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She dropped her head into her hands. There were no good options here. Stealing the painting now felt like the ultimate betrayal, but she couldn’t think of what else to do. Emma felt almost overwhelmed by guilt and sadness. If she could have just slipped back into bed with Patrick, she would have done so in a heartbeat.
Emma glanced at the time on her cell. At least it was only two in the morning. There was still plenty of time to replace the painting before Patrick woke, as long as she was quiet. That seemed like the only stroke of luck she was going to get.
As quietly as she could, she slipped out of the bathroom, tiptoed across the living room, and returned to the elevator. A key card sat on a small shelf near the door. Emma vaguely remembered Patrick using it in the elevator the day before, so she took it and put it in her pocket.
The whirring of the elevator felt horribly loud. Emma kept glancing over her shoulder, half expecting Patrick to emerge from the bedroom, bleary-eyed and confused. Part of her even wanted to be caught just so this whole charade would be over. But he didn’t come out, and she got in the elevator and rode it down to the lobby alone.
A new doorman had replaced Carl at some point during the evening. He gave Emma a pleasant nod but didn’t ask any questions as she walked confidently across the lobby and entered the bathroom. She returned to the same stall as before and retrieved the painting from behind the ceiling panel.
At the bathroom door, she hesitated. If the doorman saw her walk by with a painting case, and Patrick later reported Aurora as stolen, it would certainly point suspicions her way. Yet another reason why I’m not made for the world of art heisting.
After a moment’s consideration, Emma took off her sweater and draped it over the painting. It was still a very suspicious bundle, but at least it didn’t look as much like a painting case anymore.
She hurried back across the lobby. To her immense relief, the doorman was absorbed in his phone and didn’t look up as she walked past.
Back in Patrick’s apartment, she returned to the living room and leaned the forgery against the wall. Then she paused to listen for any sound from the bedroom. Nothing.
Emma took a deep breath and opened the painting case. The forgery inside looked even flatter and less professional next to the real thing. Still, there was no other option.
She carefully removed Aurora from the wall. Over the last few weeks, she’d developed a plan to remove and transfer it without damaging the painting at all. Now, she put that plan into action. After some work with the frame, Aurora was safely stowed in the painting case and the forgery was hung on the wall in exactly the same position as the original. Emma stepped back to take in her work. At first glance, it could pass for Aurora, but upon closer inspection, it was clearly different.
Patrick would notice.
And hopefully, when he did, he would also notice the tiny message she’d left for him.
But by then, Emma would have given the painting to Aleksander and would be finished with this job. Perhaps she’d even move to another city. Yes, that seemed like the best of the bad options that remained.
Emma closed the painting case and lifted it into her arms. She cast one final look at the forgery, then at the bedroom where Patrick was still sleeping, blissfully unaware of what was going on right under his nose.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Then she left his apartment and made her way into the dark night, the Aurora by her side. Last night had been her first with Patrick — and her last.
CHAPTER 14
PATRICK
Something was off.
Patrick woke to sunlight streaming through his bedroom window, which was unusual in and of itself. He usually woke before dawn to the sound of his alarm. Today, there hadn’t been one.
And Emma was gone. Patrick got out of bed and looked around the room as if expecting her to jump out of the closet.
“Emma?”
There was no reply. Patrick left his bedroom and walked through his condo. Maybe Emma had gotten up to take a shower or make some coffee. But the condo was empty, and she was nowhere to be seen.
He paused for a moment in front of Aurora, as he did each morning. The painting seemed to mirror his own feelings of strangeness and worry. Something was a little off about it, but Patrick wasn’t in the mood for art appreciation at the moment. He was too worried about Emma.
What had happened last night must have made her uncomfortable. Patrick thought back to how good it had felt to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to finally hear a few fragments of her history. For him, it had been a perfect evening and a perfect night. The thought that she hadn’t felt the same way was like a kick to his gut.
After all, for her, it had been a night spent with the CEO of her company. Maybe she was worried about how this would look to her colleagues or if it would have an impact on her standing at work. Or maybe opening up to him had felt uncomfortable for her.
Patrick completed his loop around the house, but his hopes of finding Emma in the bathroom or the kitchen lowered significantly with each step he took. She had left. She must have slipped out late last night or early this morning.
He took a deep breath. It would be fine. He’d see her in an hour or so at work. He would ask her to step into his office for a few moments, and then they’d be able to talk. He could reassure her that the time they’d spent together had no impact on her work and that he’d never announce their relationship to anyone unless she wanted him to.
And he could tell her how much she meant to him. Maybe that had been the problem, too. Maybe Emma thought he wanted a one-night stand. A few weeks ago, he would have said he didn’t want anything more. After all, Patrick had arranged his life to avoid significant romantic commitments since he was in high school. Even when he’d first met Emma, he’d tried his best not to get involved with her.
