Page 37 of The Silent Hour

My eyes shifted slowly toward Laurel. She didn't say a word. She simply gave me one sharp nod. Confirmation enough. Interesting. Not damning, not even close. But interesting.

Calm and cordial, I reminded myself. Then I did exactly what Toya had done. I wrapped my hand around the door handle without knocking and walked right in, letting Graceful Bitch immediately took over.

CHAPTER TWELVE

JULIA

THE DOOR SHUT BEHIND me with a soft click that might as well have been a gunshot.

Every part of Ethan's office had my touch. I'd selected the exact shade of the wall behind him, approved the size of his desk, and personally chosen the chair this bitch's ass was currently warming like it belonged to her.

And had she undone a button on her blouse?

My fingers twitched with the urge to grab a fistful of that perfect fucking hair, spin her around this room like a helicopter, and launch her straight out the door. Instead, I swallowed the impulse and arranged my face into a mask of deadly calm.

"Wow. Twice in a matter of five minutes. This must be my lucky day," I trilled, my eyes slicing toward Lila before settling on Ethan.

His brows pulled together. "You saw her before coming in here?"

"Yes." I stretched the word. "We exchanged pleasantries not ten minutes ago." My attention returned to Lila. "Tell me, what's so fascinating that you sprinted to my husband's office and somehow forgot to mention we'd just said hello?"

To her credit, Lila didn't so much as blink. She straightened in the chair, fingers hovering over the same files she'd been carrying when I passed her.

"I was just dropping these off."

"Just dropping them off," I repeated, my lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Funny how just dropping something off involves sitting down these days."

Ethan remained silent, his eyes shifting between us like a spectator at a knife fight. He knew better than to open his mouth and accidentally plant himself on the wrong side of this. Smart man.

Most of the time.

I cocked my head and studied her. "Before I walked in, I heard laughter. Care to share what was so amusing? I do love a good laugh."

"I'd like to be in on the joke too," Ethan added smoothly, his voice carrying a quiet warning. "Nothing was said that warranted that reaction."

Interesting.

Lila smiled at him before turning back to me. "I find humor in the simplest things. Sometimes, it's really nothing."

"Laughing at nothing? That's the first sign of psychosis. Should I call someone for you? A psychiatrist, perhaps?"

Ethan's hand drifted toward his jaw, poorly concealing what I knew was amusement.

"Mrs. Marcelli," Lila stated, addressing me directly. Her voice was wrapped in a layer of politeness so thin I could see straight through it. "I sense you may be upset about my being in here. There's no disrespect intended. I'm merely fulfilling my responsibilities to Ethan, my boss as you reminded me. It was confidential and not something you should worry yourself over."

I caught the glint in her eyes. A pathetic dig from a woman who had no idea who she was fucking with. Did she imagine I was decorative? Some shiny trophy wife who smiled at galas, raised Ethan's children, and knew nothing about the world my husband thrived in? That almost made me feel sorry for her.

All that intelligence. All that ambition. This was what she wanted to do with it, piss me off. I laughed softly, refusing to rise to such weak bait.

"Oh, so you do know exactly who I am. When you suggested I needed an escort earlier, I thought maybe your eyes were failing you." I gestured toward the wall. "Then I wondered if you'd somehow missed that portrait-sized wedding photo hanging right over there."

Her gaze flicked toward the enormous framed portrait from our wedding.

"Take a good look," I added pleasantly. "That way, you never mistake who I am again."

"I never said I was unaware of who you are," she replied, her voice colder now but steady. "It was an unfortunate misunderstanding. Access is restricted in this wing. My earlier comment about escorts was standard procedure. Security protocols exist for everyone's protection, spouses or otherwise."

I looked at my husband. "Ethan."