Chapter Three
Sienna
I’m engaged. To a stranger. For money.
I've watched enough Law a polished concrete floor reflecting the soft lighting with a single modern sculpture perched on a sleek white console table.
Pope lets go of my hand to let me step further in and the living room unfolds before me.
Walls are kept in neutral shades, broken only by the expansive windows that offer a panoramic view of the city.
The furniture is sparse—a plush, low-slung sofa in the shade of dove gray, a pair of leather armchairs positioned just so and a coffee table that seems to be carved from a single block of stone.
There are no family photos, no personal knick-knacks, nothing to suggest that this is a lived-in space.
It’s almost like this room was designed to be admired, not lived in, and I imagine the other rooms are the same way, too.