72

72

Mason's POV

I wasn't an idiot. Bethany thought she could slip out and back in like a thief in the night, but I noticed everything. The scent of cold air clinging to her hair, the way her boots were dusted with dried mud, the faint pink flush on her cheeks that told me she'd been out doing God-knows-what instead of staying where she belonged. My wife had secrets, and tonight, I was going to uncover them.

I leaned against the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, watching her with a predatory calm. She was curled up on the couch, thumbing through a book, her face a perfect mask of innocence. Too perfect.

"Enjoy your little adventure?" I asked, my voice casual but sharp enough to slice through the tension in the room.

Bethany didn't even flinch. She looked up from her book, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What are you talking about?"