Chapter 6
SLOANE
The studio was alive with color. Light poured through the oversized windows, catching on the mosaic of paint splatters that had long since claimed the floor. Sloane sat cross-legged in the middle of it all, a blank canvas before her and a vivid swirl of red and gold dancing on her brush.
Her thoughts whirled, every one of them tracing back to Catherine Harrington. Her sharp blue eyes, colder than steel. That measured, deliberate way she spoke. And yet, the kiss—Catherine had let go, just for a moment, and it had been enough to set Sloane’s thoughts racing.
“She’s not the kind of woman you text,” Sloane muttered to herself, dipping her brush into the paint. “She’s the kind of woman you challenge.”
The canvas began to take shape under her hands, bold strokes of red clashing against golden streaks. The piece was messy yet deliberate, a reflection of what Sloane saw in Catherine, a battle between restraint and raw emotion.
As the painting came to life, so did Sloane’s plan. Texting was too impersonal, but showing up at the hospital again would risk being predictable. She needed something unexpected, something that would make Catherine stop, think, and feel.
When the paint dried, Sloane reached for a simple wooden frame. She secured the painting carefully, then flipped it over to attach her note.
On the back of the frame, she taped a handwritten note:
“Dr. Harrington, you accepted one dare. I wonder if you’re brave enough to accept another. Scan the code.”
Next to the note, she affixed a small QR code. Hours earlier, she’d created a simple, elegant landing page. When scanned, it revealed a message with an address underneath:
“Tomorrow, 7 p.m. Let’s see what happens when you stop playing it safe. – Sloane”
Sloane glanced at the clock. Too late for a personal drop-off; besides, she didn’t want Catherine to feel cornered. She called her favorite courier service, explaining the importance of the delivery. “Straight to her office. No stops, no delays. Can you do that?”
The courier confirmed, and Sloane handed over the package, her heart racing as the door clicked shut behind them.
“She’ll get it,” Sloane whispered to herself, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Now, let’s see what she does with it.”
The rooftop restaurant was a perfect blend of vibrant charm and intimate elegance.
Perched high above the city, the space offered sweeping views of glittering skyscrapers and streets below, barely audible beneath the gentle buzz of conversation and the soft strains of live music.
String lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a golden glow over tables adorned with flickering candles and minimalist floral arrangements.
Sloane had chosen the venue deliberately. It was a space that reflected her, a mix of energy and warmth with an edge of unpredictability. She wanted Catherine to feel both drawn in and slightly off balance, intrigued by the setting as much as by Sloane herself.
She had specifically reserved a table at the edge of the terrace, where the city’s lights would frame their evening like a backdrop from a movie.
Sloane stepped onto the terrace, her tailored jacket catching the light as she adjusted her silk scarf. It was bright, electric blue with streaks of gold, a subtle nod to the painting she had sent Catherine.
Her confidence was natural, her steps purposeful as she approached their table.
But beneath her assured exterior, a tangle of excitement and nerves churned.
She rarely second-guessed herself, but there was something about Catherine that made her heart race and her thoughts stumble in the best possible way.
Taking her seat, she leaned back, her gaze sweeping over the terrace. The restaurant’s energy matched her mood, lively but with an undercurrent of intimacy. She couldn’t help but glance at the entrance every few moments, her mind flitting between anticipation and curiosity.
She’ll come, Sloane thought, a grin tugging at her lips. She has to.
Precisely at 7 p.m., Catherine stepped onto the rooftop. The ambient glow of the string lights highlighted the sharp elegance of her figure. She wore a tailored black dress, understated but impeccably cut, paired with sleek heels that clicked softly against the stone floor.
She moved with purpose, her confidence evident in her posture and the steady gaze that scanned the room. But for someone who appeared entirely in control, there was a subtle tension in her shoulders, a guardedness that suggested she wasn’t as composed as she appeared.
Sloane noticed her immediately, her heart skipping a beat. She stood as Catherine approached, a smile playing on her lips.
“Dr. Harrington,” Sloane said, her voice warm as she extended a hand. “Right on time. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be late.”
Catherine arched a brow, taking Sloane’s hand briefly before settling into her seat. “I don’t like to keep people waiting.”
