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When fiercely ambitious lawyer **Ryan Cole** attends an art gala hosted by a major client's company, the last thing he expects is to be captivated by anything outside the courtroom. But then he meets **Evelyn Jones** , a passionate and free-spirited artist working behind the scenes of the event. Evelyn, who curated the entire show, is juggling her creative dreams with the constraints of her corporate day job. Their worlds couldn't be more different-Ryan thrives on control and logic, while Evelyn lives for spontaneity and emotion. Yet, as the night unfolds, their banter turns into sparks. Intrigued by each other's perspectives, they begin to cross paths beyond the gala. A chance meeting turns into coffee dates, studio visits, and late-night conversations about art, law, and life. But as Evelyn considers a leap of faith into full-time artistry and Ryan faces a career-defining case with the same company that employs her, their budding connection is put to the test. Caught between duty and desire, they must decide if they can find a common canvas to paint their future together.
Chapter 1 Unspoken Noise
Ryan Cole didn't care for art galleries.
They were too vague, too subjective. A blur of color and texture masquerading as revelation. He preferred facts. Precedent. The clean, comforting structure of a contract or the crisp edges of logic. But tonight, logic wasn't on the agenda.
He stepped into the gallery like a man walking into a foreign country without a translator. The event was high-profile-hosted by Solvance, a tech conglomerate and one of his firm's most high-paying clients. He was there to represent Whitmore & Grant, flash a few smiles, and ensure the right people felt seen.
The gallery buzzed with curated elegance. Sleek lighting bathed the room in warmth, illuminating canvases hung with casual precision. Sculptures lined pedestals like silent judges. Waiters in black vests floated by with glasses of champagne and bite-sized art installations disguised as hors d'oeuvres.
Ryan sipped a drink he didn't like and moved through the crowd like a well-dressed ghost.
Then he saw it.
A painting, tucked away on the far wall, half-obscured by a twisting metallic sculpture. It was unlike the rest. No sleek polish, no safe color palettes. This one pulsed with emotion-violent strokes of red slashing through stormy layers of grey and blue. Shadows dragged through light. The chaos wasn't random-it was controlled, but only just.
The title beneath read: Unspoken Noise.
Ryan stepped closer, drawn in despite himself. The canvas felt like a conversation someone had screamed but never said aloud.
"Careful," came a voice behind him, smooth as silk with a subtle rasp. "That one bites."
He turned and saw her.
The woman from the painting. Not literally, of course, but the energy was unmistakable. She had that same magnetic contradiction-messy and graceful, intense and light. Her jumpsuit was smeared with tiny specks of dried paint, as if she'd stepped out of a studio and into this event without pause. Her earrings, shaped like tiny paintbrushes, swung slightly as she tilted her head.
"I take it you're the artist," Ryan said.
"And I take it you're either lost or very bored," she replied with a sly smile.
He chuckled. "Neither. Just... curious."
"About the art, or the company's attempt at pretending they care about creatives?"
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly the PR rep for this event, are you?"
She stepped forward, arms crossed, but not defensively. "I'm Evelyn Jones. I work in Solvance's design team. I helped curate tonight's collection." A pause. "And that one's mine."
Ryan glanced back at the painting. "It's not subtle."
"It wasn't meant to be."
There was a beat of quiet. Not awkward-just charged. The room buzzed behind them, but in this corner, time slowed.
"Ryan Cole," he said, offering his hand. "Whitmore & Grant."
"Ah. Lawyer," Evelyn said, shaking his hand with a wry grin. "I was wondering when you'd reveal your final form."
"I like to think of it as a necessary evil."
"Depends who you're defending," she said, letting go of his hand and taking a sip from her champagne flute. "Or what you're compromising."
Her words lingered. Ryan studied her more carefully now. She wasn't just witty-she was sharp in a way that cut through pretense. There was a weight behind her playfulness, the kind that came from watching something beautiful fall apart and still finding the nerve to paint it.
"You said this one bites," he said, nodding to the painting. "What were you trying to say with it?"
Evelyn's expression softened, eyes flicking toward the chaotic canvas.
"That some things deserve to be loud. Even if no one's listening."
Ryan didn't answer right away. He just looked at the piece again. Really looked. And for the first time in a while, he didn't try to rationalize what he felt.
He just felt it.
"I should mingle," Evelyn said finally, stepping back. "But thanks for letting Unspoken Noise breathe for a while. Most people glance and move on."
"I'm not most people," Ryan replied, quietly.
She didn't smile this time. She just looked at him like she already knew that.
"Good," she said, and then walked away into the crowd.
He watched her go, unsure why the room suddenly felt louder without her in it.
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