Chapter 1 - The Answer He Should Have Given
“Because I thought catching her mattered more than asking you.”
Julian’s answer landed without the protection of an excuse.
Mara stood beside the door, one hand gripping the frame.
He looked at her for a moment, then lowered his eyes.
“And because I was arrogant enough to call that protecting you.”
Outside the suite, someone wheeled a cart along the corridor. Glasses rattled. A housekeeper laughed at something.
The ordinary sounds made everything inside the room feel even more unreal.
“What were you catching her doing?”
“Helping someone fabricate evidence against me.”
“Then why am I the person waking up in your bed?”
“Because she needed a woman who could be made to look compromised.”
Mara stared at him.
“Any woman?”
“No.”
That frightened her.
Julian noticed, but this time he did not step closer.
“Your father worked for the Vale Foundation.”
Mara’s hand tightened on the doorframe.
“Don’t.”
“He found financial discrepancies before he died.”
“Don’t talk about my father like you know him.”
“I met him twice.”
“My father kept accounts for a charitable foundation. He wasn’t involved in whatever this is.”
“He tried to report money being diverted from housing restoration grants.”
Mara remembered her father sitting at their kitchen table during the final months of his illness, moving figures between spreadsheets while his dinner cooled.
She had thought he was trying to finish work before treatment made him too tired.
Perhaps he had been.
Perhaps there had been more.
Julian continued carefully.
“Someone believes he left records with you.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how long have you known who I am?”
“Three weeks.”
She laughed once.
“You came to our apartment.”
“Yes.”
“You ate food I cooked.”
“Yes.”
“You listened while Tessa told you how forgetful I was.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“And you let me think you were her boyfriend.”
“I let the implication stand.”
“That’s a very expensive way to say you lied.”
He accepted it.
Mara looked toward the window. Manhattan shone beneath a pale morning sky.
She needed somewhere solid to put her mind.
A fact.
An action.
Something belonging to her.
“I want my phone.”
Julian pointed to the table beside the bed.
She picked it up.
The message from Tessa was still there.
Please get my silver clutch. Suite 2704. East elevator. Hurry.
Mara took screenshots.
Then she photographed the room, the discarded heel beside the chair, and the open doorway.
Julian watched silently.
“Where’s my other shoe?”
“Under the sofa.”
She retrieved it.
Her hands shook so badly that fastening the strap took three attempts.
“Did anyone examine me last night?”
“A hotel medical responder.”
“Name?”
“I can get—”
“Get it.”
He made a call from across the room.
Mara opened a message to her aunt June.
I need help. Please call me now.
The reply arrived almost immediately.
Calling.
Hearing her aunt’s voice nearly broke her.
“Mara?”
“I’m at the Bellamy Hotel.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know all of it.”
June did not demand a better answer.
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
“Can you get to the lobby?”
“Yes.”
“Go. Stay near the front desk. I’m coming.”
Mara ended the call.
Julian held out a business card with a handwritten name on the back.
“The responder. The hotel has an incident report.”
She photographed the card before taking it.
“You don’t know whether Tessa put something in my drink,” she said.
He went still.
“No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”
“Then don’t tell me she didn’t.”
“You’re right.”
“And you don’t know that I was never in danger.”
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
Enough.
“No,” he said. “I don’t.”
Mara opened the door.
“Mara, there are things you need to know before—”
She turned.
“No. There are things you need to give my lawyer after I find one.”
He stopped.
“If you want independent counsel, I can provide—”
“I don’t want anything chosen by you.”
For a moment, she thought he would argue.
Instead, he stepped away from the doorway.
She walked to the elevator without looking back.
In the lobby, she found a chair beside the front desk and sat where cameras could see her.
A man in a gray suit approached.
“Ms. Ellison? Mr. Vale asked me to make sure—”
“Stop.”
He stopped.
“Tell him I said no.”
The man nodded and retreated.
Ten minutes later, Aunt June arrived in sneakers, carrying a coat and the kind of expression Mara remembered from childhood emergencies.
She wrapped the coat around Mara’s shoulders.
Then she asked, “Hospital or home first?”
Mara looked toward the revolving doors.
“Hospital.”
June nodded.
“Then hospital.”
As they crossed the lobby, Mara’s phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent a photograph.
Mara in Julian’s bed.
May you like
Beneath it were six words.
Tell us where your father’s papers are.
