Page 32 of Silence and Surrender

“You’re not helpless.”

Something heated flashed across his face, and the air between us felt electric. Each stroke of his thumb on my skin sent sparks up my arm.

The waiter appeared with our food, but Colton kept his hand on mine, ignoring his meal, watching me eat one-handed.

“Tell me about growing up in the countryside,” he said, voice rougher than before. “What was it like, surrounded by art and beauty?”

“Not as romantic as it sounds. Father’s estate was more of a laboratory than a gallery—paintings in various states of authentication, technical equipment everywhere. I learned more about pigment chemistry than princess stories.”

“No fairytales?”

“Oh, there were stories. About forgers so skilled they fooled experts. About lost masterpieces found in attics. About paintings that changed history.” I smiled at the memory. “Father could make art feel alive, like each piece held secrets waiting to be discovered.”

“You have that same passion when you work.” His voice dwindled to a murmur. “I’ve watched you examine pieces—completely focused, like nothing else exists.”

“You watch me work?”

I thought perhaps I detected a tiny bit of color touch his cheeks, but it was gone so quickly I must have imagined it. “I notice things. Details. It’s part of being a lawyer.”

“Is that all it is?”

The question hung between us, dangerous and tempting. His eyes met mine across the table, and for a moment I saw something raw and wanting. Then something darker flickered in his expression—not desire, but almost like fear. He pulled back slightly, removing his hand from mine.

“It’s late,” I said reluctantly, understanding he needed the escape. “We should go.”

Outside, London’s rain had stopped, leaving everything gleaming under streetlights. The air felt cleaner, fresher. Full of possibility. He walked me to my car, close enough that our shoulders brushed occasionally. Each accidental touch sent electricity through me.

“Thank you,” I said when we reached my car. “For dinner. For listening.”

He was close enough that I could smell his cologne, could see the caramel undertones in his brown eyes. For a heartbeat, I thought he might kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I felt myself sway slightly closer.

Instead, he stepped back, that shadow crossing his face again. “Be safe.”

I watched him walk away, his shoulders straight despite the hour. Remembering how his voice softened when speaking of his parents. How he’d transformed himself from someone who needed rescue into someone who did the rescuing.

Something was shifting between us, as inevitable as tide and time. Something that made my heart race and my hands shake.

The drive home passed in a blur of streetlights and memories. His hands. His voice. The way he looked at me like he saw everything I tried to hide. The way he made me feel less alone with my own ghosts.

For the first time since my father died, I let myself imagine trusting someone again. Let myself feel something beyond professional distance and carefully maintained boundaries.

Even if trust meant risking my heart.

But that was tomorrow’s concern. Tonight there was just this: The memory of his hand in mine. The warmth in his eyes. The way he’d made me feel seen. Understood. Real.

Chapter Fifteen

Colton

I checked my reflection in the mirror as I entered The Dorchester lobby, running slightly late for an encounter I was increasingly certain I shouldn’t be having. My phone buzzed again. It was another message from Isabella I couldn’t bring myself to read. Each one twisted deeper into my gut, the guilt becoming a physical presence pressing against my ribs, making it hard to breathe.

I’d had this set-up for several weeks, and I needed to go through with it. It was who I was. How I operated. If I stopped…if I went back to who I was before…

I just couldn’t.

“Good evening, Mr. Moreau.” The concierge nodded with practiced deference as I passed. I managed a curt nod in return, maintaining the persona that had become second nature over the years.

Inside, I was unraveling.

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