Balfour gave a noncommittal grunt, not adding any more to the conversation.
Giselle was thoroughly content by the end of the meal. As she braced herself for the inevitable parting
from Balfour, to her astonishment, he offered to drive her home. She felt flattered and pleasantly
surprised.
“You really want to take me home? Aren’t you swamped with work at the office?” Giselle asked, her
cheeks flush with shyness.
Balfour nodded, “Work can wait. There’s always time to send you home.”
“Okay,” she replied, coyly looking down and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear in a flirtatious
gesture.
But Balfour just turned away to get the car without giving her a second glance..
His apparent lack of romantic savvy left Giselle a bit deflated, but she quickly perked up again. “No
matter, we’ve got plenty of time ahead of us.”
Since he was taking her home, it was the perfect opportunity for something to happen-perhaps to seal
the deal, so to speak. When they arrived at Giselle’s doorstep, before she could even speak, Balfour
was the one to suggest coming up for a bit.
Giselle was over the moon. Everything was falling into place seamlessly.
With Ivy out of the picture, it seemed her life was on a smooth track.
“Of course! I just got a new painting, from an artist you’re fond of. It’s hanging in my bedroom. Maybe
you could come up and we could admire it together?” she said with an almost provocative directness.
“Really? I didn’t know you collected art.”
“Well, I didn’t. But I started because you like it,” she confessed.
In the elevator, Giselle couldn’t resist leaning into Balfour, who firmly steadied her with his hand-so
much so that it hurt. “Ouch, Balfour! Ease up a bit, that’s really painful!”
He loosened his grip slightly in a gesture of apology but didn’t let go completely. He knew if he did, she
would be right back in his
arms.
Giselle wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Her mind was focused on being alone with him in her room,
where he surely wouldn’t be so aloof.
Using the painting as a pretext, Giselle led Balfour into her bedroom. She wasn’t lying. The painting
was indeed there, right above her bed.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she asked.
Balfour humored her with small talk but, under the guise of not paying attention, he began a meticulous
search of the room.
The most dangerous place is often the safest. If he were Giselle, he too would hide something
important in his bedroom.
The critical point was that since the incident, Giselle likely hadn’t had the chance to dispose of the
object in question.
“What do you think?” she repeated, turning back to face him.
Suddenly, Balfour gripped her shoulders, “I didn’t catch what you said before. Say it again.”
She repeated, her voice tinged with shyness, “said… we knew each other first. If it weren’t for lvy,
wouldn’t we be the perfect couple right now?”
“You’ve got something on your cheek,” Balfour said, steering the conversation elsewhere and pointing
at her face.
“What? Where?” She quickly covered her face, not wanting to appear less than perfect in front of
Balfour.
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