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This time, the person I hadn’t noticed had meant me no harm.

* * *

Alexander

I hadn’t meant to frighten her. My intentions mattered less than how my actions made her feel. Next time, I would make sure she knew I was there.

When she admitted she wasn’t all right, I had wanted to reach for her. To pull her against me and reassure her that whatever this was, I would make sure she was safe. The instinct had been immediate. Stopping had been the right decision. Wanting otherwise did not give me the right to assume she wanted the same.

I had seen enough to understand how completely Emilia could disappear into her work. Her ability to focus was one of the things I admired most about her. She had spent years pursuing Aurora through every obstacle placed in front of her. I had no desire to change that about her.

I would simply have to account for it.

The login attempts were another matter.

We still did not know whether they had originated remotely or whether someone had physically entered her office after she left. Three attempts had been made shortly after midnight, then stopped. There were innocent explanations, but I was not prepared to rely on one until Marcus had eliminated the alternatives.

He was looking into it now.

I had told Emilia there was every reason to believe the incident would prove less serious than it appeared. I hoped that was true. Hope, however, was not a security measure.

Until we knew more, I saw no reasonable alternative to increasing security around Aurora. Emilia had enough to think about already. There was no reason to worry her with possibilities that might prove to be nothing.

Chapter 7

Emilia

Charlotte arrived at my suite precisely at nine o’clock carrying two lattes, an umbrella, and all the excitement of someone who had been looking forward to this as much as I had.

“Good,” she said. “You’re ready.”

I laughed as she handed me the latte and stepped inside. “Thank you. This was exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome. I considered bringing pastries but then remembered we are shopping for dresses and decided they could wait until afterward.”

Charlotte crossed the suite, her gaze sweeping across the room before settling on the umbrella I had left near the door. “Bring that. It’s not going to let up.”

Most friendships in my life had formed gradually through shared work, mutual interests, and years of familiarity. Charlotte had skipped the entire process. She had simply decided we were friends and proceeded accordingly. I suspected resistance had become futile. But then again, why would anyone want to fight it?

A few minutes later, we crossed the lobby and stepped outside. A black sedan was waiting for us beneath the porte cochère.

“You arranged a car?” I asked.

The question seemed to surprise Charlotte. “No. Blackwood Hall did.”

Before I could ask what she meant, a uniformed driver stepped forward and opened the door.

“Residents can reserve a car whenever they need to go into the city,” Charlotte explained as we got comfortable in the back seat. “It’s one of the ways Blackwood takes care of us.”

I wondered what other conveniences were offered that I hadn’t learned about yet.

“Our appointment isn’t until one-thirty,” Charlotte said. “That gives us four hours to make questionable decisions elsewhere.”

We wandered through bookstores and spent nearly half an hour debating whether one of the small galleries we discovered was displaying modern art or conducting an elaborate social experiment. I had never been particularly good at interpreting what I found in galleries like that, but with Charlotte beside me, trying to understand it was half the fun. For perhaps the first time in years, I had nowhere else I needed to be.

Charlotte knew people everywhere. A bookseller greeted her by name. A woman at the café asked about her latest manuscript. Even the owner of a flower shop was delighted to see her.

“You’ve lived in New York your entire life, haven’t you?” I asked as we continued down a crowded sidewalk.