That same day, I went to Barnes & Noble and bought a copy of Atonement. They only had the one with the film poster on the cover, white paper instead of crème. But that was sufficient for what I needed. I tore a page from the book, dabbed it in tea, and let it sit to dry on my office window for a few hours before tucking it into an envelope along with a small note.
I have something of yours. If you want to see this book alive, follow my steps and don’t try to go to the police.
Step 1: Meet me at the Hayden Planetarium tonight at six thirty.
Don’t be late.
—C
I picked up the phone on my desk, pressing the button to call my secretary.
“I need you to send something across town. Now.”
At six twenty, I spotted Arya outside the planetarium. She stopped pacing, showered in a pool of icy blue lights reflecting from the building behind her.
In the movies, and maybe even in the books Arya was so fond of, the heroine always looked uncertain and demure, waiting for her beau to arrive. Not so with Arya Roth. The little hellion was on the phone, pacing back and forth, telling whoever was on the other end that she’d make a Birkin bag out of his skin if he didn’t find her the reporter who’d leaked that juicy item about one of her clients. I stood on the sidelines, taking her in, and it finally dawned on me why I couldn’t stay away—because we were frighteningly alike.
Fighters. Bloodthirsty. We’d been born into different circumstances, but our essence was the same. We were both in the business of getting down and dirty for the things we cared about. Claws out, at a second’s notice.
Question was—how much did Arya still care about her father? I had no way of finding out and wasn’t naive enough to ask her directly.
I resumed my brisk walk toward her. She turned on her heel, then stopped when she saw me, her pupils dilating at my appearance.
“I have to go, Neil. Keep me posted.”
She tossed her phone back into her bag, launching toward me.
“Where’s my book, Miller?” she barked, in full ballbuster mode.
I stopped a good few feet in front of her, enjoying her gaze on me. “That’s it? No hello, how have you been?”
“I don’t care how you’ve been. All I care about is that you stole my book.”
“And I’ll give it back to you,” I replied evenly. “If you play your cards right.”
“With a page missing.” She pulled the page I’d sent her earlier today from her purse, waving it in my face. Trying hard not to laugh, I produced something from my own briefcase. The new copy of Atonement I’d purchased, which was missing the page.
“The original is safe and sound.”
Arya put a hand to her chest, sagging visibly. “Good. I thought I needed to murder you. Life in prison seemed highly unappealing and yet completely necessary for the past few hours. Although I’d like to stress you are still a horrendous person for ripping any book, for any reason.”
“Even if that reason was to get a reaction out of you?”
“Especially so.”
“I missed you, Ms. Roth.”
“Oh, put a lid on it, Miller.”
We walked into the planetarium. She didn’t ask why I’d had her meet me here. She didn’t have to. It was clear from the moment we strode into the Nature of Color exhibition.
“You know, animals are known to use color to camouflage themselves,” I noted. We walked past a stark white wall, our shadows reflecting off it in all the colors of the rainbow. Around us, kids danced to their own shadows, while their parents watched a flat-screen explaining the exhibition.
“They use it to attract mates too.” Arya clutched the jacket she was holding to her chest. “Your point?”
We stopped in front of a video of a bright white flower opening up at nighttime, staring at it. “Things aren’t always as they seem.”
“Why do I have a feeling there’s something you want to say to me, yet you never really say it?” She turned to cock her head.
Because there is.
Because I am.
Because if I’m the one who got away, how come you cannot even recognize me when I stand less than a foot away from you?
But I just smiled, handing her the second note. I’d written them in advance, which, it had to be said, was out of character for me. My main form of seduction thus far, in the rare times I went to any minimal lengths to pursue someone, was to buy them dinner. She smoothed it over in her palm, shooting me a frown.
Step 2: Introduce me to your favorite street food.
Her eyes met mine, full of sudden benevolence I doubted she was truly capable of. The princess with the Chanel purse and $500 haircut, who’d never known hunger and desperation in her life.
“Whatever happened to you and me not being able to date one another? This feels just a few kisses shy of spooning slash coadopting a French bulldog called Argus.”
“First of all, I would never adopt a dog. Quote me on that. If I wanted someone to ruin my apartment, I’d get your interior designer. No offense.”
