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27
Damian openedthe door to the house in Westchester and stood back while Aria stepped into the foyer. It had been strange to drive up the long path leading to the house with Aria by his side. The last time he’d been home, she’d been in Greece. He hadn’t been sure this moment would ever come, and he had to resist the urge to feel like he’d somehowcheatedfate.
Aria was his fate. Bringing her home was the fulfillment of theirdestiny.
He followed her into the house and turned on the chandelier that lit the entry, its crystals casting thousands of luminescent teardrops on thewalls.
Damian set their bags down and leaned against the wall while she surveyed the marble floors, the soaring ceilings, the curved staircase and thick mahogany balustrade leading to the secondfloor.
Cole had met them at the airport, but Damian had been waiting for this moment for a long time. He wanted it to be private. Wanted to remember the moment when Aria first stepped into the home where they would build their futuretogether.
“It’s so beautiful,” Aria said, turning to him. “You grewuphere?”
He nodded. “I should warn you that it still needs some work. My mother and I stayed in the city most of the time after myfatherdied.”
He didn’t have to tell her that the memories had been too much for them to bear here. That he had been slowly exorcising them from the house as he sanded and stripped wallpaper and repaired windows andstainedwood.
Somehow he knew sheunderstood.
She stood before him, wrapped her hands around his neck, kissed him tenderly on the lips. “We’ll finish the worktogether.”
He nodded. “Are youhungry?”
She shook her head. “I want to see thehouse.”
Hesmiled. “Now?”
They’d cleaned up in Paris and left immediately for New York. He’d wanted to stay the night, to give Aria time to rest after what had happened in Marchand’s cyber lab, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’d insisted she was fine, and the fire in her eyes hadn’t left any room for argument. They’d headed straight for the airport after profusely thanking Christophe and Charlotte and promising to return once everything was settled inNewYork.
She kissed him again and stepped away. “I think I should see it if it’s going to be my home,don’tyou?”
The words sent a thrill of possession through him. A thrill ofbelonging.
He was going to make her his wife when this was all over. He was going to make her his wife and they were going to fill this dark, old house with light and the laughter of theirchildren.
He couldn’t remember who had said you can’t go home again, but they’d beenwrong.
He could. Hewould.
And he would do it with Aria byhisside.
He took her hand. “Come on then,” he said. “We can’t have you getting lost on your way to thekitchen.”
He led her through the front parlor, its Art Deco mural still intact, and down the long hall. He showed her the study he’d renovated first, remembering all the nights he’d spent on the leather sofa when Aria had been missing, all the drinks he’d poured from the bar to try and forget long enough tosleep.
They continued to the cavernous kitchen, the original soapstone counters still intact. The windows that looked out over the fields that led to the woods were dark but he knew she’d be thrilled with the view in the morning. He showed her the giant mud room and laundry room where there had once been four washers and dryers to handle all the linens required for all the entertaining his parents — and his grandparents — had done back when large gatherings were still held in family estates likethisone.
They were preparing to leave the kitchen when she hesitated at the door to the cellar. “What’sthis?”
He had a flash of the shooting range, the home gym lined with weapons he’d used to train when he’d been planning Aria’srescue.
“A basement with a shooting range,” he admitted. “And a gym.” He took her hand. “I want to show you thegreenhouse.”
He didn’t want to show her sad or violent things. He wanted her to see only the best of the house, only the best of him, the best of the life they would havetogether.
“I’ll see the greenhouse tomorrow when the sun comes up,” she said, opening the door. “Show me thebasement.”
He wanted to argue but he knew there would be no point. Something resolute had crept into her voice since the attack on the cyber lab in Paris. She was on a mission, and she wouldn’t bedeterred.
