Page 63 of Nothing to Tell

“Receive people,” since when had statements like that been part of her life?

Three stories, eight tall windows, four on each side flanking the central reception column of windows that towered over the front stoop.Stoop?Yeah, that wasn’t the right word.How far back did the house extend?She couldn’t tell and almost didn’t want to know.Huge was the word.

Boy, wrong wasn’t a strong enough descriptor.

Bastian grew up there.In his family home.

Bile threatened the back of her throat again.Her face flamed.She couldn’t relax.Why?She was an imposter.She didn’t belong there.

The stranger who helped her out of the car also escorted her up the stairs.She couldn’t run away while he had a hold of her.Even if she broke free, was she supposed to run to the road?She’d probably pass out dead on the journey.

Once inside the marble floored foyer, the curve of the sleek double staircase dominated the space.She might be a fish out of water, but she couldn’t deny the beauty of the architecture.

And that wasn’t the only beautiful thing present.

Bastian approached.“Hi.”

The man from outside left her side.

“Hi,” she managed, but tensed when he bowed close to kiss her temple.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to pick you up, but there was a disaster at work and—never mind.I’m sorry.”

Shaking her head quickly, she clammed up completely when he tucked her hand into his elbow.One clumsy foot in front of the other somehow kept her going.

Her focus stayed low.Shifty, that’s how she’d look, but she couldn’t help it.If these people got one straight look, they’d tag her a phony.Trying to relax just made it worse, her body stayed rigid.

Still walking, Bastian gathered her closer in a sort of subconscious suggestion he sensed her discomfort.

All she saw of the hall they entered was the beautiful parquet floor beneath her feet.She couldn’t bring herself to lift her chin.The buzz of noise surrounding them revealed that this wasn’t like any dinner party she’d attended.There were more people there than in some restaurants.Thirty people?Forty?

“What’s the matter?”Bastian asked, bringing her around, face to face, using his body to block her view of the room and everyone in it.

“Nothing,” she said, meek even to her own ears.

Her tone didn’t matter much when she still couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Sweet, talk to me,” he said, grazing his finger down her temple.“Has something happened?If you’re not in the mood for this, we can get out of here and—”

“I didn’t know,” she murmured, forcing herself to look up.

His frown fell.The blank expression that took its place became something else, something like pity.Shit.

She counted to ten.No words passed between them.

As his mouth opened, a gong sounded and he closed it again.

“That’s dinner,” he said on another breath.“We’ll talk after, okay?”

She nodded.It wasn’t like she had much of a choice.

TWENTY-THREE

THE DINNER WAS exquisite, no other word for it.

Being seated opposite Bastian, she didn’t have to talk to him throughout the meal.Which worked because she still hadn’t processed.Each time she sipped her wine, her eye caught on his scowl.He wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t sure she was either.

The meal stretched on for hours.Felt that way anyway.Only after the coffee and brandies were handed out were they allowed to leave the table.People were directed into another room to enjoy their refreshments.After consuming a seven-course meal, she didn’t have space for another mouthful, even a liquid one.