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.
âYou really want to take me home? Arenât you swamped with work at the office?â Giselle asked, her cheeks flush with shyness.
Balfour nodded, âWork can wait. Thereâs always time to send you home.â
âOkay,â 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. âNo matter, weâve got plenty of time ahead of us.â
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 Giselleâs 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.
âOf course! I just got a new painting, from an artist youâre fond of. Itâs hanging in my bedroom. Maybe you could come up and we could admire it together?â she said with an almost provocative directness.
âReally? I didnât know you collected art.â
âWell, I didnât. But I started because you like it,â she confessed.
In the elevator, Giselle couldnât resist leaning into Balfour, who firmly steadied her with his hand-so much so that it hurt. âOuch, Balfour! Ease up a bit, thatâs really painful!â
He loosened his grip slightly in a gesture of apology but didnât let go completely. He knew if he did, she would be right back in his arms.
Giselle wasnât thinking that far ahead. Her mind was focused on being alone with him in her room, where he surely wouldnât be so aloof.
Using the painting as a pretext, Giselle led Balfour into her bedroom. She wasnât lying. The painting was indeed there, right above her bed.
âIsnât it beautiful?â 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 hadnât had the chance to dispose of the object in question.
âWhat do you think?â she repeated, turning back to face him.
Suddenly, Balfour gripped her shoulders, âI didnât catch what you said before. Say it again.â
She repeated, her voice tinged with shyness, âsaid⦠we knew each other first. If it werenât for lvy, wouldnât we be the perfect couple right now?â
âYouâve got something on your cheek,â Balfour said, steering the conversation elsewhere and pointing at her face.
âWhat? Where?â She quickly covered her face, not wanting to appear less than perfect in front of Balfour.