“There is no scandal.”

Ethan rose from the couch. “Then explain the hotel.”

My stomach tightened. “What hotel?”

He pulled one last photograph from the envelope. In it, Daniel and I stood beneath the awning of the Blackstone Hotel, his hand at my elbow, my head bent toward him as rain blurred the street behind us.

It looked intimate. It had also been taken after a charity gala, when Daniel’s wife suffered a severe migraine and asked me to walk him down to their car for her medication.

“You could have asked me,” I said.