Lila's POV
The gallery had grown even busier.
Guests wandered from painting to painting, murmuring their opinions while photographers quietly captured moments from the evening. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the white marble floors, making every artwork seem almost alive.
Lila wished she could disappear into one of the paintings.
"You've been standing here for five minutes," Elise whispered.
"I'm pretending to admire this sculpture."
"You've been looking at the same one upside down."
Lila blinked.
"...Oh."
Elise laughed softly.
"Relax."
"I'm trying."
"No, you're overthinking."
"I always overthink."
"I know."
Before Elise could say anything else, someone called her name from across the room.
"Elise!"
She turned.
"Oh, that's my cousin. I'll be right back."
Lila nodded.
"I'll stay here."
"Don't run away."
"I won't."
"You promised."
"I promised."
Elise disappeared into the crowd, leaving Lila alone.
She let out a slow breath.
Maybe being alone was easier.
No one expected anything from someone standing quietly in front of a painting.
She wandered into a quieter corner of the gallery.
One painting caught her attention immediately.
It wasn't the largest or the brightest.
It showed an old wooden boat drifting on a calm lake beneath an overcast sky.
There was something peaceful about it.
Something lonely, too.
"It's interesting."
The voice came from beside her.
Deep.
Calm.
Lila turned.
A tall man stood a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of a charcoal suit.
He wasn't looking at her.
He was studying the painting.
Most of the guests had dressed elegantly.
This man somehow made elegance look effortless.
"What is?" she asked quietly.
"The painting."
He nodded toward it.
"Everyone who walks past it says it's sad."
He paused.
"I don't think it is."
Lila looked back at the canvas.
"I don't either."
For the first time, he looked at her.
"What do you see?"
She studied the artwork for another moment.
"I think..."
"The boat isn't lost."
"It's resting."
His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.
"That's an unusual interpretation."
She shrugged.
"Maybe."
"I think people see loneliness because they're afraid of being alone."
She smiled faintly.
"But sometimes..."
"Being alone is peaceful."
The corner of his mouth twitched, almost becoming a smile.
"I was thinking the same thing."
Silence settled between them.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
They simply stood there, looking at the painting.
"I'm Lila."
The words left her mouth before she could second-guess herself.
He turned toward her.
"Damon."
She nodded politely.
"It's nice to meet you."
"And you."
Neither of them offered any more information.
No last names.
No occupations.
Just two strangers sharing the same piece of art.
"So..."
Damon asked after a moment.
"Are you an artist?"
Lila hesitated.
"A little."
"A little?"
"I draw."
"Sometimes."
He looked amused.
"I've found that people who say 'sometimes' usually do it quite well."
She laughed softly.
"I wouldn't go that far."
"And you?"
She glanced at him.
"Do you paint?"
"No."
"I appreciate people who do."
"Even when you don't understand their work?"
"Especially then."
She tilted her head.
"Why?"
"Because it reminds me there's more than one way to see the world."
His answer surprised her.
She had expected something polite.
Not something thoughtful.
Across the room, Gabriel spotted Damon.
"There he is."
Arthur followed his gaze.
"Who's he talking to?"
Gabriel frowned.
"I've never seen her before."
Arthur smiled knowingly.
"Leave them."
"They're only talking."
"Exactly."
Back by the painting, Lila folded her hands in front of her.
"I've never been to an exhibition like this."
"It shows."
She looked horrified.
"...That was rude."
He chuckled.
"I didn't mean it that way."
"You've spent the last ten minutes apologizing every time you speak."
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
"I do that a lot."
"I noticed."
She covered her face with one hand.
"This is embarrassing."
"It doesn't have to be."
She lowered her hand slowly.
"I get nervous around people."
"So do I."
She looked at him, unconvinced.
"You don't seem nervous."
"I've learned how to hide it."
Something about the honesty in his voice caught her off guard.
For a brief moment...
He didn't seem like the confident man
standing in an expensive suit.
He simply seemed...
Human.
A waiter passed by carrying a tray of drinks.
Lila reached for a glass of sparkling water.
At the exact same moment, Damon reached for the one beside it.
Her elbow accidentally brushed his arm.
"Oh!"
The water sloshed over the rim, splashing onto the sleeve of his jacket.
Lila's eyes widened.
"Oh my goodness!"
"I'm so sorry!"
She grabbed a napkin from the tray.
"I wasn't looking—"
"I should've been more careful—"
She kept apologizing as she gently dabbed the water from his sleeve.
"I've ruined your jacket."
Damon looked down at the tiny splash.
Then back at her.
"I think it'll survive."
She let out a nervous laugh.
"I can't believe I just did that."
"I can."
She blinked.
"...What does that mean?"
"It means accidents happen."
"For what it's worth..."
"I've spilled coffee on much more expensive things."
That finally earned a genuine smile from her.
A small one.
But real.
Before either of them could continue, Olivia approached Damon.
"Mr. Blackwood."
Lila froze.
Mr. Blackwood?
Olivia smiled politely.
"The chairman is ready for you."
"I'll be there in a moment."
She nodded and stepped away.
Lila stared at him.
"Damon..."
"Blackwood?"
He gave a small nod.
"I'm afraid so."
"You own..."
He smiled slightly.
"A few companies."
"A few?"
"I've lost count."
She laughed despite herself.
"I had no idea."
"I know."
"And I'd prefer if our conversation stayed exactly as it was."
She looked puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"You spoke to me like I was just another guest."
"I liked that."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Damon offered a small nod.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Hart."
Before she could reply, he turned and walked toward the private reception.
Lila watched him disappear into the crowd.
She wasn't dazzled by his wealth.
She was simply... intrigued.
Meanwhile, halfway across the room, Damon glanced back once.
She was still standing in front of the painting.
Looking at him with the same thoughtful expression she'd worn when she spoke about the lonely boat.
For reasons he couldn't explain...
He hoped this wouldn't be their last conversation.