The tension in the studio was thick enough to paint. Julian didn't look up from his palette, but his focus was entire on the girl standing before him. Elara Moon. Or whatever her name truly was.
A week had passed since the incident in the dressing room, and a domestic peace had settled between them. Elara played her violin, her eyes closed, lost in the music that Julian needed to breathe. He painted, chasing the colors she brought into his grey world.
But the silence was broken by the incessant buzzing of Julian's phone. It was Marcus, his agent.
"Julian, someone is asking questions," Marcus whispered over the line, his voice tight with panic. "A private investigator was at the gallery today. He had a photo of a girl. Dark curls, hazel eyes, a violin case."
Julian's blood went cold. He looked through the glass door at Elara. She was lost in her melody, a radiant contrast to the brooding shadows he was painting.
"What did you tell him?" Julian asked, his voice dropping to a low growl.
"I told him I only deal with canvases, not runaways, but Julian, if you're hiding someone, you're playing with fire. Whoever is looking for her has a lot of money and very little patience."
Julian hung up and walked into the studio. He didn't say a word. He just walked up to Elara and took the violin from her hands, setting it carefully on the stand.
"Vance? What is it?" she asked, her voice tight with panic.
"We're going out," Julian said. "You need a new look. If someone is looking for a girl in a yellow cardigan, we're going to give them a high-fashion enigma instead."
He took her to the most exclusive boutique in the city, ignoring her protests. He picked out silks, leathers, and deep emerald velvets.
"I don't belong in these clothes," Elara hissed from the dressing room, wearing a dark green silk slip dress that made her eyes glow like moss.
"You belong wherever you decide to stand," Julian replied, leaning against the doorframe, watching her. "Stop trying to be invisible, Elara. You were born to be a masterpiece."
But as they left the boutique, Julian noticed a black sedan parked across the street. The windows were tinted. It didn't move. The hunt had begun.
Julian knew he was no longer just chasing the muse; he was protecting her from a shadow that was closing in fast. He needed to identify Reyes' employer, and he knew only one person who could help him navigate the dark side of the art world.