“How much would they like your paintings if I break your fingers?”
I’m on the edge. On the verge. If I squeeze much harder, his fingers will break. I’ve already done some damage to his wrist. He’s gone limp with the shock.
I give him a shake. “How much, Peter?”
“I can’t paint right-handed,” he bursts out. “Don’t do this. Don’t do this, man. I didn’t hurt her.”
“And now you never will.”
“I’ll leave her alone. I promise.” Oops. I did squeeze harder. Peter lets out a strangled groan. Probably a sprain. He’ll have to take a little time off. He’ll have to keep his mouth shut, if he doesn’t want me to ruin him completely. It’s so tempting. “I promise,” he says again.
I squeeze a little bit harder. Too close. Too close to the edge. I pull Peter’s head back from the painting and drive it into the wall again.
And then I let go.
He cowers against the painting. I pace back a few steps and pull my gloves out of my pocket. One goes on, then the next. I put all my emotions back where they belong. Silent. Still. Ordered. A whisper of concern crosses my mind. It’s more difficult to control myself when it comes to Daphne. Worse yet, she makes me want to feel things. Well—want is a strong word. She makes me curious about what it would be like to stop shoving my feelings away.
Peter can’t hide any longer. He turns away from the wall, holding his wrist with the other hand. In addition to being a fucking coward, a fucking piece of shit, he’s pissed himself. The painting behind him is ruined.
“I think that’s enough for today,” I announce. “I won’t be making a purchase.”
I leave him standing there. I’m in the middle of the gallery when he calls after me.
“You’re not going to say anything,” he says.
About him. This little worm is terrified I’ll walk outside and start talking. He knows as well as I do that it would only take a phone call or two, and Peter Clay would disappear from the art world. A few people might remember his name, but most of them would follow my lead. He’d never sell another painting.
“It would be best if you never brought yourself to my attention again.”
Peter Clay has no further questions.
Chapter Twenty-One
Daphne
The text comes in just as I’m picking up my phone after Leo’s wedding.
Emerson: Come with me.
Daphne: I can’t! I’m not in the city!!
It’s a lie, of course. I am in the city. Leo wanted to get married in his own church, and so he did. I didn’t know he still went to church. Any church, much less this one in the city.
Eva knows. He told me.
And for the first time, I got to watch how a secret hides in plain sight.
He simply announced that he’s getting married at this church, on this date, and refused to say anything else about it. He let people assume what they wanted. What they assume is that Leo is a Morelli son who only got married in the church to please his parents. They don’t know that my father complained bitterly about the location up until he got out of the car this morning.
They don’t know anything, really.
Emerson’s reply comes right away.
Emerson: I know where you are, little painter.
Emerson: You’re in the basement of St. Thomas’s church as we speak. Come to the sacristy.
My entire body heats, then freezes. He knew I was lying. He knows I’m here.
He could be here, too. Is he?
I’ve thought of him every day since the charity gala. Every minute.
At first, I tried not to answer his texts. There was Christmas, and wedding planning, and as much painting as I could fit in. But I couldn’t help myself. I texted him back.
I tried not to think of his mouth on my pussy. I tried so hard. The most important thing was to keep the peace with my brother, and help Haley, and be there for Eva. No matter what I wanted. No matter what bad, dangerous things I wanted to do.
If he’s here—
I run up the stairs to the main floor of the church before I can think about it anymore. If he’s here—if he takes me—
I burst into the sacristy and my heart sinks.
He’s not here.
There is only a single, white orchid in the middle of the table. He was close. He was in this room while I stood up in Leo’s wedding. He might have been watching me. Goose bumps run up and down my arms. I lift the flower from the table to feel one of the petals.
This is as close as Emerson has come to me since the gala.
Unless he’s been closer, and I didn’t know.
Emerson’s obsession is palpable. In the delicate stem of the flower. In the close air of the sacristy. He came into this church while my entire family was inside. That act alone is dangerous. How did he do it, I wonder? Pretend to be a guest? Or was he a shadow who came through a door while no one was looking?
“Daphne?” My sister’s voice echoes into the sacristy. “Where are you? The cars are leaving.”
I whirl around and shove the white orchid into my bridesmaids bouquet. A second later, Eva comes into view. She looks gorgeous in her silk dress. All of the bridesmaids wear custom designs. Eva’s idea, Leo’s money. I could wear mine again.
“Oh, there you are. What are you doing back here? Are you okay?”
“Just needed a second to breathe.”
And maybe run away. Maybe run straight into Emerson’s car. My blood is still hot with the idea of him in this church during Leo’s wedding. He was here. He left the orchid as proof. As a gift for me to find. It’s both sweet and terrifying.
“Your face is red.” Eva steps closer to smooth a tendril of hair behind my ear. “You sure you’re all right? Leo won’t mind if you hang out upstairs during the reception.”
“No way. There’s going to be champagne and dancing. I’m good, really. I think maybe I locked my knees during the ceremony.”
“Okay. Come ride with me?”
We step out of the church together a minute later. Cars line the sidewalk in front of the church. I try to find Emerson’s. I don’t see it, but I know he’s here. He asked me to come with him. Eva’s standing at one of the black SUVs, waving me forward.
“Come on,” she says, laughing. “I’m freezing.”
No more texts from Emerson. He’ll know by now that I left. I want to be at the reception. Leo’s my first brother to get married, and I don’t want to miss it.
It’s crazy to trust Emerson. It’s dangerous to want him.
Answering him at all is a risk.
But every time his name appears on my phone screen, my heart does something strange and good, like it’s trying to get out of my body and go to him. I know how it sounds. It sounds like I’m out of my mind. Snow comes down outside the window as we speed out of the city and onto the highway.
“What’s on your mind?” Eva’s mind is on her phone. She’s texting continuously, her thumbs flying over the screen of her phone.
“Is something going wrong at the house? Who are you texting?”
“The coordinator. I’m letting her know that Leo and Haley are five minutes ahead of us. The servers only have a couple minutes to get ready after they arrive.” She glances over at me. “But you’re staring out the window and mooning over something.”