Yield

Chapter 7

After finishing their daily schedule and attending various meetings, it was time to go home. That plan was scrapped when Rhodes offered to take Laurette to a private art gallery.

She agreed after pondering for a while.

Rhodes made his way to the passenger's seat, opening the car door for her and buckling her seat belt in.

He then entered the drivers seat, hands on the wheel and eyes on the road.

Laurette stared out of the window silently, legs crossed, fingers fiddling with her dress.

She wasn't nervous, she was wondering the way Rhodes hasn't asked her a question yet felt present.

Neither of them spoke. The silence in the car was comfortable.

When they arrived. Rhodes stepped out of the car, making his way to the other side, and opened the car door.

Taking Laurette hand, he helped her out. "Steady."

Laurette made her way inside the gallery room.

The steady echo of her heels made her presence known, followed by Rhodes's tall figure behind her every step she took.

The room was dimly lit. There were different types of vintage paintings perfectly hung on the wall.

He watched her with a certain look in his eyes. He never took his eyes off her to look at the paintings on the wall.

Meanwhile, Laurette scanned through every single painting she walked past.

She felt his gaze on her but she wasn't bothered. It was normal for her.

Then she stopped in front of one.

It was a piece with a faceless man and his daughter with fractured glass around her.

Rhodes noticed her pause. He said, "You like the piece? It's a brutal one."

She answered in a quiet tone. "It's familiar."

"You don't have to explain."

Stepping back from the piece, she responded, " I wasn't going to."

After the pause in front of the painting, they decided to go to the rooftop.

The city view was spread out in front of them. The soft breeze lifted strands of her hair.

Rhodes stood beside her, letting his arm gently press against hers— skin to skin. They both watched the view of the city.

"My mum used to bring me here often. She said silence made the art louder."

"My dad says silence is weakness."

Rhodes glanced at her. "Then he's afraid of what silence reveals."

She turned around and spoke genuinely. "I don't know how to be soft."

He took her hand, gently caressing her knuckles.

"I know, you've had to be sharp for so long that being soft feels like exposure."

He tilted her face up so she could look at him.

"But I see you. Not the performance. Not the posture. Just you. And I don't want you to be anything else."

Laurette held his gaze — something flickered in her eyes.

"You're the first person that ever looked this close and not wanted to close the door. "

She stepped forward, close enough for him to feel her breath.

"Don't waste it."

He didn't speak. His expression softened like he had just been handed something fragile.

Then she reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. She led him down the stairs.

He didn't ask where she was taking him. He didn't care as long as it was her.

For the first time, Laurette wasn't thinking about her next move— only the next moment.

She already decided how the night would end.