a had dressed carefully for this meeting not in her usual artistic, slightly paint-stained clothes, but in a professional black dress that she had bought yea

when the receptionist said he was busy, Elara had said she would wait. She had sat in the sleek lobby for

Elara had followed her to the elevators, her heart pou

rmous, all glass and steel and minimalist furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the city below like a c

ok up immediately. When he finally did, his blue eyes were cold and assessi

ontrolled. "This is unexpected. I don't typic

rself to stand tall despite the trembling in her

f his mouth. "I'm not doing anything, Miss Vance. I'm simply conducting

ith anger now. "You've been sabotaging my suppliers, scaring away my

d, his tone conversational, as if

mitted. "But I

prime location. From a purely economic standpoint, it makes sense for me to acquire the property and develop it. You're fig

s his life's work. It's a place where artists can be discovered, where beauty

or might have been contempt. "Your father's gallery is a relic of a dying era. The world doesn't care about art, Mi

ere to cry. She had come here to fight. "There has to be something I can offer you,"

culation happening behind his eyes. He was assessing her, weigh

d slowly, "there m

leaped with

d, the words falling b

s certain she had mish

will save your gallery, pay off your father's medical bills, and ensure that your family is financially se

erstand if this was some kind of c

pay for what I want. Your gallery is valuable to you, and I'm offering

ne," Elara

ntion, your gallery will be bankrupt within three months. Your father will lo

fer would be the biggest mistake of her life. But as she looked at Julian Thorne at the cold, controlled man

o think about

my original plan. Your gallery will be bankrupt, your father will be in a nursing home, and you'l

ed. As she rode the elevator down, she caught her reflection in the polished steel. She look

choice di