“Are you ever going to tell me what you and Jazz are up to?”
Elsa was lying with her head on Dante’s chest. They had spent more time in bed than out of it over the last few days, and she was still in a bit of a stupor from their most recent activities.
“Whatever are you referring to?” His voice echoed in her ear like the low rumble of thunder.
“Yesterday’s visit. I know she wasn’t just here to visit Winston.”
“No, she was also visiting you.”
“And you.”
Elsa knew they were planning something, but she actually didn’t care too much what it was. She was curious, but she trusted them. She was still getting used to the feeling.
“There is something I wish to show you.” Dante stroked her hair away from her shoulder, the strands tickling her back.
She raised an eyebrow. “You know, at some point, we really are going to need to sleep.”
“That is not what I meant. Although, now that you mention it…”
He rolled her onto her back, kissing her slowly, as if savoring every touch. He paused, then lifted himself on his elbows. “I thought we might go into town later.”
A spike of nervousness shot through her at the thought, but she knew they couldn’t hide in their home forever. She wasn’t sure when she had started thinking of her home as theirs, but realizing it made her happy. It was their home, for as long as he wanted to live there.
She pushed away the doubts that still chewed at the corners of her mind. All she had was this moment, and she was going to enjoy it. “Okay.”
“I do suppose our trip could wait a little while longer.” Dante nuzzled the side of her neck.
“Only a little?”
Elsa hadn’t been able to distract Dante for too long. The afternoon sun beat down on them as she drove her convertible toward town. He seemed to be enjoying the trip. He wasn’t even bothering to wear the mask Garrett had given him.
The sight of Dante smiling, his eyes closed and his face tilted up toward the sun, was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. His linen shirt was open to the wind, his long legs stretched out before him.
He looked so relaxed. It was all she could do to keep her concentration on the road, but she managed, focusing more intently when they crossed into the city limits.
She had a feeling they were headed for the gallery, and he didn’t correct her as she drove in that direction. Elsa found a parking spot as close as she could manage. By the time she stepped onto the street, Dante was there, offering his arm.
He didn’t lead her toward the gallery. Instead, they walked across the street, then down a few blocks. She wanted to ask him where they were going, but took a deep breath and used the opportunity to practice giving up control. Hopefully, someday it would be easier.
They headed up the walkway to an apartment building that gleamed brightly in the afternoon sun. White walls, glass and chrome gave it a modern look.
Dante smiled broadly as he opened the door for her and followed her into the lobby. She had never seen him so excited.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lucerne.” A dark-haired man in a suit approached them from across the large open space. He blinked when he saw Dante’s face, his smile seeming to stumble for a moment, but it passed quickly. When he reached them, he shook Dante’s hand. “Ms. Montgomery has been very busy. I hope you’re pleased with the results.”
“I’m certain we will be delighted,” Dante said. If he had noticed the man’s reaction, he wasn’t calling attention to it. Gesturing to Elsa, Dante said, “This is Miss Sinclair.”
“Ah, yes. Miss Sinclair.” The man bowed slightly, then shook her hand. He pulled a key out of his pocket and gave it to her. “Ms. Montgomery let me know to expect you.”
She stared at the key, her curiosity reaching a breaking point. Dante covered her hand with his, curling her fingers over the key. He slid his arm around her waist and guided her toward the stairs.
“Thank you, Charles,” Dante said.
When they had climbed to the third floor, passing a gorgeous waterfall built into the wall, Elsa said, “Charles?”
“I was able to accomplish a great deal on the day I ran errands with Rachel,” Dante said. He led Elsa down a corridor deeper into the building. “As you will soon see.”
Her stomach was doing flip-flops. She hadn’t decided yet if they were the good kind or the bad. But Dante was still smiling, his expression a mix of pride and happiness. She forced herself to smile back at him.
She kept telling herself everything was going to be fine. Whatever this mysterious surprise was, it was going to be good.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m just a little nervous, I guess.” That was another thing she was getting used to. Actually telling someone how she felt instead of pushing her emotions aside.
