Page 69 of The Silent Hour

She shook her head, but the amusement disappeared quickly. "Tell me everything."

I laid it all out for her, what I could. Coleman. The case. Cortez waiting until the last moment of the meeting to drop his demand. His insistence that Lila held information he needed for his defense. His quiet assumption that I’d simply slot her onto the team. And most crucially, the yawning unknowns: did Lila even know about her father’s machinations? Had she ever acted on his behalf? Did the timing of his request mean anything—anything at all?

By the time I finished, Julia’s stature beside the dresser went rigid. The single lamp in the corner cast long shadows across her face, turning her eyes to dark pools. She drew in a breath, held it, then let it out in a sharp whisper.

“Well,” she said at last, voice hushed but every syllable jagged, “that’s fucking inconvenient.”

I forced a dry laugh, the sound brittle in the quiet room. “That’s one word for it.”

Her gaze lifted, cool and evaluating. “Do you believe him?”

I paused, walking over to stand behind her at the edge of the bed. The sheets were rumpled, the pillows still warm from earlier. “About which part?”

“Any of it.” She set down the glass she’d been turning in her hand; beads of condensation traced lazy paths down the side.

I kept my eyes on the pale swirl of ice against the whiskey. “I believe she’s his daughter. That can be verified.”

Her brow furrowed, the crease between her eyebrows deepening. “And everything else?”

“I don’t know.” I twisted my wedding band around my finger.

She watched the ice cube clink against glass. “Does she know he came to you?”

“According to him, no.”

Julia’s lips pressed together. When she spoke next, her voice was softer but sharper. “Then those might be two completely different things.”

“That’s exactly where we landed.” I sat beside her, felt the mattress dip under my weight. The city lights outside filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the duvet.

Her eyes snapped back to mine. “We?”

“Katerina made the same point. She said: if Lila knew her father was angling to force her onto his defense team, making googly eyes at me would be a pretty fucking stupid strategy.”

Julia’s mouth flattened. “Please never call them googly eyes again.”

I almost smiled at the small spark of exasperation in her tone. “Noted.”

She rose from the bed and began pacing the narrow space between nightstand and footboard, each step measured. “So we have Lila, and separately we have her father—a man who may have plans involving her that she doesn’t even know about.”

“Correct.”

“And he wants you to take his case.”

“Correct.”

She halted mid-stride and turned to me, arms crossed. “Are you going to?”

I met her steady gaze. “Don’t know yet.”

“Do you want to?” Her question carried no edge of jealousy—just assessment, like a chess player sizing up the board.

“Professionally?”

“Obviously.”

I let out a soft sigh. “Yeah.”

Her mouth quirked. “I figured.”