paintings and elegant sculptures, Petra soon lost her bearings and totally forgot the reason for her visit. Like a butterfly collecting nectar, she fluttered from one work to another, lovingly studying them—she could always find new details in well-viewed works of art—dreaming of one day being able to create something as exquisite. Around in circles she went, breathing in art and exhaling pure joy. In her endless roving, she came to stand by the staircase. It stood there, spiraling into the second floor—a tempting invitation, beckoning her, teasing her.
Petra took a quick glance around her, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw Alina at the top of the stairs. She looked again; no one was near and no guards were up there either. Her mind was playing tricks on her now. Shaking her head a little, Petra looked up the staircase again. This could be a very easy, very quick inquiry—in and out, nobody would notice. Not allowing herself time to rethink it, Petra took to the stairs, and skipping steps, climbed all the way up before anyone could see her. The second floor was surprisingly empty, even though it was the middle of the work week. Jonas must have taken a few of his staff on this “retreat” of his, or maybe they were just all at lunch since the boss was away. Whatever the reason, she found herself all alone on the second floor, an opportunity she just couldn’t pass up.
The door to Jonas’ office was ajar, so she squeezed herself through the gap. No soul haunted that space, much to her delight. Being very familiar with the layout, Petra didn’t waste any time. She went straight to the safe, a massive thing hidden inside the closet. Once inside, Petra felt herself drift away into daydreaming, thinking of the night when she had been hidden in that closet with Sam. The feeling of his hands on her back when they danced that night was still as vivid as if they were still entangled in the waltz. She shook a pleasant frisson down her neck and tried to focus on the job at hand. With nimble fingers, she pressed the numbers on the lock pad, and pretty much as she had expected, the door clicked open for her. Inside there was all the documentation Jonas had on the works of art now housed in the galleria and also the ones he had in his own home. Petra skimmed through all of them as quickly as she could and found no fault. As she had thought, those papers were all legal and the works authenticated properly. There was no wrongdoing here. Jonas Linden was the biggest two-timing idiot in the world, at least in her opinion, but he was committing no art crimes. In spite of herself, she was relieved. It was hard enough to have been married to an adulterer, but she did not want to add the title of felon to his résumé.
Closing the safe, Petra left the closet and the office in the direction of the stairs. Luckily, there was still no one around and she started down the steps. About halfway down, her left heel slipped off the edge of the step, and without any warning, sent her tumbling down the staircase in a clumsy mass of legs, arms, and clothes. By the time she landed noisily on the ground floor, several visitors were running to her rescue. As darkness descended upon her, she heard voices yell, “Call 9-1-1” and “Oh my God, she’s bleeding.” She felt herself fade away, as if life itself was leaving her body through her pores. It was not an altogether unpleasant feeling. There was a measure of satisfaction in the feeling of losing control of her senses, a certain sense of peace as her muscles weakened and relaxed into unconsciousness.
***
Sam
Sam had been calling her cell phone to no avail. Was she avoiding him? He knew they had bonded somehow, that they had connected in ways he had never experienced with anyone before, and he knew the feeling was mutual. So why wasn’t she answering the phone? Not ready to give up yet, he dialed the number again, crossing his fingers out of habit. A voice answered
Petra took a quick glance around her, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw Alina at the top of the stairs. She looked again; no one was near and no guards were up there either. Her mind was playing tricks on her now. Shaking her head a little, Petra looked up the staircase again. This could be a very easy, very quick inquiry—in and out, nobody would notice. Not allowing herself time to rethink it, Petra took to the stairs, and skipping steps, climbed all the way up before anyone could see her. The second floor was surprisingly empty, even though it was the middle of the work week. Jonas must have taken a few of his staff on this “retreat” of his, or maybe they were just all at lunch since the boss was away. Whatever the reason, she found herself all alone on the second floor, an opportunity she just couldn’t pass up.
The door to Jonas’ office was ajar, so she squeezed herself through the gap. No soul haunted that space, much to her delight. Being very familiar with the layout, Petra didn’t waste any time. She went straight to the safe, a massive thing hidden inside the closet. Once inside, Petra felt herself drift away into daydreaming, thinking of the night when she had been hidden in that closet with Sam. The feeling of his hands on her back when they danced that night was still as vivid as if they were still entangled in the waltz. She shook a pleasant frisson down her neck and tried to focus on the job at hand. With nimble fingers, she pressed the numbers on the lock pad, and pretty much as she had expected, the door clicked open for her. Inside there was all the documentation Jonas had on the works of art now housed in the galleria and also the ones he had in his own home. Petra skimmed through all of them as quickly as she could and found no fault. As she had thought, those papers were all legal and the works authenticated properly. There was no wrongdoing here. Jonas Linden was the biggest two-timing idiot in the world, at least in her opinion, but he was committing no art crimes. In spite of herself, she was relieved. It was hard enough to have been married to an adulterer, but she did not want to add the title of felon to his résumé.
Closing the safe, Petra left the closet and the office in the direction of the stairs. Luckily, there was still no one around and she started down the steps. About halfway down, her left heel slipped off the edge of the step, and without any warning, sent her tumbling down the staircase in a clumsy mass of legs, arms, and clothes. By the time she landed noisily on the ground floor, several visitors were running to her rescue. As darkness descended upon her, she heard voices yell, “Call 9-1-1” and “Oh my God, she’s bleeding.” She felt herself fade away, as if life itself was leaving her body through her pores. It was not an altogether unpleasant feeling. There was a measure of satisfaction in the feeling of losing control of her senses, a certain sense of peace as her muscles weakened and relaxed into unconsciousness.
***
Sam
Sam had been calling her cell phone to no avail. Was she avoiding him? He knew they had bonded somehow, that they had connected in ways he had never experienced with anyone before, and he knew the feeling was mutual. So why wasn’t she answering the phone? Not ready to give up yet, he dialed the number again, crossing his fingers out of habit. A voice answered
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