Chapter 18
351words
But as the elevator doors opened directly into his penthouse, revealing a space of modern elegance and unexpected warmth, I found I didn't care. Professional boundaries seemed meaningless in the face of what we were both pursuing—justice, revenge, or something else entirely.
"The guest room is down the hall," Felix said, guiding me inside. "I'll find you something to sleep in."
I nodded, too exhausted and drunk to argue. As Felix disappeared into what I presumed was his bedroom, I took in my surroundings—floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Boston Harbor, walls adorned with museum-quality art, furniture that managed to be both minimalist and inviting.
"Here," Felix returned with a neatly folded t-shirt and sweatpants. "They'll be too big, but better than sleeping in evening wear."
Our fingers brushed as I took the clothes, sending an unexpected jolt of awareness through me despite my intoxicated state.
"Thank you," I said, suddenly shy. "For everything."
Felix's expression softened slightly. "Get some rest, Lyra. Whatever demons you're fighting tonight—they'll still be there tomorrow. But you'll be better equipped to face them."
As he turned to leave, I caught his arm. "Felix?"
He looked back, a question in his eyes.
"Why did you really buy that triptych tonight? Three million dollars for a forgery..."
Felix was quiet for a moment. "Because sometimes the only way to expose a lie is to own it completely." He gently extracted his arm from my grip. "Goodnight, Lyra."
"Goodnight, Felix."
As I changed into his borrowed clothes and slipped between cool sheets in the guest room, my mind spun with the evening's events. Seeing Alexander and Vivienne. Felix's cryptic comments about justice. The way he'd looked at me when he found me at the bar—concerned, yes, but also... disappointed? Hurt?
