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“You’re not interested in finishing?”
“Oh, no, that’s not it. I felt a little queasy upstairs, and I…I’ve seen a lot of the house before.”
“Have you been here another time, then?”
“Yes, I…I know the homeowner.”
“I see.” The man’s suspicious expression cleared, and he finally cracked a smile, which took the edge off his gruff exterior. “You’re in luck. I believe he’s in the solarium. Why don’t you go on in and say hello? I suspect he’ll be delighted to see you. Right this way.”
The man moved forward but stopped when he realized Lillian wasn’t following behind. “Aren’t you coming?”
“He’s…he’s here…the homeowner? Right in the next room?”
“Yes, of course. There’s an afterparty in progress for those who purchased the option. Do you have a ticket to the party?”
Lillian nodded, digging in her purse for her cell phone. “The garden party…that’s right.” Why was it so hard to formulate a coherent thought? All the other guests were probably in the solarium, as the man called it. That explained why this part of the house was empty.
She flicked through her texts and located the invitation she’d received, showing it to the guide, who nodded.
“Follow me, then, and I’ll take you there.” The man was much taller than she’d realized at first, towering over her. He turned and moved forward again, and Lillian found herself moving after him slowly as if in a dream.
She cleared her throat and tried to communicate her unease. “I’m not so sure the homeowner will want to see me.”
Her guide glanced back at her and grinned. “A pretty girl like you? I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to learn you went on the tour tonight. Have you seen the solarium during your other visits?”
“Not really. Not up close.” Lillian put one foot in front of the other. This was her chance to see Tristan one last time—she shouldn’t blow it. She could at least thank him for saving her life and congratulate him on his engagement. Although if her dad had somehow got things wrong…but no, she couldn’t contemplate the possibility, couldn’t let herself dream things were different. She only wanted to apologize for the lies she had told.
“Prepare yourself, then, because it’s something to see,” the man said.
“To see? Oh, yeah, the solarium.” She nodded and attempted a smile, but it came out two parts adrenaline, one part anxiety.
The man didn’t seem to notice, his gritty voice remaining even and calm. He seemed to be enjoying himself, rattling on like they were old friends. “I personally think it’s the coolest part of the estate—kind of reminds me of one of those fairy gardens.”
She nodded, half-listening, but refrained from responding, which didn’t stop him from continuing his one-sided conversation.
“Right here’s the living area. Pretty fancy, eh?”
They passed through a large room and entered another giant, open area with brick floors and skylights.
“Here we are. What do you think?”
Lillian paused at the entrance, taking in the numerous lanterns and twinkling lights scattered around the space. Waiters dressed in black and white outfits served sparkling glasses of champagne and an assortment of elegant hors d’oeuvres.
Her partner nabbed a glass of bubbly from a passing waiter and handed it to her. “Drink up. No doldrums here. This is a party, remember?”
She dutifully took the glass and had a sip, peering over the rim at groups of people gathered around the swimming pool and walking in the backyard beyond, where more lights twinkled.
Realization dawned, and she gasped. The backyard was the garden Tristan had promised to show her one day. Now she’d see it for herself. She swallowed hard and scanned the crowd for Tristan, first left, then right—he wasn’t there. She let out the air she realized she was holding.
“Over here.” Her tour guide motioned behind her.
She looked where he was pointing, and her heart stopped beating for an instant. Tristan stood in the center of a small crowd, looking cool and confident and oh, so handsome. In a single glance, she took in the pair of white slacks and the charcoal-gray shirt he wore and the look on his face, which was animated as if he told a joke. As she watched, his gaze slid past his companions and met Lillian’s, and her heart beat once again, although much faster.
Something tightened in Tristan’s expression, or dimmed, she wasn’t sure. He didn’t speak or otherwise gesture, nothing to give a clue to his emotions or if he wanted to talk to her. Lillian’s gaze naturally flicked to his partner, and her heart nosedived into her shoes.
As she had feared whenever she imagined seeing Tristan again, he wasn’t alone. Angelina stood next to him, dazzling in a white shimmering dress with a slit up one side and cute, strappy sandals. Unlike Tristan’s unreadable expression, the glare Angelina directed Lillian’s way was enough to knock her to the ground. Angelina stiffened her shoulders and drew herself up like an outraged peacock, tucking her arm in Tristan’s to send a not-so-subtle territorial message.
Keep away. He’s mine.
