As luck would have it, the gates swung inward to let out a vehicle. It was the van from Aldi’s Market; they’d probably dropped off Cyrus’s weekly grocery delivery. No change there—everything on schedule. She gripped the steering wheel and slipped in on the right side as they drove out on the left. If no one was paying close attention to the video camera trained at the gate’s entrance, she’d have the element of surprise on her side.
She entered the house as if she belonged there and was immediately accosted by the memories. She and Cyrus used to eat breakfast in the kitchen down the hall when he came back from his morning run through the neighborhood. She also recalled reheating meals for a late night dinner and going up to the rooftop patio to enjoy them together under the stars.
Those moments had been special but she couldn’t afford to dwell on them now. Nostalgia led the way to weakness.
Now to find him.
She’d only walked a few feet when Ms. Ernestine appeared, her gray and white uniform crisp and clean. Damn.
Officially Cyrus’s housekeeper, she also cooked many of his meals and worked closely with the house manager to maintain the house and grounds. Ms. Ernestine eyed her with a surprised smile. They hadn’t seen each other since she left. “Mrs. Johnson, what are you doing here?”
“I, um…”
“You’re too late for Katie’s birthday party,” Ms. Ernestine supplied. “The last of them left about thirty minutes ago.”
“Oh no, too bad.” She tried to gauge the older woman’s disposition. Apparently, Cyrus hadn’t told her anything negative. “Is Cyrus around? I’d like to talk to him.”
Ms. Ernestine stood in place, but her expression remained pleasant. “Mr. Johnson is in his office, working.”
Good, she could get him alone right away. Relieved, Daniella smiled. “Thank you.”
“It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Johnson.”
Ms. Ernestine continued on to her destination and Daniella breathed a quiet sigh of relief she’d gotten this far. Nothing at all like the fiasco at the Johnson Enterprises building.
Cyrus’s office was at the back of the house where he could work in peace and quiet, so she had quite a walk and plenty of opportunity to see reminders of their life together. Her chest constricted when she saw all of the changes she’d made were still in place. Several contemporary pieces of art lined the walls, and she’d removed the drapes from the windows in the main corridor that ran along one side of the house, leaving them bare to allow in plenty of light.
Her steps slowed at the entrance to the reading room. Books lined the shelves and a skylight allowed sunshine to pour in without restriction. The Chinese powder-blue vase she’d set on one of the bookshelves remained in place. Cyrus hadn’t been fond of the color, and she’d fully expected it to be gone.
Why had he left it there? Why had he left any of it—the paintings, the wall hangings, even furniture remained that she’d chosen. How could he live here with all of these reminders of her and their failed marriage?
Because in his eyes, their marriage hadn’t failed.
Her confusion gave way to the anger that had prompted this visit. He hadn’t removed anything because he’d had every intention of forcing her to come back. By any means necessary.
With her anger freshly nourished by thoughts of Cyrus’s manipulative tactics, Daniella started once again toward her destination.
At the end of the quiet corridor, she flung open the door and slammed it behind her, happy to have the element of surprise on her side. Cyrus paused in the middle of pacing behind his desk, tension ball in hand.
For a fleeting second her heart tripped. This was the third time she’d seen him within a short period, and the additional contact was doing strange things to her nerves. So was the fact he didn’t have on a suit jacket and looked particularly stylish and attractive wearing a pair of wide suspenders over his white shirt. Tiny vibrations filled her stomach. He’d always looked so damn good in his suspenders—downright delicious, in fact—and this time was no different.
Damn him.
“We need to talk. Now,” she said. She marched forward and slammed down the correspondence Roland had dropped off. “What is this?”