Page 39

Somewhere along the way, Blackwood had started to feel like home.

The conservatory came into view beyond the hedges, its glass catching the early light. I slowed. The glass seemed to glow, making the conservatory look less like a building and more like something alive. Now I couldn’t look at it without thinking of Alexander.

The man who had been occupying far too many of my thoughts was the same one who had pressed his lips to my wrist in the dark. In the elevator, his hand had tightened against the rail. His knuckles had given away what the rest of him tried so hard to hide.

I wanted to see him. Not the Chairman. Him. Lately, I noticed Alexander whenever he entered a room, and I had stopped pretending otherwise. The one who had met me under the chandeliers. The one who had allowed some of that control to slip. The one who had nearly kissed me. But this time, I wanted to shift the balance in my direction.

I had noticed his hands from the beginning. Now I knew what they felt like against me, and my imagination had become considerably less restrained. I wanted those hands in my hair, pulling me toward him. I wanted his mouth on mine. I wanted his breath mixed with mine.

The piano resumed somewhere above me. Schumann’s Träumerei. Dreaming. I smiled at the coincidence and continued along the path.

My phone buzzed as I headed back toward the residential entrance.

Charlotte’s name appeared on the screen. She sent a message with a photograph of a café menu and the words: This exists. In the theatre district. Let’s go for brunch. Today. We need to experience it.

I enlarged the photo. There were two full pages devoted to breakfast. Charlotte had found our kind of place.

Another message appeared. Also, there is a matinee at two. Donizetti. If you have no laboratory obligations and you are willing to acknowledge that rest days exist, let’s go.

She had me at theatre district. I have no obligations, I wrote back. Give me twenty minutes.

Three dots appeared immediately: Twenty minutes? Where are you?

I responded: I’ve been in the gardens.

Her reply came almost immediately. On a Saturday? Voluntarily? I’m so proud.

Very funny. I’ll reserve a car, I replied.

I slipped my phone back into my coat pocket and headed toward my suite.

As predicted, twenty minutes was all I needed. I changed into my favorite navy wrap dress. It was elegant and comfortable, a combination that was increasingly difficult to find. It also fell over my curves exactly right, adding confidence to its list of benefits. I paired it with nude knee-high boots and black stockings. I left my hair down, fastened Sofia’s necklace around my neck, and added the small gold earrings I usually saved for days away from the laboratory.

I paused briefly in front of the mirror. I didn’t look like I was headed to the laboratory or to a meeting. I smiled, picked up my coat, and headed downstairs.

Charlotte was already waiting in the lobby when I arrived. We greeted each other and made our way to one of Blackwood Hall’s town cars. The drive into the theatre district passed quickly, and soon a hostess showed us to a corner table beside the window. Charlotte studied the menu with the same concentration she normally reserved for editing one of her novels.

I looked over the menu. “This restaurant takes eggs seriously.”

“I know.” She turned a page. “I find that very reassuring in a café.”

“Most menus offer eggs. This one has written a soliloquy.”

“I know exactly what I want.” She set down the menu. “Unfortunately, I want three things.”

I laughed. “Then order all three. We’ll share.”

“All three?”

“Absolutely. And brunch is on me.”

“Emilia, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Nothing would make me happier.”

Charlotte smiled. “In that case, I accept.”

With our order placed, I prepared my coffee and looked out the window. The theatre district was beginning its Saturday. A man was hosing down the sidewalk outside a stage door and someone had taped a cast change to the inside of a box office window.