Page 67 of Pretty Little Wife

Nothing in his expression saidwelcome. She picked up a bit ofhow dare you?mixed withoh shitand decided he was half-right.

After a few seconds, he nodded his head in what she took was a gesture to shut the door. Keep all the secrets in and don’t let the public see the mess. She’d grown up that way, and being with him threw her back into that mindset. The secrets and the scheming. But she closed it anyway.

He was the first to speak, and the harsh whisper of his tonematched his stiffness. “What the hell are you thinking by coming here?”

“You didn’t answer my call.” She didn’t bother to lower her voice or rein it in. He’d lost the right to have her care about his reputation when he dug into her past with abandon.

He bent down and retrieved the book, returning it with care to its assigned space on the shelves. “The police searched my damn house yesterday, Lila.”

“CID.”

“Does the precise name of the office really matter?”

His voice rose along with her indignation. Every cell inside her screamed to open his window and shout about his betrayal to the quad. Let him regain hisfavorite professortag after that. “You don’t get to be pissed off.”

“Excuse me?”

He’d flipped the whole situation around and blamed her, put her in the role of begging forgiveness. As if she didn’t have enough garbage to worry about right now.

Screw that shit. This offensive strike was meant to throw her off balance. Little did he know that’s where she lived now. On the fringes, ready to fall into the abyss.

“The drama, the fake outrage—whatever this is—tone it down. Your students aren’t here to watch and applaud.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Your marriage bullshit has turned my life upside down.”

Maybe true. She needed to own a part of that, but she’d do it in silence unless and until he explained the reams of papers he had collected about her without warning. “Oh, really?”

“I have a job and a life, Lila.” He pointed toward the closed window behind his desk. “Right now I have a meeting with the department chair and—”

“You used me.”

He froze. A second later his arm fell to his side. “What are you talking about?”

But he knew. The sudden blank expression and slight uptick of his voice gave him away.

She’d thought he was so different, but he wasn’t. “The research. My life. My father. My mother’s suicide.”

His hand closed over the back of his chair. “I can explain.”

Sure, now he wanted to explain. How convenient. “That you’re a piece of shit? No need. I get that.”

His fingers tightened. “Be careful.”

“Of what?” When he didn’t speak, she tried to spell it out. To make sure they were on the same plane. “Threats? Really, Ryan?”

He blew out a long breath and visibly regained control. Gone was the tight frown line on his forehead. His hand no longer held the leather in a suffocating clench. “Okay, let’s calm down for a second.”

Déjà vu slapped her across the face. The calming voice. The gaslighting. Aaron had used those tactics. He’d excelled at them. She hated the nonsense even more coming from Ryan because she’d expected better of him. “Now you want to placate me?”

He reached over and closed the blinds, blocking out thesun and plunging the room into shadow. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

He chose this battleground when he refused to respond to her. “Are you afraid I’m going to yell? Embarrass you?”

“The research isn’t what you think it is. I’m sure you’ve blown this into something bigger, but—”

“Aaron said the same thing to me.”

Ryan’s head snapped back. “What? You’re comparing me to your asshole husband?”

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