“Please trust me a little longer. I promise, I won’t disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me.”
Dante traced his fingertips over her cheek and along her neck. He bent down to kiss her briefly, then smiled as he stepped behind her. She was left staring at the door to an apartment marked 3B.
“Open it,” he said.
Her heart was racing as she unlocked the door and opened it. Dante gestured for her to go inside.
“After you.”
Elsa stepped into a loft with floors of honey-gold hardwood and bright white walls. All the fixtures were chrome, and the wall facing her was made of windows that climbed two stories. There were no curtains, light streaming in and reflecting off every surface, almost blinding her.
An island counter separated the kitchen area from the rest of the great room she stood within, and a spiral staircase led to a second level that covered half the loft.
“I shall return presently,” Dante said. “If you will give me but a few moments.”
“Okay…”
He walked up the staircase, leaving Elsa alone. She crossed to the windows, impressed by the spectacular view. Restless, she turned back to the great room and noticed an easel in one corner. There were shelves built into the wall behind it filled with paints, brushes and blank canvases.
A few abstract paintings hung on the walls. Aside from the art, splashes of color were added by a few bright cushions on the white couch. Some dyed glass vases filled with exotic flowers softened what otherwise might have seemed too starkly modern. There were more cushions in hanging mesh chairs suspended from the raised level above.
“Hammock chairs,” she murmured.
“Thank you for waiting.”
Elsa glanced back to the stairs. As Dante trotted down the spiraling metal, her breath caught in her chest.
Dark brown loafers had replaced his polished shoes, and he wore formfitting jeans that showed off his strong, long legs. His backside looked so good, she couldn’t imagine anyone not drooling over the sight. The linen shirt she was so used to was replaced by a comfortable-looking T-shirt, tucked in at the waist and accenting his perfect V-figure.
His hair was still mussed from their ride in the convertible, and he had spent so much time in the sun that it had lightened to a tawny brown. It hung around his face in flowing waves. Elsa wanted nothing more than to bury her fingers in it.
She stammered a bit, then said, “This is yours, isn’t it?” She looked around the loft again, tearing her gaze away from him for the briefest of moments.
He smiled as he approached, then leaned down and kissed her, leisurely exploring her, as if they had all the time in the world. Ending the kiss at last, he said, “I prefer to think of it as ours.” He paused, some of the enthusiasm leaving his voice. “Do you like it?”
“Dante, this…”
It was completely antithetical to the room that she had made for him in her manor. She had strived to recreate the home that she thought would comfort him, but she’d just been perpetuating a life he’d already decided to leave behind.
“If you do not like it, we can make changes,” he said. “I truly want this to be your home as well. I want you to feel welcome here—comfortable, as you made me feel when you opened your home to me.”
“I don’t understand how you did this.”
A sudden thought struck her, as she remembered Jazz and Dante’s quiet conversations that ended abruptly when Elsa approached. She glanced at his fingers, searching for what she already knew wouldn’t be there.
“Where is your mother’s ring?”
He took her hands in his and kissed each of them. “That ring has bound many lives together. My parents, and Mary and Edgar. Now, for us, in its way. Do not be distressed that it has been freed to continue its journey.”
Elsa’s heart tightened, but she nodded. She had already visited every moment she could connect to through the ring. They were both letting go of the past. This was Dante’s choice to make. Still, she would miss having it close.
He drew her into an embrace, kissing the top of her head. “You never answered my question. Do you like it?”
“I love it.” She laughed, wiping the back of her hand across her tear-filled eyes. “I knew it was your place as soon as I saw the hammocks.”
“They add a certain modern sensibility, don’t you think?” He said it deadpan, but then grinned.
She laughed again, and let him lead her farther into the loft. A few feet from his painting area, there was a writing desk with a cushioned chair. The wood was deep chestnut brown and the upholstery a rich gold. The design of the set was a perfect mix of classic and contemporary style.
