Page 71 of The Silent Hour

“You’re right.” I slid my hand into hers.

“Can I record this?”

“Don’t ruin it.” I smiled.

Her lips twitched, a slow grin forming. I pressed my palm against hers, feeling the warmth spread. “I’ll keep everything visible. Business hours whenever possible. If she needs something from me directly, someone else is in the room.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, without hesitation.

I studied her face under the lamplight. Fuck, she was beautiful.

“If she respects the boundary, I’m not going to spend the next year snarling every time her name comes up.” She narrowed her eyes, playful. “Fine. I’ll snarl internally.”

“More believable.” I squeezed her hand.

She softened completely, curling her fingers around mine. “I trust you, Ethan.”

Four words that landed deeper than any argument. I turned her hand over, pressed my lips to her palm, and let the quiet comfort of her faith settle around us like a shield.

Her fingers curled lightly against my jaw. "I mean it. I'm not asking you to stay away from her because I think you're going to trip over your pants and fall dick-first into the woman."

I barked out a laugh. "Jesus Christ, Julia."

"I'm only saying something bigger just entered the room, and we don't know what it is yet."

My amusement faded, the laugh dying somewhere in my throat. That was precisely it—the cold click of a lock turning somewhere we couldn’t see.

"Then we find out."

"We do."

Her thumb moved slowly along my jaw, a warm, deliberate stroke against the stubble there. "And if Lila has nothing to do with whatever her father is doing?"

"She gets treated like any other employee."

Julia nodded once, a clean dip of her chin. Satisfied. No threats hung between us. No ultimatum whispered under the lamplight. No demand that I destroy a woman's career because she felt territorial or jealous. Just a line drawn where it belonged—clean, clear, professional.

I should've expected nothing less from her.

Sometimes I forgot how differently Julia saw the world from other people. She could be soft where others expected cruelty—like now, her hand still resting against my face—and merciless where they expected softness, like the time she’d coldly dismantled a rival’s entire argument without raising her voice.

She’d been raised around men who understood that the most dangerous mistake you could make was reacting before you knew what game you were playing. Whatever this was, we didn’t know the game yet, and I had no intention of letting my wife play what it turned out to be.

I brought her closer, my hand sliding to the small of her back where the black silk of her nightgown felt cool and smooth under my palm.

"Come here, bella."

She shifted toward me, the sound of silk whispering over her thighs like a secret. I cupped her face, my thumbs settling against the high curve of her cheekbones, feeling the faint pulse there.

"I promise you," I said quietly, my voice low in the space between our mouths. "Whatever Cortez is doing, whatever Lila knows or doesn't know, none of it comes between us."

Her gaze didn't leave mine. "I know."

I held Julia's gaze without wavering. "I promise you. Never alone with her. Ever."

The vow sat heavy, like iron settling in my gut. Not because I doubted myself, but because I hated that a woman I already considered a possible liability could ever be turned into a weapon against the one I'd bleed for.

I pressed my mouth to hers, not soft—this kiss had weight, ownership. I tasted the lingering whiskey on her lips, cool and smoky, and underneath it the sharp hint of mint from her toothpaste. Her mouth opened under mine and for a moment there was only this: the slide of her tongue against mine, the warmth of her breath mingling with my own, the solid reality of her body against me.