Page 52 of He Knows When You're Awake

In the corner, partially sheltered by a pergola, stands a massive Christmas tree. Every branch holds crystal and silver ornaments, each piece catching and fracturing the light. No colored lights, no tinsel—just pure winter elegance that matches the rest of the space. The kind of tree that belongs in a place like this, sixty stories above the city.

The view through the glass walls takes in most of Manhattan. The Empire State Building rises ahead of us, its spire bright against the night sky. The Hudson River cuts a dark line in the distance. Office buildings cluster close by, their windows still lit up despite the late hour. Central Park opens up before us, darker than the surrounding blocks and dusted with the snow that fell earlier.

“God, this view is incredible,” she breathes, turning slowly toatake it all in. “I’ve lived here ten years and I’ve never seen the city quite like this.”

And then she sees her—Vivienne Moore, current Hollywood It Girl, sitting in a makeup chair while someone touches up her hair.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, turning to take it all in. “Cole, what is this?”

“Your jewelry deserves better photos than phone shots,” I say, enjoying her shocked face. “Vivienne agreed to model for a private shoot. The photographer’s ready whenever you are.”

She takes a few steps forward, touching one of the light stands like she can’t believe it’s real. “This is crazy. When did you even set all this up?”

“When I saw you were stuck,” I reply. “Sometimes seeing your work on someone else helps break through the block.”

“You arranged all this?” she asks, still stunned as an assistant approaches with a clothing rack—all whites and silvers that will make her jewelry pop.

“Your work deserves it,” I reply. “The collection needs good photos before launch. Something that shows what you’ve created. The edge, the beauty, the frost effect you’ve been chasing.”

“Fur blankets and all?” She runs her fingers over one of the blankets. Below, steam drifts up from the street vents. The low clouds suggest more snow is coming before morning.

“A frozen girlfriend would be significantly less entertaining.” The word slips out before I can catch it.Girlfriend.Like I’m sixteen instead of thirty-five.

She smirks but doesn’t comment as Vivienne walks over to us.

“Your jewelry is amazing,” Vivienne tells Sloane, genuine excitement in her voice. “Those dagger earrings made me feel like an ice villainess. In the best way.”

“Thank you so much! I’m thrilled you liked them,” Sloane says, her smile widening. Then she turns to me, eyes bright. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“I pay attention,” I say simply. “Even to the things you don’t say out loud.”

We move toward the set where the photographer gives Sloane a nod. “Ready when you are. Your vision. I’m just here to capture it.”

Sloane hesitates briefly before her professional side takes over. I watch as she directs the shoot, placing pieces on Vivienne carefully, adjusting angles, suggesting poses that show off her designs.

“The necklace needs to catch the light right here.” She shows Vivienne, adjusting the centerpiece. “So the diamonds break the light instead of just reflecting it.”

I sit back, watching and occasionally asking questions as the shoot goes on. Despite her initial surprise, Sloane runs the set confidently, her vision clear. The photographer follows her lead, recognizing she knows what she’s doing.

“Today was pure hell before this,” she admits during a break while Vivienne changes. “I hate days when nothing works right.”

I nod, understanding. Sloane’s work is more than just jewelry; it’s art. Each piece carries a piece of her soul.

“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” I suggest. “Sometimes, when we force things, they resist.”

She looks at me, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Is that your philosophy on relationships too?”

I chuckle, caught off guard by her directness. “Perhaps. Though I find some things are worth pursuing, even if they resist at first.”

Sloane’s eyes linger on mine for a moment before she looks away, her gaze drifting to the twinkling city lights beyond the rooftop. “I’ve never been good at forcing things,” she admits softly. “In my work or... otherwise.”

“That’s not always a bad thing. Your determination but also your flexibility is what’s gotten you this far.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “And what about you, Cole? What’s gotten you this far?”

“Calculated risks,” I reply, watching her closely. “Knowing when to push and when to step back.”

Sloane nods, her fingers tracing the edge of her blanket. “And which are you doing now?”