Chapter 4: House Rules

I went in and he shut the door behind me.

The study was lined with screens, and every one of them showed the same logo.

Winslow Hospitality, in gold, over a column of red numbers.

"Sit," Keir said.

"I'll stand."

"Then stand."

He didn't sit either.

He leaned against the desk with his arms folded and looked at me as if he had been practicing this conversation for years.

"What did you mean about my father?" I asked.

"Not tonight."

"You said I can't find out what happened that night. What night?"

"Millicent."

"Which night, Mr. Stroud?"

"Keir." His voice stayed level. "And the answer is not tonight."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because the Winslows threw you out in the rain, and I wasn't going to leave you on that curb."

"You didn't see the curb. You were at the party."

"I saw the party."

That was when it came up out of me, the thing I had been carrying since the ballroom.

"You saw it," I said. "You stood against a pillar, and you watched two hundred people laugh at me, and you raised a glass."

He didn't move.

"You didn't walk over. You didn't say a word. You had a drink in your hand and a good view."

"I had a good view," he said. "That's true."

"That's all you have to say?"

"I was watching who looked at you. Almost everyone looked at Bree." He paused. "Richard Winslow looked at you."

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