Page 27

But then Charles appears in the doorway, and the moment he sees me, his face softens. I don’t know why, but it makes me less afraid of what is about to happen.

“Do you like it?” I ask as he steps into the room.

“You look very beautiful, Miss Meadows,” he says with a clipped nod.

Charles moves around the room to restore order to the mess I’ve made. He folds tissue paper, gathers garment bags, and collects the many teacups I've abandoned on three separate surfaces.

"Charles, what’s Dante like?" I ask.

"Mr. Di Zaro is a very private man,” he says, picking up the garment bag the dress arrived in.

"That doesn’t tell me much,” I say.

"I didn’t intend it to."

“Can you tell me anything? Give me some insight into the man I’m marrying. Does he have hobbies? Interests? Does he watch TV? Does he cook?”

“He reads.”

“He reads,” I repeat. “That’s it?”

“He reads extensively.” He folds up tissue paper into a neat pile. “And he is very particular about his coffee.”

“Reads books. Likes coffee. Anything else?”

“He doesn’t suffer fools.”

“You mean he doesn’t like to be called out when he’s being an ass.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. I think I have a very good idea of what kind of man he is.”

“Which is?”

“A bully.”

“Mr. Di Zaro is a very complex man,” he says, leaving the room with an armful of tissue paper.

“Which is a nice way to say he’s a bully,” I call out to him.

I hear him in the kitchen, putting the trash down the garbage chute.

When he reappears, I try again. “Has he been married before?”

“No.”

“Engaged?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend? Significant other?”

“Mr. Di Zaro does not form attachments,” he says, taking a shoe box off the dresser and bringing it over to me.

“Thank God for small mercies,” I mutter.

Charles kneels and opens the shoe box. Inside are a gorgeous pair of heels, and he holds one out.