Page 17 of The House on Forgotten Hill

His smile widened. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you.”

He stepped aside. “Come in.”

The moment I entered, I understood why Preston’s house was so much larger than every other home on the hill. The foyer alone looked as though it belonged inside a luxury hotel. A massive chandelier hung overhead, casting light across pale marble floors. A curved staircase rose along one wall, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the backyard.

“Follow me,” he said. “I’ll give you a tour.”

We began the tour in the living room, a room that was larger than my entire downstairs. It had cream-colored furniture, dark wood accents, and enough artwork to fill a small gallery. Some even looked like originals.

Every room we entered was immaculate, with nothing out of place.

We left the living room and continued through a set of glass doors leading toward the back of the house. The property stretched much farther than I had realized. Beyond the pool was a covered outdoor bar, a sunken firepit, and a tennis court lit by small lanterns set into the surrounding stone.

“Do you play tennis?” I asked.

“Not well, I’m afraid.”

“Then why have a court?”

“Because it was already here when I bought the place. I couldn’t bring myself to tear it out. I find it charming, like a piece of the past worth preserving.”

He opened the door to the garage, and I stopped.

Seven sports cars were parked in a perfect row.

“You have seven cars?” I asked.

“One for every day of the week.”

“Seems excessive.”

“I’d say it seems fun.”

I laughed despite myself.

His gaze dropped before returning to my face. “I like your dress.”

“Are you planning on complimenting me all night?”

“If you deserve the compliment, why not?”

Deserve.

Interesting choice of word.

He led me back inside and into the kitchen, where dinner had already been arranged on the island. A large bowl of pasta sat beside roasted vegetables, garlic bread, and a salad topped with shaved parmesan. Three bottles of red wine stood nearby, each with labels I didn’t recognize but suspected were expensive.

“It smells wonderful,” I said.

“I’m glad you approve.”

I looked around the kitchen.

Every surface gleamed, and there wasn’t a dirty pan in sight.

No discarded utensils in the sink.