“I thought perhaps this could be your writing desk,” Dante said.
Elsa felt tears on her cheeks. For once, she didn’t care. He had built a new life for himself, but had made sure there was a place for her in it, right at his side.
“Do you not like it?” he asked
“I love it.” She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a deep kiss.
When she finally released him, he laughed. “Well, I believe you have made your sentiment quite clear.”
“Maybe we should go upstairs so I can show you what I really think of the place.”
“As appealing as that sounds, there is one more stop on our trip, and I am afraid if I take you upstairs now, we will not leave this place for quite some time.”
“True.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“You seem to be in quite a hurry.”
She stopped, leaning in and running her hands up his chest, finally burying her fingers in his hair as she pulled him closer and kissed him again. She nibbled her way to his ear, tantalizing the sensitive skin until his hands were clutching the back of her shirt.
“The sooner we go,” she whispered in his ear, “the sooner we can come back.”
Dante groaned, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. “I am so tempted to stay.”
She stepped away from him, then grinned as she took his arm once more. Leading him toward the door, she asked, “Where is this mysterious second stop?”
“The gallery, of course.”
“Of course.”
They laughed the entire way back to the gallery, though she couldn’t remember exactly why. She was just so happy. She had never been so happy in her entire life.
Dante grew quieter when they entered the gallery, but he was still smiling as he led her into one of the back rooms. It was roped off, not ready for public viewing yet.
“If Jazz catches us back here, she’s going to be really mad,” Elsa said.
“Ah, but new exhibits are only off-limits to the public. They aren’t off-limits to the artist.” He stood in the center of the room, that same gentle smile on his face.
The artist? Her heart soared as she slowly spun around, taking in all of the paintings hanging on the walls. Dante’s landscapes. She was surrounded by his vision of the world.
Elsa had always thought his paintings were inspired, but seeing so many of them at once, seeing them all on display, they were breathtaking.
“Dante, this is—”
“Wait, this is not all of them.”
He put his hands on her arms, turning her around and guiding her toward the wall opposite the door. A large canvas covered with a sheet filled her view.
“I waited to let anyone see it until I had your approval,” he said. “I wanted to be certain that you are comfortable with it first.”
“Comfortable with what?” She looked at the nameplate as he worked the sheet loose. Portrait of my love.
Dante whisked the sheet away, revealing a portrait of Elsa sitting at her writing desk and staring off into the distance. There was a softness around her eyes in the painting that made her look vulnerable, a hopefulness in her parted lips, and a glow about her that made her heart catch in her throat.
“Do you like it?” he asked, stepping behind her and sliding his arms around her waist.
His secret painting. It was a portrait of Elsa.
“Is this how you see me?” She could barely speak, her throat was so tight with emotion.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and pulled her closer against his chest. “Yes. It is how I have always seen you. But you haven’t answered my question.”
“I love it.”
Dante let out a breath, hugging her more tightly. “I am so glad. But are you comfortable with me displaying it? I rather think it completes the exhibit.”
“I’m honored.”
She was more than honored. She could feel herself surrounded by Dante’s love, and for once, when she felt her soul stirring from the incredibly moving pieces of art around her, she was absolutely content to stay just where she was. She didn’t want to disappear. There was nowhere else she would rather be in the world—in the universe, in all of time—than right here in his arms.
He had managed to make a life for himself without her help, a life he wanted to share with her. He’d known her fears about him being dependent on her, and he had proven them baseless. She turned around, staring up at him.
“How did you do all of this?”
“I did not do it alone. Your friends have been incredibly supportive. Rachel took care of decorating our loft, and Jazz has been…” He shook his head, and said, “Amazing.”
“I still don’t understand—”
Dante leaned down and kissed Elsa before she could say anything else. He kissed her deeply, passionately, until her head spun from lack of oxygen. Or maybe it was just his arms around her, his closeness, the love and trust that were still so new to her.
“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” she asked when he let her come up for air.
