"Richard…" I whispered. His face was carved stone, his eyes distant. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the house, his tall frame rigid with anger and sorrow. Every family, I thought bitterly, is dysfunctional—even if you have all the money in the world.
*****
I loved the garden in the Numero mansion. I sat on the cool stone bench, the one nestled beneath the old oak, and stared at the explosion of roses blooming around me. Bright red, lush and full, they looked almost indecent in their beauty. I reached out and traced a fingertip along a velvety petal, thinking how much easier it was to fall in love with flowers than with men who carried storms inside them.
Richard's sudden departure and Mrs. Numero's breakdown had left me feeling… odd. She had been wrong about one thing, though. Richard didn't love me. He tolerated me. Needed me, maybe.
"Well, if it isn't the latest Numero princess," came Sam's voice, smooth as aged whiskey and annoyingly smug.
