Page 10 of Vow Of Fire

“Besides, I heard he shops here often,” he added, like the gallery was a Target or Walmart.

“I don’t appreciate you sneaking back here and then asking me about other clients,” I said snootily.

His lips curved into a sinister smile. “I was just leaving, Ophelia.”

I started at him confused. “That’s not my name.”

He’d already called me Evelyn, so he knew very well what my name was. And he couldn’t possibly know about the Millais painting above my bed. He’d never stepped foot into my apartment, nor was he ever going to.

He circled the desk. “You remind me of a Pre-Raphaelite muse.”

The reference had my pulse racing, even though I was beyond annoyed at his arrogance.

To my surprise, he raised a hand and brushed my cheek with his knuckles. I recoiled, which only made him chuckle.

“Are you as colorful in real life, Ophelia?” His gaze ran down the length of my body, from my chiffon neckline all the way to the flared silk skirt of my dress. “Or are you as rigid and unyielding as you look?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. The space suddenly seemed too small for the both of us. He was so close I could see the silver specks in his irises. Beautiful eyes.

Beautiful but cold. Did all the Marcellis have ice flowing through their veins?

“I think you should leave,” I said coldly.

He tilted his head. “You sure you won’t reconsider my offer for the Reyes? It’s a good one.”

“I told you, it’s already sold.”

He gave me one last lingering look, then nodded, and turned back down the hallway. I took a moment to gather myself.

But when I returned to the gallery, Dante and his sister were gone.

3

SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED AND SLIGHTLY FREAKED OUT

Evelyn

Ilocked up the gallery and made my way home. My stiletto heels clicked on the wet sidewalk as I walked, my faux fur coat wrapped tightly around me.

What a night!

We’d had three reserves before the doors even opened, thanks to the online catalog. One private commission and six red dots, including the hotly contested The Fire Within. Chloe had handled the international side, processing a sale from a collector in Geneva.

Vincent was ecstatic.

I allowed myself a smug smile. The gallery’s future was safe for now.

I passed the Soho Grand, its silver awnings still dripping from the earlier rain, and then a closed flower shop, where white peonies wilted elegantly behind the fogged glass. Streetlights shimmered in the puddles, while steam billowed from grates as if the city itself were breathing.

This was my New York, and I loved it.

I’d been walking for almost five minutes when I heard heavy footsteps on the asphalt behind me, but when I turned around, there was no one there. Whoever it was must have turned a corner or gone into one of the apartment blocks stretching into the dark sky.

Shaking off the chill, I kept going. I didn’t normally feel unsafe in a city filled with so many people, except the rain had kept everybody indoors, and the sidewalks were mostly empty at this hour.

I probably should have taken a cab, but I’d been so on edge that I needed the walk to help me wind down before bed.

This was all his fault.