She closed up the bag, darting her eyes from the laptop back to me with a smirk. “Have you been following Isabella’s Heartstring saga?”
I hung my head and laughed a little. “Yes, actually. In a way.”
“Who do you think she’ll pick?” the woman asked me.
Finally, as she posed the question, she slid my bag and receipt across the counter. “Oh, I think everyone will be very surprised with who she picks. Keep watching,” I winked.
Just before I could take off for the door, the owner of the shop came in from the back. He quickly assessed the bag in my hand, then the empty spot left in the case.
“Rachel!” he barked. “Where’s that piece at? What did you do!? I know there’s no way Dawson could have afforded it.”
She pointed to a painting in the corner. A portrait. “This guy has mettheIsabella Landson. That’s a portrait of her! That he did! It’ll be worth a fortune. We worked out a trade.”
The guy hesitated for a moment, looking between her and the painting, then nodded to me—a signal that I was free to go, bag in hand.
I took off out into the busy streets and flagged down the first taxi I could. The city was particularly busy and frantic that day, most people in a tizzy over the Heartstring event. Just getting a cab took nearly fifteen minutes. But I was finally able to land one and hopped in to fire off instructions for my destination to the driver.
Just my luck. We were still sixteen blocks from where I needed to be and the streets were grid-locked. The screen in the backseat broadcasted the Heartstring Bachelorette finale, reminding me how little time I had left.
“Sorry, pal,” the driver offered. “We’re going to be here awhile. It’s at a standstill for the next mile or so.”
I raked my hands through my hair and sank back against the seat with an anxious sigh. I knew my plan may not even work. But Isabella wasthe one. I had to try.
I was unwilling to let something like traffic ruin my life. I told the driver to stop the meter and threw him some cash before jumping out and taking off down the street. I was sweaty and coughing from exertion by the time I reached the doors of the studio. There was a huge crowd outside, and even though the event was well underway—a whole crowd was still trying to get in.
I pushed my way towards the front doors, trying to spot some sort of sign of hope that I could find a way inside. I was left at the mercy of the security guards barricading the entrance.
“Back up, sir,” he ordered. “No one can get in without a ticket, and everyone who has a ticket is already inside. Which means you’re out of luck.”
“Please, I know how this sounds. But I know Isabella Landson—the woman in there. And she is about to make the biggest mistake of her life. I have to stop her.”
“Yeah, right. Okay,” she laughed sarcastically. “I’m sure some chump like you knows her. I can’t help you. If it was that important, I guess you should have bought a ticket.”
I cursed under my breath, getting pushed around in the collective sway of the crowd around the doors. Then it hit me.
“Hey, do you like art?” I asked the security guy. He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. But he didn’t exactly say no. I bobbed my head to the side, motioning for him to follow me to discuss negotiations more privately.
I struck a deal with him as quickly as possible, which still took far too long. He was supposed to come by my studio and put in an order for a big portrait of him and his family, on the house. And in exchange, he let me in one of the private side entrances, only after patting me down to make sure I wasn’t some crazed shooter or bomber.
I burst through the studio, navigating my way to the auditorium where they were filming. I lingered near the back as the CEO of Heartstring, Lucas Meadows, finished his introduction.
“That’s why we were so committed to finding true love for Isabella Landson,” he told the crowd. “And we’ve all been surprised with the results and the response. Ms. Landson will no doubt be the first of many bachelors and bachelorettes that we take through the Heartstring journey to love, while you lovely viewers cheer them on every step of the way. But, for today, we have one very important reason for gathering. And that is for Isabella Landson to reveal to us which of the ten lucky bachelors is in fact the love of her life.”
Everyone cheered and applauded as Lucas finished his spiel and invited Isabella out onto the stage. I paced the back of the room, waiting for the right moment. My heart leaped at the sight of Izzy, but she looked terrified and upset—even though she was trying her best to hold it together for the crowd.
“Thank you, everyone,” she said softly into the mic. The whole room grew quiet to hear her fragile voice speak. I may have been the only one who could see her obvious indecision and heart ache.
I zoned out as Lucas asked her a string of questions to draw out the suspense. Izzy laughed and played along the best she could. Then the moment came for her to announce her chosen bachelor to the world. A rolling drum track played and a big bright spotlight narrowed in on her behind the podium.
But while everyone waited anxiously for her to speak the name of her true love, Isabella froze like a deer in headlights, seemingly unable to give them what they wanted. This was my chance to save her.
“Isabella Landson!” I called out from the back as I approached the stage.
She startled and tried to shield her eyes from the bright lights to see who was calling for her. The audience erupted in a chorus of murmurs and whispers.
But half way down the aisle, halfway to Izzy, Jack stepped directly into my path—crossing his arms and glaring at me.
“I thought I told you what would happen if you came near her again,” he growled.
