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“I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thank you.” Patrick nodded, and Emma left the office.
Over the rest of the day, he ran into Emma twice. The first time was at the coffee machine in the kitchenette, where they exchanged a polite and professional greeting, and the second was when she was waiting at the elevator with a group of her colleagues as Patrick came back from lunch. This time they just nodded at each other, but Emma sent him a smile that had Patrick grinning to himself all the way back to his office.
Maybe it was time to lean into this. Patrick still had his reasons why dating was a bad idea and, specifically, why dating an employee was a bad idea, but Emma was clearly special. He kept getting distracted by thoughts of her, and when they were together, conversation flowed as easily as if they’d known each other for years. The thought of kissing her was electric.
And it was clear that Emma felt the same way about him. He’d seen her going out of her way to be near him and the way she blushed when he complimented her. He’d seen how she smiled when she saw him and how she spoke as freely as he did.
Patrick and Emma were two adults who clearly felt some kind of connection. Perhaps that was worth exploring, despite all the reasons Patrick was hesitant to get involved with anyone. Maybe just this once it was worth a try.
What was the worst that could happen?
CHAPTER 9
EMMA
Emma looked down at her dress and let out a sigh. She’d found the dress, which was a dark blue, floor-length number, at a thrift store, but it was in good condition and looked lovely. It solved one of her main problems with the event, the fact that she had nothing to wear. The new problem was that she felt like an imposter in it.
Patrick was probably going to think so, too. After all, he was used to hobnobbing with CEOs and the generationally wealthy, not with underpaid (and currently unpaid) corporate spies. Worse, Emma couldn’t get her curls to behave. They kept leaping out of her bun as if they were just as worried about the event as she was. If she didn’t know better, she’d think they were trying to escape.
Well, there was nothing for it. Emma made one last attempt to wrangle her hair and ended up with a half-up, half-down style that looked passably polished. Then she smoothed her dress, grabbed her clutch, and left her studio. She’d insisted on getting to the event on her own, which seemed like a terrible idea now that she was in heels and an evening gown.
One long bus ride later, she emerged onto the sidewalk outside of an art gallery she’d seen a few times in passing. It was lit up with white fairy lights that gave it an elegant and magical look. Emma picked her way up the stairs, taking care not to twist an ankle, checked in with the greeters, and made it through security.
Inside, the gallery was just as lovely as it looked from the street. It looked similar to other galleries she had visited in the past, with walls full of gorgeous art and the usual crowd of art aficionados. At first glance, the art appeared to be mostly portraits from a variety of time periods, but Emma didn’t have time to examine it closely just yet. She was distracted by the other guests, who were dressed in elegant evening gowns and suits. They looked just as sophisticated as the art itself.
A quick glance into the room next door showed a collection of round tables draped in tasteful burgundy tablecloths. At the front of that room was a small stage with a podium. A few people were seated at the tables, talking and mostly likely networking, but the room was still largely empty.
Emma looked around for Patrick and quickly spotted him standing with a group of well-dressed men. A little nervously, she wove between the groups of guests toward him. This evening was far glitzier than any event she’d attended before, and she was a little worried that she might make a fool of herself.
“Emma!” Patrick caught sight of her when she was about halfway across the room and beckoned her over. Emma smiled at him and fell into step with the group. “Let me introduce you to everyone. This is Ruben Adams. He’s here as a personal collector this evening, but he heads up Lightning Communications. Kareem Minat is the gallery owner.”
Emma shook hands with each man as Patrick introduced them. She tried to maintain a confident smile, but she couldn’t help feeling like a minnow trying to swim with the whales.
“And this is Aleksander Ariti, a good friend from college.” Patrick gestured to the last man, and Emma felt her heart sink to her toes as she turned to face none other than her blackmailer. Aleksander gave Emma a toothy smile and extended a hand. Emma’s stomach turned.
“And this is Emma Reynolds, a rising star at LWC,” Patrick concluded with a smile at Emma.
Emma hardly saw the smile, though. Her attention was too focused on Aleksander. What was he doing here? He was an art collector, too, as she well knew, but why did he have to be here? Now?
“Nice to meet you,” Aleksander said. Emma noticed with a jolt that his hand was still extended and reached out to shake it. His grip was just a little too firm to be comfortable. “Emma, was it?”
You know all too well what my name is, Emma wanted to say. But she just nodded.
“Yes. Nice to meet you, too.”
“What our dear Patrick fails to mention is that as well as being a college friend of his, I’m also the head of Ariti Industries. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with our brand?” Aleksander gave Emma an overdone expression of curiosity. He was toying with her. And, from the glint in his eye, he was enjoying himself.
“I’ve heard of it.” Emma accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter with a quick “Thank you.” She needed some liquid courage to keep herself standing here and talking to Aleksander.
“Well, our current claim to fame is being the largest investor in up-and-coming art in the Midwest,” Aleksander continued. “Which, if I’m not mistaken, means that we beat out LWC.”
“Well,” Patrick flashed an insincere smile. “That’s true enough, but I think we also need to consider the quality of the acquired art. Weren’t a few of your pieces recently exposed as having dubious provenance?”
Aleksander shot a look at Emma, but she just looked down at her glass. She obviously hadn’t said anything about the Lady in White, the painting she’d been investigating when Aleksander caught her in his office a few weeks ago. Yet it seemed that forged provenance wasn’t exactly a new idea for Ariti Industries — someone else must have uncovered similar misconduct.
Aleksander waved a hand dismissively. “Unproven allegations only. You know how people like to make a fuss when they lose.”
