OLIVIA’S POV
I did not hear the conversation. I was not trying to hear it. I was in my room with the door closed reading the same page I had been reading for forty minutes when I heard his voice briefly in the corridor. Low and deliberate. The particular tone that meant a conversation was being ended rather than had.
One minute. Maybe less.
Then silence.
Then his footsteps moving away toward the penthouse level.
I set the book down on my chest and looked at the ceiling.
I thought about Camille at the entrance hall. The cream coat and the practiced smile and the eyes that moved over me like inventory. The way she had said it is a beautiful house and meant something entirely different.
I thought about Ethan in the kitchen.
Just be careful
He had said it weeks ago and I had filed it
