone owns this building. He owns half of Manhattan. He's worth more money than some small countries."

The world seemed to tilt. Emma felt sick.

"I spilled champagne on... Oh no. Oh no, no, no."

"What exactly did you say to him?"

"I... I babbled about his shirt being expensive. Then I called him passionate about art." Emma's face burned. "Did I just lose my job?"

Victoria was quiet for a long moment. Then she smiled.

"Actually, I think you might have just saved it."

"What do you mean?"

Before Victoria could answer, her assistant appeared at her elbow.

"Mrs. Whitmore? Mr. Stone's assistant just called. He wants to schedule a private viewing tomorrow. He specifically requested Miss Rodriguez as his guide."

Emma's mouth fell open.

Victoria laughed. "Well, well. It seems you made quite an impression."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Emma smiled, chatted with critics, and explained paintings. But her mind kept drifting to green eyes and an expensive ruined shirt.

At midnight, she finally escaped to the gallery's back alley. The October air was crisp, clearing her head. She'd survived her first major exhibition. Better than survived, she'd somehow impressed one of the city's most powerful men.

Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.

"Thank you for a memorable evening. Looking forward to tomorrow. - A.S."

Emma stared at the message. How had he gotten her number?

Then she remembered Victoria's assistant taking her phone earlier to "update the contact list."

A chill ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. In the space of one evening, her entire life had changed. She'd gone from nobody to someone who had captured Alexander Stone's attention.

But as she walked toward the subway, Emma couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She turned around twice, but saw only empty streets and glowing windows.

At the corner, she paused under a streetlight. A black car sat parked across the street, engine running. She couldn't see through the tinted windows.

Emma quickened her pace.

The car followed her for three blocks before disappearing into traffic.

By the time she reached her apartment, Emma had convinced herself she was being paranoid. Rich men probably had drivers. It was nothing.

But as she climbed the stairs to her fourth-floor walkup, one thought echoed in her mind:

How had Alexander Stone known she was a curator before she told him?

Continue Reading
img View More Comments on App
MoboReader
Download App
icon APP STORE
icon GOOGLE PLAY