Page 17 of Beautiful Exile

No contact with people from your old life.

That one was easy. My parents were gone, now nothing more than names on tombstones on the other side of the country. I had no other relatives except for a cousin on my father’s side who’d declined to assume custody of me at the time. And I was a distant memory to the childhood friends I’d left behind.

Don’t tell anyone about your past.

That one got a little murky. The Colsons knew bits and pieces now, but I trusted them with my life. They’d proven themselves over and over again. But I hadn’t told a single other soul.

Don’t have your picture anywhere public.

I ran into issues with Denver on that one. He constantly wanted me to do interviews or create social media profiles where Ishowed my personality. Only by personality, he meant my face.

“Arden, I know attention isn’t your thing, but?—”

“No.” I tried to put as much finality into the word as possible.

Denver sighed. “This arts collective is your brainchild. You’re the one who wanted to create a place for all artists in the community to have a home. Space to create and share those creations with the world.”

I shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t wrong. Art had given me an outlet I desperately needed at the worst time in my life. I just wanted to make sure others had access to the same if they wanted it.

“I’ll come to the meeting. I’ll make sure you have paintings and sculptures to auction off to the highest bidder. I’ll even smile at every deep-pocketed douchebag who wants to tell me what he thinks my art means while staring at my cleavage. But no interviews.”

Denver’s lips twitched. “Who are you kidding? If some d-bag stares at your boobs, you’ll break his arm.”

I choked on a laugh. “I’d give him a warning first.”

“I need to check on the gallery’s insurance policy.”

I grinned at my friend, but it slipped slightly as worry niggled. “I’m sorry. It’s just—I can’t.”

A muscle fluttered in Denver’s cheek, but he nodded. “It’s okay. I can probably get Hannah to do one. Maybe Isaiah or Farah.”

The other artists in our little collective would likely jump at the chance. And they deserved it, too. They were all incredibly skilled with interesting perspectives and outlooks. “Thanks, Den.”

He pinned me with a stare. “I just want the world to know your art. You’re ridiculously talented. You deserve to be known more widely.”

“I’m good with my little corner of the universe,” I promised him.

And that wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth either. The truth was, I couldn’t afford the risk.

Because when someone put a hit on you when you were eleven and living in foster care, you didn’t take chances. Not when your life depended on it.

6

LINCOLN

I staredout one of the massive windows in the office Cope had let me commandeer as mine. I was pretty sure my staff back in Seattle thought I was losing my mind, but it wouldn’t be the first time. I’d purchased more than a couple of companies where they’d doubted my sanity. Just like how people thought I was headed into some premature midlife crisis when I bought the Seattle Sparks hockey team. But all of that had worked out just fine. This would, too.

A flicker of movement caught my attention—one of Arden’s horses grazing in a far field. I wouldn’t lie to myself and deny that I’d hoped for a flash of mahogany hair in the distance or an appearance of those gray-violet eyes on my doorstep. I’d gotten neither.

I hadn’t seen any hint of Arden since she’d all but slammed her studio door in my face days ago. And I didn’t blame her. But it also made apologizing difficult. The last thing I wanted to do was invade her space without her permission, and if I texted Cope and asked for her number, it would give far too much away.

“Linc?”

Shep’s now familiar deep voice pulled me out of my swirlingthoughts. I turned to face the contractor, a sheepish smile tugging at my lips. “Sorry, losing myself in possibilities.”

Shep chuckled, tapping a construction pencil against the desk. “I get it. Starting from scratch is always a little overwhelming.”

“But there’s something rewarding about it, too. Taking something that only exists in your mind and bringing it to fruition.”

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