She looked like a dream. So much so, the first few seconds, I didn’t even decipher what she was saying. Just bathed in the fact I’d had her underneath me, not too long ago, writhing and begging for more.
She wore an off-shoulder dress with a fitted bodice and butterflies on it. I dropped the weights I was holding and strode to the TV so I could hear her better. The hostess, a woman whose age could be anywhere from thirty-eight to fifty-nine with a blonde bob and a lot of fake tanner, asked her about the PR crisis a certain British royal couple was facing. Arya answered all the questions thoroughly and professionally. I wondered what had inspired her to go on TV in the first place, but then when her interview was over, the hostess plugged Brand Brigade and couldn’t stop gushing about it, proclaiming that she was one of their very happy clients.
Free publicity. Mystery solved.
That same day, I went to Barnes & Noble and bought a copy of Atonement. They only had the one with the film poster on the cover, white paper instead of crème. But that was sufficient for what I needed. I tore a page from the book, dabbed it in tea, and let it sit to dry on my office window for a few hours before tucking it into an envelope along with a small note.
I have something of yours. If you want to see this book alive, follow my steps and don’t try to go to the police.
Step 1: Meet me at the Hayden Planetarium tonight at six thirty.
Don’t be late.
—C
I picked up the phone on my desk, pressing the button to call my secretary.
“I need you to send something across town. Now.”
At six twenty, I spotted Arya outside the planetarium. She stopped pacing, showered in a pool of icy blue lights reflecting from the building behind her.
In the movies, and maybe even in the books Arya was so fond of, the heroine always looked uncertain and demure, waiting for her beau to arrive. Not so with Arya Roth. The little hellion was on the phone, pacing back and forth, telling whoever was on the other end that she’d make a Birkin bag out of his skin if he didn’t find her the reporter who’d leaked that juicy item about one of her clients. I stood on the sidelines, taking her in, and it finally dawned on me why I couldn’t stay away—because we were frighteningly alike.
Fighters. Bloodthirsty. We’d been born into different circumstances, but our essence was the same. We were both in the business of getting down and dirty for the things we cared about. Claws out, at a second’s notice.
Question was—how much did Arya still care about her father? I had no way of finding out and wasn’t naive enough to ask her directly.
I resumed my brisk walk toward her. She turned on her heel, then stopped when she saw me, her pupils dilating at my appearance.
“I have to go, Neil. Keep me posted.”
She tossed her phone back into her bag, launching toward me.
“Where’s my book, Miller?” she barked, in full ballbuster mode.
I stopped a good few feet in front of her, enjoying her gaze on me. “That’s it? No hello, how have you been?”
“I don’t care how you’ve been. All I care about is that you stole my book.”
“And I’ll give it back to you,” I replied evenly. “If you play your cards right.”
“With a page missing.” She pulled the page I’d sent her earlier today from her purse, waving it in my face. Trying hard not to laugh, I produced something from my own briefcase. The new copy of Atonement I’d purchased, which was missing the page.
“The original is safe and sound.”
Arya put a hand to her chest, sagging visibly. “Good. I thought I needed to murder you. Life in prison seemed highly unappealing and yet completely necessary for the past few hours. Although I’d like to stress you are still a horrendous person for ripping any book, for any reason.”
“Even if that reason was to get a reaction out of you?”
“Especially so.”
“I missed you, Ms. Roth.”
“Oh, put a lid on it, Miller.”
We walked into the planetarium. She didn’t ask why I’d had her meet me here. She didn’t have to. It was clear from the moment we strode into the Nature of Color exhibition.
“You know, animals are known to use color to camouflage themselves,” I noted. We walked past a stark white wall, our shadows reflecting off it in all the colors of the rainbow. Around us, kids danced to their own shadows, while their parents watched a flat-screen explaining the exhibition.
“They use it to attract mates too.” Arya clutched the jacket she was holding to her chest. “Your point?”