Hearts at Crossroads

Chapter 2

Emma’s clipboard clattered to the ground as she dived to catch the toppling artwork. Horrified, she looked up, questions on her face.

The slender woman did not flinch an inch in apology for her abrupt entrance.

Her heavily permed hair was slung stylishly like an accessory over bare, polished shoulders, her dangling earrings singing in unison as they jingled melodiously over an elegantly set neckline which was heavily adorned.

Her gown drew a winding path behind her when she walked, leaving an iota of her presence wherever she went, along with an extreme lavender fragrance.

Her fancy Louis Vuitton handbag swung heavily like a pendulum around her arms, the brand initials on it almost as huge as the bag itself.

“Julian, darling, Always the philanthropist, she said, flinging her shiny hair over her shoulders, completely ignoring Emma.

“And who might this be”, she continued after a brief pause and a series of condescending twirls of her head.

Julian, did nothing in immediate response.

In an admirable and familiar pose of charm and composure, one hand in his pocket and the other calmly twirling a button on his jacket, he summoned a waiter with a nod of his head. He raised his glass to his lips slowly.

It was like the world had stopped for him.

“Sophia, this is Emma Carter,” he said finally, turning to the woman, his voice polite, but deep and firm. “Emma, this Sophia Wells. We were just discussing art.”

“How charming,” Sophia said her voice dripping with subtle sarcasm. “I’m sure your art is… very meaningful.”

Emma’s feet tingled and buckled below her. The evening had already been unfair to her. Her perspiring palms shook in nervousness.

“We---Welcome to the exhibition, ma’am,” She stammered, digging her fingernails into her clipbook for comfort. “It’s great to---”

“Julian, a word please,” Sophia interjected, leaning into Julian.

She whispered in his ear and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Emma could almost notice a hardness freeze in Julian’s eyeballs. But he took another sip from his glass and turned to her, nodding in encouragement.

Sophia pranced away, her glass heels creating an illusion of flight. Her dress extensions streamed behind her, drawing their own footsteps.

The tension past, Julian turned back to Emma, the firmness in his eyes and his face disappearing for a moment.

“You could reach me, anytime…” he trailed off, handing Emma a sleek white card from his pocket.

“I look forward to hearing from you… Miss Carter”

And so, just like he came, he walked off, like the world was even privileged to behold him, his majesty and charm walking off with him; one arm pocketed, another swinging a path clear for him in the air.

The clock struck midnight as Emma fumbled with the last box of art supplies, her shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. Her head throbbed mercilessly, muddling her thoughts. She hardly knew what to even think.

It had been a brutal conclusion to the evening—she had only sold four of her works. The gala had been a whirlwind of flashing cameras, tight smiles and superficial pleasantries.

Packing up her art felt like a bitter end to a day that promised so much but delivered little.

Sighing, she closed the last box and wiped a smudge of paint from her cheek, her fingers trembling slightly. She took a deep breath and headed out for rusty old twentè, her reliable sixteen-year-old Volkswagen.

The trunk creaked agonizingly as she opened it, the cacophony further irritating her.

The drive home was a blur, the city lights streaking past in a cascade of tired reflections. The city was asleep, the low rumbles of vehicles traveling the midnight its occasional snoring.

Emma tried to shake off the frustration but it clung to her like the rain that started to drizzle halfway through her drive.

Crystal beads rattled off the windshield as she pulled up to the curb home. The apartment was quiet, her jangling keys renting melodies of their own into the eerie night. Stumbling, she carried the rest of her supplies up the stairs.

She lunged in at the front door, the warmth from within curling an arm over her shoulders in comfort.

Bent over a guitar in the center of the living room was her roommate, Lily.

Lily Thompson.

The life of the party.

Without even snapping her fingers, Lily would be the magic behind a vibrant room in seconds. Her bright eyes lay behind heavy set glasses, as if in search of a gloomy atmosphere to illuminate.

She glanced up as Emma entered, her expression shifting from casual interest to concern.

“Hey, you’re back late,” she said putting down her guitar. “What’s up? How did everything go?”

Emma trudged over to the couch and dropped onto it; her fatigue evident. She started to take off her shoes, her movements slow and deliberate.”

“It--- It was a long day, she responded wearily, sighing and wheezing between words. “The gala was a lot more chaotic than I expected. I’m just… really tired”

Lily sat next to Emma, her concern growing, a slight scowl on her face.

“That doesn’t sound good, baby. What exactly happened? This was a big opportunity for you.”

Emma sighed again, running a palm across her forehead, clearing matted hair.

“Yeah, it was. I thought it’d be my big break.”

“Tell me how it went, baby” Lily probed, leaning into her.

“I met this guy, Julian Blackwood—” Emma started.

