roses that didn't need inspecting, the newspaper clipping cl

eamble. "Twenty-five years ago. A hou

away, and when he finally did, his face had gone the same as

id you g

photograph of a woman who died in a fire twenty-five years ago, and her last name

othing to d

ays I'm marrying a man named De Santis, and you won't even tell me why his name makes Mom

edge. His hands were shaking around the shears. "Some things are buried for a reason, Elena. Dig

stranger is so determined to marry me he'd hand

shoulders rigid, and the silence told her louder than

-

s still in the front hall when his car pulled up the drive, and by the time he stepped

f the last forty-eight hours hadn't happened, as if he w

tails." She crossed her arms. "

cker of something crossing his face before the

you hear

een hiding something about her since before I was born." She stepped closer, refusing to let his height or his stillness intimidate her into silence. "Th

s eyes went colder, harder, like a door bolted from the

not a

level, but there was an edge under it now, thin and

eving. "So there is something. You're

ething almost like restraint, like a man holding a door shut against considerable pressure. "I'm here to discuss the we

epeated. "Easy to say when you're

d then he turned and left without another word - which told her, more than anythin

-

tudy. The broken drawer was locked again, but she'd watched him hide a spare key

transfers, settlement documents, dates stretching back further than she expected. She sat cross-legged on the floor and

pped loose and fell into her lap, yellowed at

rned i

and deliberate, like he'd written it mor

ca De

the center of all of this - and from the unbroken seal still clinging t

ssing in around her, every instinct telling her that whatever was written inside was the ans

lded the