His mouth quirks into a half-smile. “Did you think I just moved money around all day? The Frost name opens doors, Elliot. My family has been part of this city’s financial backbone for generations.” He brushes soot from my cheek with gentlefingers. “Let me handle the insurance company. No matter what they find in their investigation, they will honor your policy.”
“The artists?—”
“Will be compensated fully. I promise you.”
The certainty in his voice wraps around me like a warm blanket, and for the first time since receiving that call, I take a full breath.
Julian cups my face between his hands, and before I can react, he kisses me. Right there on the sidewalk, in front of firefighters, police officers, and a growing crowd of onlookers. My body tenses, breath caught in my lungs as his lips press against mine.
When he pulls back, I stare at him wide-eyed. “Anyone could see us,” I whisper, glancing around nervously.
Julian’s thumb strokes my cheek. “Let them.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. After hiding so long, being kissed by a man in broad daylight feels like standing naked in Times Square. Everyone is focused on the burning gallery—the destruction of my life’s work—but still, the exposure makes my skin prickle with equal parts fear and exhilaration.
“We should go home,” Julian says. “You can’t do anything here, and you look like you’re about to collapse.”
He’s right. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving my limbs heavy and my mind foggy. But something feels wrong about walking away while my gallery burns.
“What if they need me for something?” I gesture vaguely toward the fire chief. “I should be here to answer questions, shouldn’t I?”
Julian nods, his hand finding the small of my back. “Let’s check.”
We approach Chief Donovan, who’s barking orders into a radio. When he sees us, he lowers it.
“Chief, how long do you need Mr. Chambers to stay?” Julian asks. “He’s in shock, and I’d like to take him home.”
The chief’s weathered face softens. “We have your contact information, Mr. Chambers. There’s nothing more you can do here today. We’ll be in touch once we’ve contained the fire and completed our preliminary investigation.”
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“Positive. Go home. Get some rest. We’ll call you.”
Julian guides me away from the smoldering ruins of my life’s work, his arm steady around my waist. I feel hollow, like someone has scooped out my insides with a rusty spoon. Each step requires focus as we move toward the sleek black car waiting at the curb.
“Easy now,” Julian murmurs when I stumble slightly. His voice anchors me to the present, preventing me from drifting back to the flames consuming my gallery.
His driver—Thomas, I think his name is—stands by the rear door, his expression professionally neutral despite the chaos behind us. Julian helps me inside, sliding in after me. The leather seat feels cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the fire.
“The penthouse, Thomas,” Julian says before raising the privacy partition.
As the car pulls away from the curb, I press my forehead against the tinted window, watching the smoke rise into the sky. My phone vibrates again—another artist calling, no doubt. I can’t face them yet. I turn off notifications and slip it back into my pocket.
“We’ll rebuild,” Julian says, his hand finding mine. His fingers intertwine with my own, warm and reassuring. “Whatever it takes.”
I want to believe him, but the weight of what’s happened crushes down on my chest. “She destroyed everything because I refused to hide anymore.”
Julian’s grip tightens. “And she’ll pay for that. I promise you.”
The car glides through morning traffic, isolating us in our bubble of quiet amid the bustling city. I close my eyes, suddenly exhausted. Julian’s thumb traces circles on the back of my hand, the gentle motion soothing my frayed nerves.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
Julian shifts closer, his shoulder pressed against mine. “That’s something you’ll never have to find out.”
We ride in silence after that, his presence beside me more comforting than any words could be.
28
