I rested my head against the cool window, watching the buildings and pedestrians slide by. Creed Manor. Of course. Because he hadn’t tortured me enough already.
Daxton’s car was already parked and empty when we pulled into the wide circular drive. Knox’s home was a sprawling brick mansion, and though the estate was as wet and gray as the rest of D.C., it had a warm, inviting feel to it that I resented. I didn’t know what I’d expected from the place Richardhad grown up, and where he had slowly been forged into a rebel, but this wasn’t it.
The inside was cozy. Nothing like the cold, elegant starkness of both Somerset Manor and Mercer Manor, which had technically belonged to the Hart family anyway. The floors were made of wood, bright curtains opened up to wide windows, and artwork hung on
