Derek went home to his house in London, he rarely went there, as he spent most of his time in his work home— Hotel Ruzzo. For a whole week he made himself happy with the huge, silent emptiness of the place. It was home. It was where he belonged. For perhaps the first time in his life he realized that he actually loved it.
He had never been much of a one for self-pity. Why should he have been?
There were thousands who would give a right arm for even a fraction of the privileges and wealth and power he took largely for granted.
He wandered from room to room in the house, far more than he usually did, and enjoyed the knowledge that there would be no people beyond every door, waiting to converse and be conversed with. He roamed about the large park surrounding the house, on foot, and was t
