Page 133 of Suite 7

“I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks.” Genuine warmth. “You’re a good brother, you know that?”

His voice through the door gives nothing away. I know what that costs him.

“You’ve mentioned it.”

She laughs. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Her footsteps retreat, and then the door closes.

Kane doesn’t move. Ten seconds. Then he exhales — one long, controlled breath — and turns toward the corner.

I step out from behind the canvas. My heels still in my hand. My dress twisted. My heart hammering.

He looks at me.

“Not a word,” I say.

“You hid behind a Rothko.”

“I said not a word.”

He holds out his hand. I take it, as I’m standing on legs that aren’t entirely reliable. I catch my reflection in the dark window: lipstick slightly destroyed, hair displaced, eyes too bright.

The two of us here in the quiet while his sister walks the gala floor looking for me in good faith.

I let the weight of it settle fully before I open my mouth.

“She was worried,” I say. Flat. “Walking around that whole gala, actually worried about me.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“And she told you right to your face that you deserve someone uncomplicated and you said I hear you and she has no idea⁠⁠—”

“Vera.”

“She doesn’t even know it yet and I’m already the thing she’d want to protect you from.”

His jaw works. He lifts his hand toward me. “You’re not⁠⁠—“

“Go.” I turn to the window, find my reflection in the dark glass, apply my lipstick with hands that are barely steady. “She’s waiting.”

He looks at me for a moment — the complicated expression still there, still unresolved. Then he nods.

Becomes Kane Sinclair, Principal Architect, good brother, professional host.

I know all the versions of him. That’s the problem. That’s why I can’t stop.

He leaves without another word.

I count to sixty.

I sit on the ledge and put my heels back on. Then the door opens quietly. The corridor is empty. I move back through it the way I came and find a side exit near the end of the hall. Once outside I press my back against the brick and breathe.

My phone buzzes.

Gerald: She’s going to look for you near the main entrance.

Gerald: I should have been more careful tonight. I’m sorry.