Chapter 11 - THE KISS HE FINALLY ASKED FOR
Cora returned to work in April.
The hospital review found no evidence that she knowingly participated in criminal activity at the auction.
Her complaint file was closed.
Her access badge was restored.
And Priya insisted on taking a photograph of her standing beneath the Saint Bridget's sign.
Cora hated photographs.
Priya took twelve.
"You're impossible," Cora complained.
"I'm documenting history."
"You're documenting my terrible hair."
"Same thing."
They laughed.
For the first time in months, Cora felt ordinary.
And ordinary felt wonderful.
Julian and Cora began meeting for coffee.
Then dinner.
Then walks along the Brooklyn waterfront.
Nothing extravagant.
No private rooms filled with powerful men.
No expensive gifts.
Just two people discovering how much they liked talking when nobody was threatening either of them.
Julian learned that Cora hated olives but loved terrible detective novels.
Cora learned that Julian collected vintage radios and had never successfully baked anything.
He told her about growing up with Adrian.
She told him about Elena's paintings.
Sometimes they talked about painful things.
Sometimes they didn't.
And slowly, the memory of the auction kiss became less frightening.
One evening, they walked through Brooklyn Bridge Park.
The skyline glittered across the river.
A cold wind moved through Cora's hair.
Julian took off his coat.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Don't."
He looked surprised.
"You're cold."
"And you're not?"
"I'm fine."
"You're wearing a sweater thin enough to qualify as optimism."
He laughed.
Then put his coat back on.
"Fair enough."
They continued walking.
After a while, Julian stopped.
"Cora."
She turned.
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
She smiled.
"You can try."
His expression became serious.
"When we first met, I kissed you without permission."
Cora nodded.
"I remember."
"I've regretted that."
She studied him.
"Good."
He smiled faintly.
Then looked down.
"I wasn't trying to be cruel."
"I know."
"But I used your presence without asking. And afterward, I treated you as though it meant nothing."
She swallowed.
"That was the worst part."
Julian's eyes softened.
"I know."
Silence settled between them.
Then he asked, "May I kiss you now?"
Cora's heart accelerated.
For a moment, she remembered the dark auction room.
The gunfire.
The cold wall against her back.
His mouth covering hers.
The fear.
Then she looked at the man standing in front of her.
No hands holding her in place.
No threat.
No urgency.
Just a question.
She smiled.
"Yes."
Julian stepped closer.
His hand touched her cheek.
Slowly.
Giving her time to move away.
She didn't.
Their kiss was gentle.
Warm.
And so different from the first that Cora felt tears gather behind her eyes.
When they separated, Julian rested his forehead against hers.
"Better?" he whispered.
She laughed softly.
"Considerably."
He smiled.
Then grew serious.
"Cora, I don't know whether I'm the kind of man you should love."
Her expression softened.
"That's not something you get to decide for me."
He nodded.
"I know."
She took his hand.
"But I do know I care about you."
His eyes widened.
"Really?"
She laughed.
"Try not to look so shocked."
He smiled.
"I'm trying."
That night, Julian received a call.
His attorney.
Victor Voss had been arrested.
Felix Mercer was also in custody.
The investigators had secured additional records, including communications about Elena Whitaker's death.
Julian's expression changed.
"What communications?"
His attorney hesitated.
"Julian, there's something you need to know."
A long pause.
Then he said, "Elena didn't die in an ordinary car accident."
Cora stood beside Julian, watching the color drain from his face.
May you like
He turned toward her.
And for the first time, she saw the full weight of what the truth might cost.
