Elara’s public life was a masterpiece of subtle brushstrokes. A respected professor of art history at a small, prestigious liberal arts college, she lived in a restored Victorian house with a husband, Martin, a kind, distracted architect who loved her in the gentle, proprietary way one love...
Read MoreThe gallery opening had been a success by all measures. Maya stood among the thinning crowd, champagne flute in hand, accepting congratulations from patrons who'd purchased her work. But her attention kept drifting to the woman across the room—Dr. Elena Vasquez, the museum's new cur...
Read MoreThe air in Maya’s apartment always smelled like sandalwood and rain-soaked earth, a scent that had become, for Elara, the very definition of comfort. But tonight, the comfort was laced with something else, something that crackled in the space between them on the sofa—a charge built fr...
Read More 