“None taken. I could give a crap and a half about what you think about my apartment.”
Actually, it was more like half a crap, but obviously, I didn’t want to offend.
“Second, I am, above all, a gentleman. Third, the only thing remotely romantic about tonight is the fact we’re both going to get laid at the end of it.”
Arya shook her head, but at least she had the integrity not to contradict me. We both knew where this was headed. How tangled we were in this web of desire.
And then we were on the stairs of the New York Public Library, eating waffles filled with chocolate fudge, Nutella, and cookie spread.
We probably looked perfect. The image of a textbook urban date. Two dashing thirtysomethings sharing dessert at the feet of one of the finest establishments in America. A sugarcoated lie.
“How did you not die of a heart attack by now?” I asked after three bites. I hadn’t consumed anything remotely as artery clogging since I’d hit thirty and realized that in order to keep my current shape, I had to start watching what I ate.
Arya tapped her plastic fork over her lower lip, pretending to consider this. “Wishful thinking, Mr. Miller?”
“We can stop pretending we hate each other. All evidence points to the contrary.”
“Never really bought into the whole diet fads. When I want to eat something—I do.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’m reckless.”
I snorted a chuckle. “A reckless woman would’ve called me a minute after she found out her book was missing. When did you realize, by the way?”
“About half a second after I opened my eyes.” She licked her lips. “Give or take.”
“Why Atonement?” I asked again. “Out of all the books in the world, you chose this. Why not Austen? Or Hemingway? Woolf, or Fitzgerald, or even Steinbeck?”
“Guilt.” She pressed her lips together, squinting at the darkness in front of her. “Atonement is about guilt. A small act of thoughtlessness made by a child, and how it threw so many lives off the rails. I guess . . . I mean, I suppose . . .” She frowned again, two sharp lines forming between her eyebrows. “I don’t know. I guess the more I grew up, the more that book grew with me. Each time I read it, I’d find another layer I could relate to.”
“Does this have something to do with the one who got away?” I asked tentatively. I was treading too close to the truth. I no longer recognized myself around her.
Arya straightened her spine, jerked from a thought that shook her. “Why am I here, Christian?” She dropped her fork into her half-eaten waffle, turning to me. “You wanted to sleep with me, and you did. You left without a note, without a text, without a call—but with the one thing you expected would make me crawl back to you. What kind of game are you playing? You’re hot one moment, cold another. Tender, then moody. I don’t know if you are my enemy or my friend. You keep skating in and out between the territories. I cannot figure you out, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m reaching the point where the mystery outweighs the allure.”
I took her waffle and carried both our take-out dishes to a nearby trash can, where I disposed of them to buy time. When I returned, I sat next to her. Her fingers were wrapped around a take-out tea.
“I’m not done with you,” I confessed. “I wish I was, but I’m not.”
“You go about things like a fourteen-year-old.”
Because that’s the age I was when you discarded me.
“In that case, how about we start over tonight? The trial will be over in a few short weeks. If we keep things under wraps, it could work. We can enjoy each other in the meantime, then go our separate ways.”
Arya considered this. I kept my smile casual. She had all the power. She could say no, turn her back on me, and go her merry way. But I would never stop desiring her. I’d taken the first, the second, and the third step. I kept seeking her out.
“Fine,” she said, finally. This was my cue to take out my final note. I passed it over to her.
“Another one?” Her eyebrows jumped to her hairline, but she still took it.
“Last one,” I said, watching her face as she unfolded it.
Step 3: Have sex with me at a library.
This time when she looked back at me, there was no amusement in her eyes. “Are you insane?”
“It’s a possibility,” I admitted.
“I mean, let’s start with the obvious—the library is currently closed.”
Tucking my hand into my peacoat’s pocket, I took out a key to one of the side doors. “Problem solved. What else?”
Arya’s eyes flared. “How?”
“I know someone who knows someone who may or may not work here.”
And I paid him a lot of money to make this happen,I refrained from adding.
“Well, the next reason why it’s insane is because it’s illegal.”
“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”
“Yup. It’s going to sound like a double-spread scandal in a tabloid.” She flashed me a don’t-be-cute glare. “We might get caught.”