“Julian Blackwood?” Lily interrupted, looking up thoughtfully. “That name sounds familiar”

“He seemed genuinely interested and even talked about the possibility of a collaboration,” Emma continued, ignoring Lily’s interjection. “But now I’m not sure if he was just being polite or if he really meant it.”

Lily perked up with a sudden mischievous interest, a large grin on her face.

“Emma…” she trailed off, a smirk spreading across her face. “How hot was he...?”

Emma smiled faintly and shrugged her friend off her shoulder good naturedly.

“That’s not what’s important, Lil. Get off me, I’ve got body pains”

“But, seriously…”, Lily said throwing her feet up the couch and resting her chin in her hands.

Emma stood up heavily, hanging her coat and headed for the bedroom, dragging her feet.

“I’ll get you coffee!” Lily called after her.

She stripped herself of her wet clothes, flinging them into the washing machine at her bathroom door and threw herself in bed, the bedclothes greeting her in a cozy embrace.

Closing her eyes, she let herself go to the enticing whispers of her pillow’s efforts to soothe her.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Julian Blackwood stirred under his silk sheets, the luxurious fabric whispering against his skin. He awoke to the gentle chime of his smart home system, the room illuminated by the soft, golden light of dawn filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. The luxurious bedroom with its high-tech amenities and plush furnishings contrasted with the vibrant cityscape outside. The voice of his AI assistant, Alexa, seamlessly integrated into the room’s sophisticated technology greeted him.

“Good morning, Mr. Blackwood. It’s 6:45AM. Time to wake up. Today you have planned to visit Mr. Wells for his birthday, along with a few other tasks.”

Julian stretched, the movement barely rustling the crisp, white Egyptian cotton of his bed. He rose gracefully, his feet landing on the cool, marble floor. He slipped into a tailored jogging suit and approached the glass enclosed gym where a state-of-the-art treadmill awaited.

“What else do I have to expect today?” he asked Alexa as he prepared for his jog.

“Mr. Blackwood,” Alexa responded with calm efficiency, “You are expecting a call from Emma Carter, the artist you met at last night’s gala.”

Julian’s eyes flickered with interest. He grabbed his sleek, silver phone from the nightstand and swiftly began searching for Emma Carter. Frustration surfaced as the search yielded no results on her artwork, but LinkedIn proved more fruitful. He found her profile, noting her contact information.

“Schedule a call with Emma Carter for later today,” He instructed Alexa. Alexa confirmed with a soft beep.

Ruffling his hair, Julian zipped his jogging suit.

“Put my workout playlist on, Alexa,” he directed once more.

Humming to his favorite songs, Julian rang the discreet silver bell on his bedside table and headed for his gym.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

The grandeur of Charles Wells’ birthday party was unrivaled. Held at The Metropolitan club, the event exuded an air of opulence. Celebrities of all sorts graced the gathering, elegantly adored, the paparazzi spilling its way into social media. The atmosphere was a blend of orchestral music and murmured conversations, sophistication and warmness thickening the air.

Julian, impeccably dressed in a glittering tailored suit, navigated the room with his characteristic poise.

His fingers delicately curled around his glass, he moved majestically around in conversation, his words few.

Cameras exploded around him, their flashes audience to the brilliance of his outfit.

He glanced at his wristwatch and sighed, handing his glass to a nearby waiter, seemingly unmoved by the media attention.

“Hello, Julian,” Sophia suddenly whispered in his ear, forcing an agitated turn of his head. “Welcome. I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“I promised your father, Sophia,” he replied firmly, politely shrugging Sophia’s fingers off his shoulder. “Of course, I made it.”

“So…” she purred, ignoring Julian’s show of discomfort. “You’re into art now? You were at the gala.”

“It’s business, Sophia,” Julian replied, his voice a bare grunt.

Sophia’s gaze was unwavering, and her attempt to engage in small talk was clear.

“I hear, you’re doing great things with the company by the way. What’s the latest project.”

Julian shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the personal nature of the conversation.

“Sophia…” he said hesitant “We’re working on some innovative AI tech. It’s keeping me busy.”

Suddenly, a loud crash rented the entirety of the buzzing room, sending echoes above the heads of surprised guests. A large display of ornate glasses toppled over, spilling champagne and inspiring commotional response.

Sophia’s eyes widened, alarmed, but Julian remained calmly still, his eyes darting across every corner of the room.

It all happened pretty fast.

From the corner of his eye, Julian saw a masked figure slip unobtrusively through the mangled mess of confusion. He glided through the cleanup and distractions, like a ghost, his eyes a hardened combination. For a split second, Julian’s eyes locked unto the man’s. His eyes had no feeling, a deathly chasm of grayness.

From the shadows, he pulled something from under his jacket. He raised his arm, revealing a weapon. There was a blast and a flash and everything went silent.