It was a large brick home patterned after a French villa. It sat on a lakefront lot in one of Boston’s best suburbs. He stepped out as Charles opened the door, thanked Charles and told him he would not need his services the rest of the night. Charles carried his bags into the foyer as he removed his coat. It was good to be home after so long away. Mrs. Alisha Giazelli-Yadav came down the staircase to greet her husband. His second wife was a tall statuesque Italian that he had met in Naples three years ago after the death of his first wife. “Darling, welcome home,” she said as she kissed him. “It’s so good to be back,” he said as he hugged her. He loved her very much and a pang of guilt hit him as he held her. He had just come from his office and the arms of his secretary. He pulled away from her quickly, hoping that none of Pooja’s scent was left on him. Charles came in with his final bag. “Thank you, Charles,” Alisha said and Charles tipped his cap and was gone. “Well, come in and. She had learned how to drink rather well during her time with Marcus – perhaps a skill better not practiced too often – and found she quite enjoyed the occasional feeling of intoxication. ‘Of course,’ she said taking Douglas’ arm and allowing him to lead her to the dining hall. They ate in the formal dining room, the table set at one end for the two of them. Westhaven was lightly staffed with both Martin and Jared taking on footman duties and seeing to their service. A quick look from Douglas dismissed them both once their plates were full and the wine poured. Douglas racked his brain trying to think of something to say. It seemed that most topics were off limits or risked making one or both of them feel uncomfortable. Still, he couldn’t regret his decision to bring Sabrina home. He wanted her here, wanted her to stay. ‘How is your father?’ Sabrina asked, breaking through his thoughts. Douglas took a sip of wine. ‘Not well,’ he admitted. ‘That is actually part of the reason I.
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