In Paris, the rain had turned to snow, dusting the gargoyles of Montmartre in a pristine, quiet white.

Inside Galerie Durant, Julian was practically vibrating with excitement.

He had locked the front door and closed the velvet curtains, turning to Elena with a thi

Firelight fractured inside the crystal tumbler in Alistair Vance’s hand, casting amber patterns across the walls of the Ritz suite.

Beyond the tall windows, Paris glittered beneath a cold evening sky. The city appeared peaceful from this height, its streets reduced to eleg

The studio Alistair provided occupied a converted nineteenth-century iron foundry near Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

From the street, the building appeared abandoned. Weathered stone walls surrounded a private courtyard, and the old iron gates showed no gallery na