Ina burst through the doors of Le Bernardin. The cold Manhattan wind hit her face, cooling her flushed cheeks. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air.
She hailed a cab immediately. "Guggenheim Museum," she ordered the driver. She needed to work. She needed to bury her panic under logistics and art.
When she arrived at the museum, Ina threw herself into the preparation for the upcoming charity art exhibition. It was her only remaining professional responsibility.
She stood on the curved, white balcony of the second floor. She was pointing and giving directions to two workers hanging a massive abstract oil painting.
Suddenly, the sharp, echoing click of designer heels rang out from the ground floor lobby. It was accompanied by a high-pitched, overly sweet female laugh.
Ina instinctively grabbed the white railing and looked down.
Her stomach plummeted.
Buren Warner was walking into the museum. He had changed into a dark navy suit. He looked immaculate, showing zero signs of the ice water she had thrown at him an hour ago.
Hanging off his right arm was Alex Stone. Hanging off his left arm was his younger sister, Gigi Warner.
Ina panicked. She scrambled backward, hiding her body behind a massive, solid marble sculpture near the railing.
She held her breath. Her heart pounded so loudly she was afraid it would echo in the cavernous museum.
Down below, Alex pointed at a painting. "Oh, Buren, buy that one for me! It matches my dining room."
Buren's voice floated up, cold and bored. "Buy it yourself, Alex."
Gigi suddenly stopped walking. She tilted her head, looking up toward the second-floor balcony. "Wait. Did I just see Ina Holman up there?"
Ina slapped both hands over her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Buren followed his sister's gaze. He looked up. His sharp eyes instantly locked onto the shadow cast by the marble sculpture.
Even from a floor away, Ina felt the physical weight of his stare.
Buren smoothly detached himself from the two women. "I need to use the restroom. Go look at the modern wing."
Ina heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of his leather shoes ascending the spiral ramp. He was coming up.
She looked around frantically. The workers had blocked the emergency exit with crates. She was trapped.
Buren's tall, imposing figure rounded the corner. He walked straight behind the marble sculpture, cutting off her only escape route.
He stepped closer, forcing Ina to back up until her spine hit the cold, white wall.
Buren raised his arm and planted his hand flat against the wall beside her head. His large body completely caged her in.
He leaned down. The familiar, intoxicating scent of cedarwood and mint invaded her lungs. His warm breath brushed against her ear.
Ina turned her face away, her jaw tight. "What do you want from me?" she hissed.
Buren let out a low, mocking scoff. "You really are ungrateful."
He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing her skin. "That Page Six article. The photo with Alex. I called the paparazzi myself."
Ina froze.
"I used Alex as a decoy," Buren whispered, his voice dark and smooth. "I walked her out the side door to draw the dogs away from the presidential suite. I cleared your name."
Ina slowly turned her head. Her nose almost brushed his cheek. She stared into his eyes, completely stunned.
"Is this how you treat the man who saved you from a public crucifixion?" Buren asked.
Ina's brain spun. The solid wall of hatred she had built against him cracked. She looked deep into his dark eyes and, for the first time, saw a strange, fierce protectiveness hiding beneath the cruelty.
"Buren? Where are you?" Alex's annoying voice echoed from the ramp below.
The spell broke. Buren straightened up. He looked down at Ina's confused, trembling lips.
He turned and walked away without another word, leaving Ina pinned against the wall, her heart racing for an entirely different reason.
