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He gritted his teeth. “Fine. You will find it is the second door on the left, and I believe clothes have been moved in for you.”
“You knew that I wanted my own room.”
“You kept one on the island.”
A strange wave passed between them, a question that she didn’t ask, and one that he didn’t press.
“I’m going into my office.”
“Where is that? Which room?”
“Not an office here. I must go into the office. We were gone for so long, and before that I was already in San Diego. Everything has been handled in my absence, but I need to make an appearance.”
“You just got here.”
“Yes. But you are in New York. I’m sure that you can find something to occupy yourself.”
The man he’d been on the island wasn’t the man he was in truth, and the sooner Minerva learned that the better.
There was no place for tenderness or pity inside him.
No place for hope.
He knew that those things only brought about destruction. And he would never allow himself to be destroyed again.
And without a backward glance, Dante walked back out of the penthouse, leaving Isabella and Minerva behind him.
