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me.
    Some days, Julianna hated herself for being so blind. So trusting. She should have learned her lesson long ago. She hadn’t.
    “So, are we going to hang out here all morning?” Devlin drawled.
    Julianna realized she’d been staring up at the mansion for far too long. Flinching a bit, she hurried up to the door. Once, Jeremy had kept a full staff there—maids, a cook, even an honest-to-goodness butler. But he’d gotten rid of most of the staff after her first accident.
    Accident, my ass.
    She’d given a severance package to the last of the employees after Jeremy’s death. She just hadn’t wanted anyone there, watching her. No, worse, she hadn’t trusted them. They’d been Jeremy’s employees. Employees who’d seen what he did to her, and who’d said nothing.
    She unlocked the door and stepped inside. As always, the cavernous place felt cold to her. Icy. Rather like a tomb. She crossed the marble floor of the foyer, heading toward the large staircase—a spiral staircase that curved toward the second floor.
    Devlin gave a low whistle as he glanced around. “Nice place. I can see why you wouldn’t want to leave.”
    His words pissed her off. There he went—making judgments about her.
And the guy lived in a penthouse!
Like he could really throw stones her way.
    Julianna sucked in a deep breath. Then another. She wanted to tell him that she’d been
forced
to stay. But Julianna knew she had to play things carefully. Her life was—still literally—on the line.
    Devlin approached her, and in that too big house, his steps seemed to echo. “You been staying here alone?”
    “I’ve been staying at a hotel. I just come back when I need fresh clothes.” How to explain that she hated this place? That she couldn’t wait to sell it? But selling wasn’t allowed, not just yet. Jeremy’s will was being held up and Sophie had told her she had to play it cool and
not
do anything that would make her look guilty.
    Or, rather, guiltier.
    “Show me where you found him.”
    Right. That’s why they were there. Julianna straightened her shoulders and headed into the den. She pointed to the right. “The giant blood stain is gone.” Thank goodness. “I had the carpeting replaced in here once the police were done, but Jeremy was there. He died
there.
”
    “Was he face up or face down?”
    She blinked. Julianna had figured he’d read all the gory details already, but perhaps he just wanted to hear her tell him about that terrible night. “He was on his stomach, but his face was turned—turned toward me. His hand was out.” As if he’d been reaching for her. She cleared her throat and pointed a bit to the left. “I was here. I mean, I woke up here.”
    He paced closer to the spot she’d indicated. A positon just a few feet from Jeremy’s elaborate bar. Made of old, antique cherry wood, the bar gleamed. Jeremy had always kept that bar well stocked. And the crystal glasses that were oh-so-perfectly arranged on the bar—and on the shelves behind it—shined.
    “He was dead when I woke up,” Julianna said. She’d told others that same line so many times.
    But Devlin didn’t reply. Instead, he started opening the bar’s cabinet doors.
    She frowned. The bar wasn’t so well stocked now. “There’s nothing here…no booze at all.” She cleared her throat. “The cops confiscated everything. I haven’t exactly been interested in restocking.”
    Devlin nodded. “Did you have a lot to drink the night your husband died?”
    Again, it was a question the police had asked her, too. “I-I remember having one glass of wine.” A glass for courage. That was how she’d remembered it.
    Devlin tilted his head as he studied her. “Just one?”
    Tell him.
If he was going to protect her, if he was going to face the danger surrounding her, then she had to tell him a little more. Not everything, of course, but more of the truth. “That night, I was telling Jeremy that I was done. That I wouldn’t stay. That he couldn’t