“This is your home now,” he said.
From the upper landing, Vivian watched us.
Her face gave nothing away.
The reception continued into the evening. Near midnight, I went upstairs to remove my heels.
When I returned, I found Vivian waiting at the bottom of the staircase.
Most of the guests had gone. Music drifted faintly from the conservatory.
“You’re better than I expected,” she said.
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“It isn’t.”
She stepped closer.
“My father likes broken things. Hotels about to fail. Buildings everyone else wants demolished. Employees with sad stories.”
“I’m not one of his projects.”
“You became engaged after two months.”
“That was his decision too.”
Vivian’s smile hardened.
“You think this house belongs to you because he put a ring on your finger?”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She glanced toward the portraits lining the wall.
