suit emerged.
With her silver-blond hair, keen blue eyes, and steady, confident posture, she looked very much like someone who regularly handled uncomfortable conversations.
“Rowan Pierce?”
“Yes.”
“I’m June Lockwood. The new owner.”
We exchanged handshakes.
June was fifty-three, a successful architect who had purchased the property as her family’s future home.
She examined the entrance.
“Everything ready?”
“Everything included in the sale is exactly where it should be.”
“Excellent.”
I gave her the keys and alarm details.
I explained Dorian’s intentions.
June let me speak uninterrupted.
Afterward, she crossed
