Julian was a stoic, old-money heir who rarely showed emotion.

Right now, he was standing perfectly still, his eyes locked onto the crumpled red lingerie I’d left on the velvet ottoman.

Slowly, he raised his head and looked at Elena.

“You were sleeping with him?” Julian asked.

His voice wasn’t loud, but in the sudden, suffocated silence of the room, it rang out like a gunshot.

“While we were finalizing venue deposits, you were laundering his money and sleeping with him?”

Elena’s glossy mouth opened, working like a broken hinge. She reached a hand out toward him. “Julian, darling, please… it’s a manipulation… she doctored the texts…” Nothing coherent came out.