His Silent Possession

Her

Selene was halfway to her car when her phone buzzed in her purse.

She sighed and pulled it out, expecting another media alert or an update from her team. Instead, it was a text from Daniel.

If you’re free, come by the studio. I want to show you something.

A second text followed immediately after: Don’t use the front entrance. There are some reporters parked across the street. Pull into the alley off 4th, park behind the loading truck in front of the black bungalow, and knock on the door twice.

Selene stood by her car for a second, looking at the screen. She knew she should go straight home. She knew Cassian was expecting her, and running around after hours wasn't exactly smart.

She got into her car, started the engine, and put the address into the GPS anyway.

Ten minutes later, she pulled into the narrow, dimly lit alley behind his building. She turned off the headlights, parked behind the truck, and stepped out. Walking up to the door, she knocked twice.

The lock clicked, and the door swung open almost immediately.

Daniel stood there in a dark t-shirt and faded jeans, charcoal smudged along his jaw. He looked at her clothes, then her heels, and smiled at her.

"You made it," he stepped back to let her in. "No cameras?"

"None," Selene walked past him into the hallway. "You sound like you've done this before."

"Oh yeah… but only when I'm trying to avoid people," he locked the door behind her. "Follow me."

He led her up the stairs and through a wooden door that opened right into his studio.

The room was huge, with bright lights that flashed on hundreds of canvases. It smelled like paint and fresh coffee, and jazz played softly from a music box in the corner.

Selene stopped near the door, taking it all in. "It looks amazing in here."

"That's the point." Daniel walked over to a counter, poured a glass of water, and handed it to her. "You look exhausted."

"I am," she admitted, taking the glass from him. "So... what did you want to show me? I was told the exhibition list was complete."

"It is." He gestured toward a large canvas leaning against the far wall, covered by a white cloth. "I just wanted an opinion on one last piece before it gets packed up."

Selene walked over, setting her glass on a stool. "Is this the centerpiece?"

"Maybe." He stood beside her, reached out, and pulled the cloth back.

Selene stopped talking.

At first glance, the painting looked like a mess of dark oil paint and rough charcoal strokes with shadows.

She took a step closer, and stood there, then the dark lines started to make sense. Tucked right into the middle of the shadows was the silhouette of a woman. She was sitting with her shoulders hunched, head turned slightly away, almost hidden in the dark background.

Standing right in front of it, looking at the line of the jaw and the posture, there was no mistaking it.

It was her.

Selene stared at the canvas, her voice dropping. "Daniel..."

"It takes a minute to see it," he watched her face closely. "Most people won't."

"It's me."

"It's how you sit when you think no one is watching," he countered softly. “…When you're so immersed in work, shutting out the outside world.

Selene stared at the painting. She had spent five years being photographed at galas, dinners, and charity events, smiling for cameras that only captured the perfect wife of Cassian Vale. But those photos were empty. They didn't show who she actually was when the cameras weren’t present.

This canvas did.

"When did you paint this?"

"After our first meeting," Daniel leaned back against a nearby table. "You spent hours going over the contract, acting completely calm, but I noticed your fingers digging into your notebook the whole time."

Selene turned to look at him. "You can't put this in the gallery, Daniel. If people look closely—"

"They won't. It's abstract. People see whatever they want to see anyway." He stepped beside her, looking at the canvas. "Besides, I didn't paint it for the buyers."

Selene didn't know what to say to that. She just stood there, staring at the canvas, completely caught off guard.

Daniel walked over to a worn leather sofa in the corner and sat down, leaning his forearms on his knees with a faint grin. "Come Selene, have a seat.”

Selene hesitated before taking off her coat, tossing it over a chair, and walking over to the couch. She sat down on the other side, leaving some space between them.

"Five minutes Daniel," she said.

"Five minutes," Daniel agreed, leaning back against the cushions. "We won’t talk about work, gala or any of that.”

Selene leaned her head back against the cushion and let out a long breath. The silence in the studio and the music playing in the background made her feel relaxed.

When she opened her eyes, Daniel was looking over at her with a small smile.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he murmured, his gaze holding hers. "It's just nice seeing you look relaxed for once."

"I am relaxed."

"You're trying to be," he corrected, his voice dropping. "That's a start."

Selene didn't answer, but a faint smile slipped onto her face. Sitting there in the dim light, and staring at different paintings in the room, she felt entirely at ease.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table between them.

The screen lit up with Cassian's name.

When she didn’t move to pick it up, the phone buzzed a second time, the vibration cutting right through the music in the room.

Daniel looked from the screen back up to her face, his smile fading slowly. "Are you going to answer that?"

Selene stared at her husband's name flashing on the glass. She reached out, flipped the phone face down onto the table, and looked back at Daniel.

"No," she whispered.