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“Perhaps.”

He stepped toward me again. “Rochester wasn’t very good at leaving either.”

I laughed. So did he. “Good night, Alexander.”

“Sleep well, Emilia.”

This time, when he turned toward the door, he didn’t look back.

* * *

Alexander

Winston greeted me at the door as I entered.

I crouched down and scratched behind his ears. “What a good boy.” He took the compliment with a smile and led the way into the living room. I poured myself a measure of whisky and remained standing at the windows. Manhattan stretched across the night below me. Sitting felt impossible.

Earlier in the day, Marcus had informed me that the security upgrades were now complete. New access readers had been installed, additional cameras activated, and staffing increased throughout the building. The changes were noticeable, but not unusual. Institutions like Blackwood Hall were constantly evolving and no one would think twice about another round of modernization.

Keeping Emilia safe had become part of Blackwood Hall’s purpose.

I had given Marcus one more instruction. If Dr. Rossi was alone in her suite, I wanted a security officer stationed nearby.

My thoughts went back to Emilia’s apartment. I had wanted to stay. I wouldn’t pretend otherwise. An hour later, I could still smell her on my hand. I wanted her again immediately.

I had taken her to the portrait gallery because I wanted to spend some time with her. The portraits were the excuse. The rest happened because neither of us wanted the day to end.

Every time I showed Emilia another part of Blackwood Hall, I saw it differently. Rooms I had walked through thousands of times were new again simply because she was standing in them.

I loved watching her smile. I had seen it in the conservatory, in the Fellows’ Dining Room, and again that afternoon in front of a forgotten portrait no one else had asked about in years. Each smile made it easier to believe this might become home to her in the way it had long ago become home to me.

For four years, wanting her here had felt like enough. Lately, I had begun imagining what would come after that.

My gaze drifted toward Winston, asleep now at my feet.

Perhaps…it was time for Winston and Emilia to meet.

Chapter 17

Emilia

I woke up to a text message from Alexander.

Hi Emilia,

I hope you don’t mind my texting you. If your morning permits, I would be delighted if you would join me for breakfast in the Fellows’ Dining Room.

--Alexander

I smiled after reading it. Of course Alexander Blackwood texted like he was composing a formal letter. I typed my reply.

I’d be delighted. I’ll meet you there.

Emilia

By the time I reached the dining room, Alexander was already seated near the window. Two cups of coffee and breakfast were waiting on the table, the morning paper folded neatly in front of him. He stood up as I approached.

“Good morning, Emilia.”