“Only when necessary.”
He kissed her again, this time, presumably without ulterior motive. She let her fingers burrow through his hair, clutching him against her as if she would never let him go. But she would have to for just a little while, until they could get back to their loft.
They walked out of Dante’s exhibit room, arms around each other’s waists. Nothing stood in their way now. They could have the life together that she had always dreamed of. An even better one, because it was one they were going to create together.
They had almost exited the gallery when a loud crash, followed by swearing, caught their attention. From the stream of Mandarin that followed, Elsa knew Jazz was in her very rare freak-out mode.
Dante took Elsa’s hands and led her toward their friend. “We should find out if she needs assistance,” he said. Elsa nodded.
They found Jazz kneeling in the middle of another roped-off room. A display stand was on its side on the floor, brochures surrounding it. Jazz was on her knees, gathering them together.
“Let us help you,” Elsa said.
She knelt next to Jazz and started gathering brochures. Dante righted the stand, then set it down slightly off to the side so it wasn’t in their way.
Jazz said something else in Mandarin that had to be a curse-word. “Thanks. I’m running so far behind, and Rachel hasn’t shown up yet. The new exhibits open tonight, and—” Jazz looked up, as if seeing Dante and Elsa for the first time. “Oh, Dante. I’m glad you’re here. Is your exhibit ready? I want to open it tonight along with this one. Can you be here?”
“The exhibit is ready to show, however, I believe Elsa may have other plans for me this evening.” He gave Elsa a mischievous grin, running his hand down her back as he knelt beside her to help pick up brochures.
“Let me have him for one night.” Jazz turned to Elsa, waving brochures. “Honestly, I’m trying to start his career here.”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” Elsa said. “But you really need to calm down.”
“Calm down? Rachel decides to miss work for the first time ever on the opening night of not one, but two brand-new exhibits. And you want me to calm down?”
“She didn’t call?”
“No. And she’s not answering her phone, either.”
Elsa felt a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach. “That’s not like her.”
“Who knows what she’s like anymore. Ever since she started dating this guy.” Jazz gestured around the room. Only then did Elsa notice the art hanging on the walls.
A dozen portraits of women surrounded her. There was a brutality in the brush strokes, dark paints and shadows dominating each scene. All of the subjects were hiding their faces, cowering from view.
She stood up slowly, the fine hairs on her body standing on end. The brochures dropped to the floor from her suddenly numb fingers as she turned in a circle.
As expansive and filled with light and hope as Dante’s paintings were, these were the exact opposite. Elsa felt the weight of them crushing her. She collapsed into a ball, trying to make herself smaller, to get away from the feeling, but it was everywhere.
Snakes crawling on her skin. Ants in her veins. Sheer, naked terror.
There was no hope in this room. Only despair.
And then she traveled.
It wasn’t like any of the times she’d traveled before. She felt herself leave her body, but she moved straight up into the air and could look down and see the city beneath her. It was like she was flying, but she couldn’t control where she was going.
She felt herself being pulled away from the city, to an area sparsely housed and overgrown with palms and patches of Evergreen. She plummeted toward the earth so quickly that she screamed, though she knew no one could hear her.
When she landed, it took her a moment to realize that she had stopped. There was no light. She was so disoriented, it seemed she could feel the world spinning.
She heard a faint rattling noise. Chains. And then she heard a whimper. Someone was in the room with her.
A door opened and a light came on, casting the room in a harsh fluorescent glare. Elsa was in a garage completely filled with workbenches and shelves. Mason jars containing nails, broken glass and other bits and pieces sat in meticulous lines on every shelf.
The center of the floor held an easel, with a huge canvas visible above the tops of the workbenches. Two vaguely feminine forms had been outlined in what she thought at first was heavy graphite, but there was a weird reddish cast to it. One of the figures was just starting to be filled in with dark paints.
Michael stepped into the room, his hair tied back and a crimson smear on the front of his white shirt. His lips were pulled in a tight smile. He was wiping something bright and red from his hands with a towel.
