Page 72 of Wicked Brutal

Victor nods. “What would you write?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fiction?”

“Probably.”

“Romance?” His mouth curves.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Maybe.”

“That would be a nice hobby.”

There it is.

Victor takes another drink. “You can write from anywhere.” He lets that settle, then adds, easy as anything, “Middleburg is quiet.”

I look at him. “Middleburg?”

“Virginia.”

Dad glances at Victor. “We haven’t discussed that.”

“No reason not to.” Victor looks at me. “I have a property outside town.”

I take a bite of dinner and keep my voice light, mildly curious, the good fiancée finally showing interest. “Is that where you live?”

“Part of the year.”

“Where are you the rest of it?” The question sounds harmless. It is harmless. I’m supposed to be interested in my future husband, and Victor seems pleased that I finally am.

“New York primarily. Palm Beach during the season. Virginia. London when necessary.”

I nod. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It can be.”

“Why so many places?”

Dad laughs. “Ally, you don’t care about real estate.”

I shrug. “I care if I’m supposed to live there.”

Victor smiles. “Fair enough.”

Good. That’s enough. I don’t ask another question. I don’t need to. Dad thinks I’ve lost interest almost immediately, and Victor probably does too. They go back to talking.

“You’re still going to Zurich next month?” Dad asks.

My attention sharpens, though I keep my eyes on my plate.

Victor nods. “If Hollis gets confirmation in time.”

“From Vane?”

“Yes.”

Dad gives a dismissive laugh. “Then I wouldn’t pack yet.”