I looked toward the window. Palermo moved past in bright stone and blurred faces.
“What else do you know?”
“You study law. You prefer constitutional law to criminal law, which is ironic under the circumstances. You live above a retired music teacher who complains about your footsteps. You dislike olives but pretend to eat them at formal dinners. You have been photographed leaving more nightclubs than most people visit in a lifetime.”
There it was.
The judgment from the altar.
“You believe photographs tell you everything.”
“I believe patterns tell me enough.”
“And what pattern have you found?”
He leaned back.
“You are frequently bored, rarely careful, and accustomed to being forgiven.”
The words were not cruelly spoken. That made them more irritating.
“You have known me for twelve minutes.”
“I have known of you for years.”
“Then you know nothing.”
“I know you agreed to marry a stranger rather than lose your inheritance.”
