The House

-

s too quiet w

ehind the drawing-room curtains, watching the black Mercedes disappear into the tree-lined drive, the shadows

goodbye. Just a polite nod a

his assistant

as gone, the silence pressing in around

filled with relics of a family legacy I had married into but didn't understand. Sometimes, I

whispering against the marble flo

ye

p in the

ouse is his," he'd once said, meaning Christopher. His step

panels and portraits of unsmiling ancestors. There were no flowers here. No warmth. Just the

his v

uldn't b

s and low golden light. Christopher D'Amelio. Power in human form. He look

ed up. A drink in one hand. Barefoot. Casual, y

trespass," I said,

is head. "D

between us. He didn't

han isn't here," I said b

led. "So

That's not w

ass, then stepped toward me. "Then t

ed me with heat under his stare. He had the kind of presence t

son," I whispered, ba

. "Ethan is not my blood. We were never fami

He's my

htly over my wrist. "Wandering into the one part of the house

I think you like pl

warm against my temple. "

. Silen

ago. When Ethan disappeared upstairs and left you stranded

ace away. "Th

at night. And sad. Like

hing the curve of my shoulder. His touch

" I br

d

idn't mo

oftly. "But be careful, Ivana. Curiosity can be dang

. Unbothered. A whisper of e

e long after

ame. With questions.

ng like

-

That

ed, staring at the mirror. My refl

n my thoughts. My skin still tingled where he'd touched m

ng

alone. The sheets co

drifted to sleep, it was

Etha

i

stop

-