e tenth time. Her hands shook as she checked h
whispered to herself.
night. Tonight would ma
mpagne while men in thousand-dollar suits discussed art they probably didn't understan
ed toward her. "The Times critic just arr
ded. "Of
pounded against her ribs. Three months ago, she'd been serving coffee in Bro
s cast warm light over priceless paintings. Laughte
she sa
ore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than her rent. His dark hai
walking toward him.
l, isn't it?"
deepest green she'd ever seen. Sharp cheekbones, st
ed. His voice was smooth, cultured. "The a
t's
dden in
e looked at the painting and s
good tas
ended his hand.
driguez.
orward. The champagne glass flew from her hand, sendi
nearby table. "I can't believe I just, This is you
s voice was cal
ve somewhere important to be, and n
He caught her wris
smiling now. A real smile th
"But I've never had champagne thrown
u know I'm
ky g
hrough the noise. "Emm
tood with three important-looking
id. "Again, I'm really
He pulled out his phon
a! N
sterious Mr. Stone standing alon
were just talking to?" Vi
back. Mr. S
cidentally spilled champagne
ted from anger to somethin
Alexande
rugged.
e owns this building. He owns half of Manhattan.
med to tilt.
agne on... Oh no
ly did you
ve. Then I called him passionate about art."
for a long moment
nk you might hav
do you
answer, her assistant
He wants to schedule a private viewing tomorrow. He
mouth f
, well. It seems you ma
atted with critics, and explained paintings. But her mind
was crisp, clearing her head. She'd survived her first major exhibition. Bet
uzzed. Unkn
le evening. Looking forw
message. How had he
assistant taking her phone earl
the space of one evening, her entire life had changed. She'd gone
the feeling that she was being watched. She turned arou
black car sat parked across the street, engine ru
ckened h
r three blocks before d
ad convinced herself she was being paranoid.
to her fourth-floor walkup,
e known she was a cura