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“I thought that would be obvious. I wanted to hurt Patrick by taking away something important to him. And it’s gone even better than I thought. You clearly had to get close to him to get the painting and then betray him. Wonderful. Plus, I imagine you’ve learned an important lesson about whether or not you should spy on my company. All in all, I would say this has gone exactly as I planned.”
The pieces of the puzzle fell into place and Emma felt a new wave of fear wash over her.
“You set me up.” Her voice came out wobblier than she wanted.
“Did I?” Aleksander chuckled again. “I don’t think so. You’re the one who infiltrated Patrick’s company and stole his painting. There’s no record of our work together, and you have possession of the painting. I think any investigator worth their salt will be able to put together what happened. You, a corporate spy, decided to steal a painting. I had no role in it.”
“You can’t do this.” Emma felt the walls closing in around her. This was so much worse than she’d imagined. She’d betrayed Patrick for nothing. She’d end up in jail anyway the moment Patrick reported the painting stolen. Aleksander was right; there was no record that he had been behind the theft. The blame would come down on her.
“Hmm. I think I can. But don’t worry, Emma. I’ll keep my word. I won’t turn you in to the police. I’ll let Patrick do that for me.”
And then the line went dead. Emma stared at the phone in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Wild ideas whirled through her head. Maybe she could reverse the heist and return the painting. Maybe she could explain to Patrick what had happened. Maybe she could somehow find evidence against Aleksander.
But as soon as each idea came to her, she dismissed it. The damage had been done. She’d resigned from work and removed her presence. She’d stolen the painting. Even if Patrick let her back into his home, there was very little chance she could pull off her heist again. And if she explained to him what had happened, she’d end up in jail anyway. There was no way he’d be able to forgive her. Emma wasn’t sure she could forgive herself.
It wasn’t even about the painting, although that was bad enough. It was that Emma had gained Patrick’s trust, grown close to him, even spent the night with him, and then betrayed him.
Her work as a corporate spy had always had its share of lies. She’d lied about her name, using a long line of pseudonyms as last names to obscure her identity. She’d invented references and job histories. She’d sneaked into offices late at night to take pictures of documents. She’d downloaded secure files and sent them to her clients. She’d even recorded a few conversations with a tiny microphone pen. Emma knew that none of it was exactly right, but she’d always figured that it was okay to walk the line between right and wrong.
After all, her previous jobs had never hurt anyone. She’d always refused to take any job that could hurt an individual person. Companies were a different story, but Emma knew well enough that the companies she’d spied on bounced back after some time. A CEO of a company she’d stolen information from had even posted an op-ed about how the document release had actually helped the company improve their ethical standards in the long run.
So, stealing Aurora had been wrong. Emma knew it. But she knew just as well that Patrick could recover eventually from the loss of a painting. The loss of a woman who he might have felt a real connection with would be much harder to swallow.
Even if he weren’t going to turn her over to the police, Emma wouldn’t have been able to confess to Patrick. Not only did she not feel like she could face seeing him again, it wouldn’t be fair to him to stir up the miasma of emotions all over again.
No. She needed to pull herself together. Eventually, the police would probably come for her. It was only a matter of time before Patrick called them. But until then, she would care for Aurora and try her best to forget Patrick. Maybe, if she were very lucky, she’d have a chance to return the painting and apologize someday.
As unlikely as that felt now.
Another tear rolled down Emma’s cheek. Everything had gone so very wrong.
CHAPTER 16
PATRICK
Patrick went through the rest of his workday in a kind of haze. He hadn’t been able to find more than a scrap of information on Emma anywhere online. More and more, he wondered if she’d existed at all.
When five o’clock came, he closed his computer and left, even though he’d barely done any work all day. He just couldn’t focus on anything.
On the cab ride home, he replayed each moment he’d spent with Emma. He remembered seeing her that first day, their meetings in the office, riding the elevators up and down in the morning and evening. He remembered seeing her at the charity gala in her stunning dress, those magnificent curls all around her face. He remembered holding her in his arms as they swayed together that night.
And then there was the gallery visit in Cincinnati — when they’d almost kissed and had spent hours talking about painting after painting. Finally, the most painful memories came back to him, and he thought of Emma just last night, sitting beside him, talking to him, laying back in his bed as he kissed her with a passion he’d never known before.
How could Emma be real? There was no information about her anywhere, and she seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth between last night and this morning. Plus, she’d been so private about her past and had only shared a few stories with him — and not exactly of her own volition. She’d only opened up when he’d really pressed her.
Yet, how could she not be real? He’d held her in his arms just hours ago, and she’d been perfectly real then. Most importantly, there was no reason why she would have joined the company, gotten involved with him, and then disappeared this morning. It still didn’t make sense.
When Patrick finally got back to his apartment, he was exhausted despite the early hour. The effort of trying to find any trace of Emma had left him tired and worried. He poured himself a glass of wine and sank onto his couch. He needed a way to pass the evening, preferably without thinking about Emma.
Her suggestion that he needed a passion outside of work came back to him and he snorted. This would be a perfect time to have a hobby. Any hobby.
Patrick drifted his gaze around the room in hopes of finding some inspiration. His eyes soon landed on Aurora. Just like this morning, the painting seemed to reflect his dark mood. He looked on, toward the window, then felt his gaze being drawn back. Something was off about Aurora, and it wasn’t the usual way that the painting seemed to shift based on the light or the day.
Patrick slowly set down his wine glass and stood to examine the painting more closely. As he came closer, he noticed a few details weren’t quiet right. The brush strokes were… freer, as though the artist was painting happily. The effect was muted yet colorful — and it was not how Aurora was. The sky looked brighter, as though the sunset had just begun. And that color blue hadn’t been available in the 1800s. Even though Patrick was no art historian, he was sure of that.
There was only one explanation. This wasn’t Aurora.
For a long moment, Patrick was confused. He kept looking at the painting and tried to figure out how this could look so like Aurora but be a forgery.
