POV: Julian Cross
Iris had left the bed while he was still sleeping.
Julian woke to the impression of her absence, not just physical, but the kind of absence that comes from someone deliberately erasing their presence. The sheets on her side were already cooling. The dent in the pillow was already fading. She'd been gone long enough to ensure he wouldn't wake to her there, wouldn't see the awkwardness in her face, wouldn't attempt morning conversation that would complicate what they'd done in darkness.
He understood, lying alone in his bed, that something had fundamentally shifted.
Before last night, he could have told himself that everything was strategic. The marriage was leverage. The investigation was operational. Even the attraction he felt was just another aspect of surveillance, wanting to understand her motivations, her fears, the way her mind worked.
