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My tinted windows concealed me well enough as she clicked past in the heeled yellow shoes I’d also bought her, cheap-suit man sticking like a bur to her side.I watched her retreat in my side-mirror, my chest burning.

Her plan to disappear had worked for a while.But I’d found her now, and I wouldn’t let her out of my sight again.

She took the dozen long steps leading up to the art gallery, then disappeared from my sight.

My gut clenched, the powerful need to run after her and keep her close almost overwhelming.Instead I pushed my seat back and got comfortable.Patience was a virtue and I was feeling extremely virtuous after my tireless pursuit.

I exhaled long and deep.It’d been two years, seven months and five days since I’d last seen her.

Not that I was counting.

My muscles twitched and I sat up again.Fuck it.I’d waited long enough.

I pushed open my door.Staying here wasn’t achieving anything.

One way or the other, she’d be mine.

Chapter Two

Gemma

Iclutched my coffeetightly and shivered with distaste as I stepped away from Gregory, though I couldn’t solely blame him for the fear skittering up and down my spine.

Something felt...off.Either that or I was being paranoid.

I exhaled roughly.Whatwaswrong with me?I’d been living my own life, accepting of my fate, my future without the man in it I’d loved with every scrap of my existence.I mightn’t ever be carefree, might not ever be completely, utterly happy, but I’d been safe.I’d moved on...sort of.

Gregory stepped beside me as we headed toward the gallery.He glanced my way with a knitted brow.“Is everything okay, Fi?”

I grimaced at the nickname he’d given me from a name that wasn’t even my own.Fiona.It was so...uninspired.What I’d give right now to be Gemma once again, and to hear Evander calling me by my real name.

I shook my head.I must be going mad, my anxiety catching up on me.I forced a smile as we climbed the steps toward the brick and steel building that had housed so many beautiful works of art.“I’m fine,” I said brightly.“Why do you ask?”

We stepped inside the gallery, my heels clacking across the brightly patterned mosaic tiles, which were a work of art in themselves.My stare swept across the artwork, which featured an up and coming artist who was fast becoming a star in the art world.Chase Holland.I knew the name well enough, many people did now, but I didn’t know his face.He was a recluse, a hermit who didn’t like to mix with other people.

I’d thought he might be a little bit crazy.Art buyers loved to interact with the creators of their favorite pieces.Now I was beginning to think he was clever.He was the great unknown and everyone was intrigued.