His gaze moved past Richard.
Past Diane.
Past Evan.
Until it landed on me.
And for the first time that morning, something warm touched the inside of my ribs.
Recognition.
Not his.
Mine.
Because this was not the first time I had seen Julian Cross.
Just the first time the Whitmores knew it.
He inclined his head.
“Alexandra,” he said.
My full name sounded strange in that house.
Richard flinched at the familiarity.
Diane looked at me as if I had turned into another person right there on the marble floor.
Evan’s eyes narrowed.
“You know her?” he asked.
Julian ignored him.
“Are you ready?” he asked me.
I held his gaze.
“Yes.”
Richard found his voice then, though it came out thin.
“What is this?”
Julian finally looked at him.
It was not anger in his face.
That would have been easier.
It was something colder.
Disappointment aged into judgment.
“This,” Julian said, “is the part where you discover she was never alone.”