Sloane chuckled, her eyes sparkling as she sat down across from her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Catherine’s gaze flicked around the terrace, taking in the ambiance with a faintly approving nod. “Interesting choice,” she said finally.
“Interesting good or interesting bad?” Sloane asked, tilting her head.
Catherine met her eyes, her expression unreadable. “Let’s just say I’ve never been anywhere quite like this.”
She’s stunning, Sloane thought, her grin widening. And she knows it. But there’s something behind those blue eyes, something even she doesn’t want to admit.
As the waiter approached with their drinks that Sloane chose in advance to ensure a smooth start, Sloane leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed but her focus entirely on Catherine.
The terrace was alive with conversation and music, but for Sloane, the only thing that mattered was the woman sitting across from her.
And as Catherine lifted her glass, her fingers poised and her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile, Sloane felt the evening truly begin.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” Sloane began, breaking the silence. “Thought you might be allergic to anything too…fun.”
Catherine’s gaze didn’t waver as she lifted her glass, her movements as deliberate as her words. “I don’t scare easily. You should know that by now.”
Sloane grinned, leaning back in her chair as she swirled her drink. “Good. I’d hate to think I misjudged you.”
Catherine took a sip, her expression giving nothing away. “You make a habit of judging people quickly, then?”
“Not judging,” Sloane corrected, her eyes gleaming. “Assessing. There’s a difference.”
Catherine’s brow arched slightly. “Is that what this is? An assessment?”
Sloane’s smile widened. “More of an experiment. I wanted to see if you’d actually show up.”
“And now that I’m here?”
“Now”—Sloane raised her glass in a mock toast—“I get to see if you’re as fascinating as you look.”
Catherine set her glass down, her posture as composed as ever. “Flattery won’t get you far, you know.”
Sloane chuckled, taking a sip of her Old Fashioned drink. “Good thing I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m just stating facts.”
Catherine’s gaze flicked to Sloane’s drink. “That’s an unusual choice.”
Sloane held up her glass with a smoky mezcal concoction, the sprig of fresh herbs brushing against her fingers. “Bold, smoky, with a little heat. Keeps things interesting.”
“Interesting isn’t always good,” Catherine replied, her tone dry but her eyes faintly curious.
“True,” Sloane conceded, tilting her head. “But playing it safe doesn’t usually lead to much excitement.”
Catherine leaned forward slightly, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of the table. “You like to take risks.”
“And you like to play it safe,” Sloane countered. Her grin turned mischievous. “Opposites attract, right?”
Catherine’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “That remains to be seen.”
As the conversation continued, Sloane turned up the charm. Her words, always playful, now carried an edge of intentionality, a challenge wrapped in teasing warmth.
“You’re a puzzle, Catherine Harrington,” Sloane said, her voice low and almost contemplative. “All sharp edges and hidden corners. I can’t decide if I want to solve you or get cut trying.”
Catherine’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no denying the flicker of intrigue in her gaze. “Careful. You might find something you don’t like.”
“I doubt that,” Sloane replied smoothly. “But I’m willing to take the risk.”
Catherine’s cool facade wavered just enough to reveal a glimmer of amusement. “You seem to enjoy provoking people.”
Sloane leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping. “Only the ones who make it worth the effort. Like you.”
The waiter cleared their table, but neither Catherine nor Sloane seemed inclined to move.
The terrace was quieter now, with fewer patrons lingering, their conversations reduced to murmurs against the backdrop of the city below.
When Sloane suggested a walk under the stars, Catherine hesitated but she eventually stood, much to Sloane’s surprise.
The terrace opened up into a broader space, the city sprawling beneath them like a living tapestry.
String lights overhead swayed gently in the breeze, their golden glow casting long, soft shadows across the stone floor.
Sloane led them toward the edge, where the view was uninterrupted.
She walked with easy confidence, her hands tucked casually in her pockets, while Catherine followed carefully, her heels clicking softly in the quiet.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sloane said, leaning forward against the railing, her voice quiet but warm. “Something about seeing the city from up here…it feels like anything’s possible.”
Catherine stood a step away, her posture upright and composed. She took in the view, the endless shimmer of lights blending into the night sky. “It’s…a good perspective,” she replied finally, her voice as restrained as ever.