“That was really stupid, you know.” He rubbed the towel over his shirt. “Now I need to take more.”
Elsa followed at a distance as he navigated the labyrinthine room. Chains were bolted to the far wall, ending in manacles around a woman’s wrists. She had her arms over her head and her blonde hair was matted and tangled. Her wrists were covered in rough cuts, blood coating the metal. She looked up at Michael, and Elsa felt as if lightning had struck her.
Oh God, she thought. Rachel.
“It’s a big night for me, Rachel,” Michael said. “You’re so selfish. This is my night. Mine!”
Rachel flinched as he yelled, hunching closer to the wall. Michael went to a cupboard and took out a mason jar and a length of plastic tubing attached to a needle. He carried them over to Rachel, then set them on the workbench nearest her.
As he bent toward Rachel, Elsa tried to get between them, to shove him away. Her hands passed through him.
“It’s okay,” he said, smoothing Rachel’s hair. “You all think you’re so much better than me, but I know the truth. I’m the one that’s going to make you immortal. What does that make me, Rachel? Think about what that makes me.”
Rachel let out a whimper as Michael stood. “I have to get ready for my opening. I’ll be leaving for the gallery soon. Just remember next time you want to throw a fit that I can always take more. And I will take more. Till there’s nothing left.”
Michael walked away, and Rachel collapsed against the wall, sobbing.
Before Elsa could do anything else, she felt as if a tether connected to her middle had suddenly been pulled taut. She found herself hurtling back over town toward the gallery. With a jarring jolt, she snapped back into her body, arms lashing out at whoever was holding her.
“Elsa! Are you all right?”
Glancing around, Elsa saw that she was in a different room in the gallery. Dante was on the floor next to her, holding her against his chest. Jazz hovered just behind him, one hand holding her phone and the other clasped over her mouth. Dante looked stricken, a deep furrow between his brow and his eyes wide with fear.
“Dante?” Elsa said.
“Thank God. I thought I’d lost you.” His arms tightened around her.
“No.” Elsa pushed him away, trying to get to her feet.
She didn’t have time to be comforted by Dante. Rachel was out there—scared, alone, hurt. Michael said he was going to the gallery, so she might be safe for a while, but what if he went back?
Elsa had to get to Rachel. To save her.
“What the hell, Elsa?” Jazz slid her phone back into its holder at her waist. “Was that some kind of seizure?”
As Dante helped Elsa to her feet, she realized she couldn’t save Rachel alone. And no secret was worth Rachel’s life.
“You need to call the police and paramedics, right now.”
Jazz pulled her phone back out, then paused. “Police?”
Elsa nodded. “Send them to Michael’s house.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Michael has kidnapped Rachel. He’s hurting her.” Elsa shook her head, the horror of what she had seen returning. “I think he’s going to kill her.”
“What are you talking about?” Jazz said. “Michael’s a little off, but—”
“Jazz, I’m telling you, I know this. I just saw him.”
“You saw him? How?”
Elsa reached down and found Dante’s hand, gripping it tightly, as if it was a lifeline. It was time to trust Jazz, to tell her.
“I can’t explain everything now, but that wasn’t a seizure. It was more like a vision.”
Jazz snorted. “What, you’re psychic now?”
“No. I mean, yes.” Elsa shook her head. “I honestly don’t know what I am. I’ve always been too afraid to research it.”
“Research what?”
“I can use art to leave my body and travel to other places and times.”
“This is really lame,” Jazz said. “You know I’m a believer.”
“Then believe me. Michael has Rachel. If you don’t want to call the police, fine. But at least tell me where Michael lives so I can go and help her.”
Jazz was still scowling. She crossed her arms and glared at Elsa.
She had no idea what to say. She’d spent so much time trying to hide what she could do, she never thought about people not believing her. Elsa had to convince Jazz to help.
“Please, Jazz. He’s hurting her.”