The car stops under a grand, pillared portico and another graying old man comes to greet us. He bows on seeing Damien.

“Welcome to Heaven’s Gate, Your Grace,” he says.

Damien acknowledges him with a nod. “Gellar, this is Miss Singh. She’s my guest. Please put her things in my suite.”

Gellar’s head snaps to mine, his eyes widening. But he immediately masks his surprise and walks inside the house leading us forward.

“Come on,” Damien says with a beaming smile. He takes my hand. “Let me show you around. If you liked the view outside, then prepare to be suitably impressed by the interiors.”

Grinning at his enthusiasm, I allow him to drag me inside. Our feet click and echo against the flooring. I look down and see pearlescent mosaic tiles threaded with silver and gold spreading across the floor of the monstrous foyer and into the house. A large circular mahogany wood table is placed right at the center. Arranged on top of it is a huge bouquet of fresh flowers overflowing from a gigantic Ming vase.  Sunlight filters from the stained glass domed ceiling, painting the table in vivid shades of red, yellow and blue. I stare slack jawed at the beauty surrounding me and I haven’t even fully entered the house yet.

Damien tugs my hand and draws me further inside.  As we cross a huge staircase, he turns to me, “I’ll show you the upper floors later.”

He’s buzzing with excitement as he guides me through to several salons, each decorated in different color schemes and used for various occasions. There’s a morning room, a retiring parlor, a modern TV den, a games room, an informal dining room, a formal dining room that seats thirty-six, I know because I counted, several guestrooms, a study and a massive ballroom that could fit three hundred people or more perhaps.

We venture from one room to the other, my eyes sparkling at the visual treat of witnessing firsthand the interiors of such an old and magnificent home. It is a designer’s delight. Everything I’ve seen is grand and larger than life. Several walls are adorned with paintings of world famous painters of the past. I recognized a Monet and a Van Gogh on my tour and I definitely saw a Rembrandt as well. As we cross the ballroom, a painting on the wall to my right catches my attention.

I move closer to it and my mouth drops open. “Oh my God! That’s a Titian!”

“Incredible,” I rasp looking at Damien with wide eyes.

He smiles. “You do know your art.”

I turn back to the beautiful portrait of a woman in front of me. “Of course, I studied art, especially the renaissance period.”

We stand side by side staring at the painting.