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“How was it different?”

“It somehow always seemed brighter. I think that’s where I first understood that rooms could change the way people felt.”

The server appeared beside us carrying two plates. Fresh pasta for me. Grilled sea bass for Alexander. A basket of warm bread appeared between us, followed by olive oil and a small dish of sea salt.

“I hadn’t realized I was hungry.”

“I suspected you might be.” He broke a piece of bread and placed it on my plate. “You hadn’t eaten in almost a day.”

His eyes met mine. “You spent yesterday and today taking care of everyone else. Allow someone to take care of you for one evening.”

I smiled. Once again, there was nothing I needed to organize, solve, or take care of. It felt peaceful. I reached for the bread and broke off a piece. It was still warm. We ate for a while before the melody slowed, settling into something gentler.

He stood and held out his hand. “May I?”

I remembered him asking me the same question on the balcony before gently removing my glove.

“You may,” I said.

His fingers closed around mine as he led me away from the table. We found a place by the fire. He held me closer than he had the night of the gala. Near enough that I could feel the heat of him through my dress, the strong press of his palm against the small of my back. I could feel his chest rise against mine and I knew that if I lifted my face even slightly, there would be nothing left between us. I waited.

We moved easily together as he led us through the dance. I didn’t think about where I placed my feet. I just followed him. The music gently came to an end but neither of us stepped back. His hand was still around mine. Mine was resting lightly on his shoulder.

I lifted my head. He was already looking at me. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, the touch so careful that I held my breath. His eyes searched mine. Not asking, not assuming, simply waiting to see if I was ready. I didn’t move away. We had decided.

He closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine with a gentleness that felt as though it had been waiting far longer than I knew. The kiss was slow. Warm. Certain. When he drew back, his forehead rested lightly against mine. He smiled. Barely above a whisper, he said, “Finally.”

Neither of us moved. He took my hand once more and, without a word, led me back toward the table. Our dessert had arrived while we were dancing.

A single tiramisu. Two spoons. The cocoa had been dusted so perfectly across the top that it was a shame to disturb it. Alexander picked up one of the spoons and handed it to me. We lingered in the courtyard until the candles burned low and the guitarist quietly packed away his instrument.

Tonight, there had only been the music, the fire, and the certainty that tomorrow could wait.

* * *

Alexander

Winston was waiting for me in the study when I walked through the door.

He lifted his head and looked at me before settling down once again. I crossed the room and scratched behind his ears before taking the reading chair beside him. Beyond the windows, Manhattan stretched across the night. This room always held a certain warmth, but it felt different tonight.

Finally.

The word had escaped before I had thought to stop it. Not because we had kissed. But because she had smiled. She had laughed. Tonight, she had forgotten the laboratory. She had forgotten the fire.

My phone buzzed. Marcus had sent me the update on the fire investigation. The preliminary electrical-fault finding was no longer being treated as conclusive. The panel had been removed and was being examined by Blackwood’s experts, who agreed that something about the damage warranted further analysis.

I replied with instructions to increase security around the Research Pavilion, install additional card readers, and audit every active badge to confirm it remained with the employee to whom it had been issued.

My attention settled on the Mercer collaboration. I was glad I had suspended it when I did. Until I understood what was happening around Aurora, limiting unnecessary access seemed prudent.

The interviews Emilia had asked me to arrange with the earlier trial patients presented the same problem. Those patients belonged to the earlier Helix trials. Giving Emilia access to them would take her another step closer to something I was trying to keep her away from. The interviews could wait.

Winston rested his head against my leg. I reached down, my fingers settling into the thick fur of his coat. I remained where I was, watching the evening lights across the city.

Finally. She had chosen it too.

Chapter 16