Page 9 of The Silent Hour

"I do."

"And you knew last night?" My voice came out flatter than I intended.

"No." The answer was immediate.

I waited, letting the silence stretch.

"I knew your first name. That's it." He shifted his weight, sunlight catching the stubble along his jawline. "This morning, I had someone make sure you were who you said you were."

My eyebrows lifted. "You had me checked out?"

"I had a woman I met in a nightclub, who woke up in my home, checked out."

I stared at him. "When you say it like that, you make me sound like a potential organ thief."

"You could be." His tone was matter of fact.

"Do I look like I know how to remove a kidney?" (I did)

His gaze traveled over me with deliberate slowness—from my knotted shirt to my crossed arms to the skeptical tilt of my chin—with absolutely no shame. "You want me to answer that?"

I fought a smile and failed. "Asshole."

His grin flashed, quick and bright.

"So," I said, "you know my Tato."

"I know of him," he said, the words clean and precise, leaving a deliberate space between knowledge and acquaintance.

There was a difference.

A significant one.

"And that doesn't bother you?" I asked, watching the way his thumb brushed against the seam of his pocket.

"Should it?" He didn’t look away from me, his gaze steady beneath the afternoon sun.

I gave him a look sharp enough to cut glass. Ethan laughed, a low sound that seemed to start in his chest. "Julia, I'm a criminal defense attorney. Your father's name isn't exactly going to send me sprinting across six lanes of traffic."

Fair. The tension in my shoulders eased by half a degree. "What exactly did your little investigation tell you about me?"

"Enough." A single syllable, wrapped in certainty.

"That's vague." I could feel the sun warming the back of my neck.

"You're Julia Kovalenko." He began ticking points off on his fingers. "You play violin. You've been performing since you were nine. You have an apartment you apparently don't spend enough time cleaning."

My head snapped toward him so fast the world blurred at the edges. He laughed, the sound rich and unapologetic. "I'm kidding about the apartment."

"You better be." I could feel the heat on my cheeks. "I alphabetize my spices; I'll have you know."

"And you have people," he continued, his voice dropping into something more serious, "who would become extremely inconvenient for me if you disappeared after leaving a nightclub with a stranger."

I smiled, all sweetness and sharp edges. "Inconvenient?"

"Violently inconvenient." The words came out flat, but factual. “That was why I suggested you let everyone know you were safe and alive before we headed out.”

"A wise suggestion."