His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

Chapter 790

Winter sat in her chair, her hands folded in her lap, her dark eyes fixed on the flames. Her expression was blank.

Jason shifted closer.

His chair scraped against the wooden floor, a loud awkward sound in the quiet room. Winter did not look at him.

"So," he said, "do you like your room?"

Winter nodded. "Nice room."

"Really?"

"Yes."

She did not say anything else.

Jason fidgeted. He picked up a spoon from the table, turned it over in his hands, set it down. He picked up a napkin, folded it into a small square, unfolded it, folded it again. He looked at Winter, then at the fire, then at Winter again.

"The bed is comfortable," he said. "I picked the mattress myself. Tested seventeen different ones before I found the right one."

Winter nodded.

"The sheets are soft," he continued. "My mom picked them. She has good taste."

Winter nodded again.

"I have extra blankets in the closet if you get cold," he said. "The blue ones are the warmest. The gray ones are just for looks."

"Okay."

Jason’s leg bounced under the table.

He asked about her major. Her classes. Her professors. What kind of robots she built. Whether she had named any of them.

Winter answered. Short answers. One word, sometimes two.

"Robotics."

"Yes."

"Dr. Chen."

"No names."

Jason nodded too many times.

He took a breath.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked.

Winter looked at him.

"No," she said.

Jason’s heart leaped.

He leaned forward. "Do you want one?"

Winter was quiet for a moment. She looked at the fire, then back at Jason.

"No," she said.

Jason’s heart deflated.

"Oh," he said. His voice was small, barely a whisper.

Winter turned back to the fire.

Jason sat in silence. His leg stopped bouncing. His hands rested on the table, limp and still.

"So," he said after a long moment, "you don’t have a boyfriend, and you don’t want one?"

"Yes."

"Not ever?"

Winter shrugged. "I don’t think about it."

Jason stared at her. "You don’t think about it?"

"No."

"How can you not think about it?"

Winter’s voice was calm. "I think about robots."

"Robots?"

"Robots."

Jason opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "You think about robots instead of romance?"

Winter nodded. "Robots are more interesting than people. Robots make sense. People don’t."

Jason wanted to argue. He wanted to say that he made sense. That people made sense. That she made sense, even when she was quiet and still and spoke in single syllables. But he did not.

He just nodded.

"I like robots too," he said.

Winter looked at him.

"Fast cars," she said.

Jason blinked. "What?"

"I know you like fast cars. Not robots."

Jason tilted his head. "I like both."

Winter tilted her head too, mirroring him. "Cars are just robots with wheels."

Jason’s mouth fell open. Then he laughed loudly.

"Cars are just robots with wheels," he repeated, shaking his head. "I’m going to use that. I’m going to put that on a t-shirt."

Winter turned back to the fire.

Jason watched her. Her profile was sharp in the firelight, her dark hair falling across her cheek, her lips pressed together in a neutral line. The flames danced in her dark eyes, small and golden.

He wanted to say something flirty, but in front of her he was not able to say anything because of her blank face. When he flirted with other girls, this never happened.

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Meanwhile, Bella walked down the hallway toward the room where Jay and Jace were staying. The gray light from the window at the end of the hall cast long shadows on the walls. She stopped in front of their door.

She could hear murmuring inside, low voices that stopped and started, like they were arguing about something, then trying to be quiet, then arguing again.

Bella knocked loudly.

The murmuring stopped immediately.

Then something fell. A thud, then a crash, like someone had knocked over a lamp or dropped a book or sent something heavy tumbling to the floor. A muffled curse followed.

Bella’s frown deepened.

The door opened. Jace stood there, his hair messy and his shirt wrinkled, his eyes wide. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen, waiting for the impact.

"Bella," he said. His voice was too high, too fast and too nervous.

She pushed past him into the room without waiting for an invitation.

The curtains were drawn and the lights were off, but there was enough gray light filtering through the fabric to see. Clothes were scattered on the floor, jeans and shirts and a single sock lying by itself near the foot of the bed. The bed itself was unmade, the blankets twisted and the pillows dented. A photo album peeked out from under the blanket, its corner visible, its cover worn and faded.

Jay sat on the edge of the bed, his back straight and his hands on his knees, like a soldier awaiting inspection. He looked guilty. They both looked guilty.

Bella closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her arms crossed over her chest and her brown eyes sharp.

"You two," she said, "need to stop hiding. I feel like you need to tell Leo the truth. I have a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling."

Jay and Jace exchanged glances, a quick look that spoke volumes.

Jay started, "Bella—"

"Don’t ’Bella’ me." Her voice was firm, brooking no argument. "I’ve seen the way you’ve been acting. Sneaking around. Whispering. Disappearing at odd hours. Leo has noticed too. He’s not stupid."

Jace shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "We know he’s not stupid."

"Then why are you keeping secrets?"

Jay opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. No sound came out.

Bella’s eyes swept the room again. The photo album under the blanket. The way Jace kept glancing at it, like he was afraid she would see it. The way Jay’s hands were clenched on his knees, his knuckles white.

"Are you two hiding something else too?" she asked, her voice low.