Chapter 7 #2
“I just want you to be happy,” she whispered against my hair. “That's all I've ever wanted for you.”
I clung to her, guilt forming a lump in my throat that made it hard to breathe. “I know.”
We stayed like that for a long moment, the embrace saying all the things I couldn't put into words. When we finally pulled apart, I promised to come to dinner later in the week, to bring Rafe, to act like this was all normal and fine and not a ticking time bomb.
By the time I left Nouvelle Femme, the afternoon was fading into evening.
I took another taxi back to the penthouse, watching the city blur past through windows smudged with fingerprints from countless other passengers.
Each one with their own secrets, their own reasons for moving through this city that ate dreams for breakfast.
Edward opened the door before I could use my key, his expression perfectly neutral as always. “Welcome home, Mrs. de Luca.”
The title sent a shiver down my spine. Not my name. Not who I was.
“Is Rafe here?” I asked, shrugging out of my coat.
“Mr. de Luca called to say he would be late this evening.” Edward took my coat with practiced efficiency. “There was a delivery for you at the front desk. I took the liberty of bringing it up.”
He gestured to a single rose in a slim glass vase on the entry table. Beside it lay a small white envelope with my name written in flowing script.
My blood ran cold. “When did this arrive?”
“About an hour ago, madam. The doorman said it was left with the concierge.” Edward hesitated, perhaps noting my sudden pallor. “Is everything alright?”
I forced my face into a neutral expression. “Fine. Thank you, Edward.”
He nodded once and retreated, leaving me alone with the rose and the note. My fingers trembled as I picked up the envelope and extracted the small card inside.
I miss seeing you. You were the highlight of my day.
No signature. Just like the others. But this one was different—this one had found me here, in Rafe's building, behind security and doormen and all the protections that were supposed to keep me safe.
How had he found me? How did he know I was here?
I crumpled the note in my fist, then grabbed the rose and its vase and carried them to the kitchen.
The flower went into the garbage disposal, the vase into the recycling bin, and the note into the trash.
Evidence destroyed, at least physically.
The fear, however, remained, crawling over my skin like invisible spiders.
I needed a distraction. Maybe exploring the penthouse would help.
I started with the obvious places—the living room with its panoramic views, the formal dining room where I'd shared that tense first meal with Rafe, the guest rooms with their pristine, untouched appearance.
There was a home theater with seats that probably cost more than my old apartment's annual rent, a gym equipped with machines I couldn't name, a library filled with leather-bound books that looked too perfect to have been read.
It was on the west side of the penthouse, past a hallway I hadn't explored yet, that I found a room unlike the others—nearly empty save for a grand piano in the corner. The hardwood floor was bare, uninterrupted by rugs or furniture, stretching out like an invitation.
I stepped inside, drawn to the piano first. My fingers hovered over the keys, not quite touching.
Did Rafe play? I tried to imagine those hands—hands that had guided me from the club, that had slipped a ring onto my finger, that had gripped my wrist with controlled strength—creating music and found I could picture it too easily.
But it was the empty space that called to me most. The room reminded me of dance studios from my past—from my childhood lessons to the professional spaces I'd trained in during college, to the cramped practice rooms I'd rented by the hour when money allowed. Spaces where I was most myself.
I returned to the bedroom and dug through my suitcase, searching for the dance clothes I'd hastily packed. Black tights, a loose-fitting crop top, no shoes. I changed quickly, the familiar routine of preparing to dance settled over me like a second skin before I hurried back to the piano room.
Putting in my earbuds, I scrolled through my phone until I found a favorite song—something slow and haunting that had always moved me. I closed my eyes and let the first notes wash over me.
For a moment, I just stood there. What if Edward walked in? What if Rafe came home early? What if I'd forgotten how to really dance?
Then the music swelled, and my body remembered what my mind had forgotten. My arms extended, reaching for something unseen. My back arched, my legs unfolded, and suddenly I was moving across the empty space, spinning and leaping and surrendering to the rhythm that had been my first language.
This wasn't the provocative dancing from the club, designed to entice and entertain.
This was what I'd trained for, what I'd lived for—expressive movement that came from somewhere deeper than conscious thought.
With each turn, each extension, the weight of the past few days seemed to lift slightly.
The fear of the stalker's note, the guilt of lying to Evie, the confusion of my marriage to Rafe—all of it receded as I gave myself over to the dance.
My movements grew more confident as the song progressed. I forgot about the possibility of being watched, forgot about everything except the sensation of my body in motion, free in this unexpected sanctuary I'd discovered in the heart of Rafe's pristine penthouse.
For these few minutes, in this empty room with only the piano as witness, I wasn't Mrs. de Luca or Cece or even Cecelia. I was just a dancer again, moving through space the way I was always meant to, before life and failure and desperation had gotten in the way.
The song ended, and I came to rest in the center of the room, chest heaving, and a light sheen of sweat on my skin.
For the first time since Rafe had carried me out of that club, I felt like myself again.
Not whole, not fixed, but centered in my own body, connected to the one thing that had always made sense to me.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. I didn't know how to navigate this bizarre marriage or how to protect myself from the stalker who'd somehow found me here. I didn't know if I'd ever repair the trust I'd damaged with my sister or find a way to dance professionally again.
But for now, in this moment, in this room that would become my sanctuary whether Rafe liked it or not, I had found a small pocket of peace in the storm.