CHAPTER THREE
It was nearly midnight—after almost twenty-four hours of travel—when the helicopter finally set down on the helipad at the estate. Julian stepped out into the night air, which was considerably cooler than what he’d left in Singapore.
He and Anthony grabbed their bags from the luggage compartment, then made their way to a waiting UTV. It was a short drive to the house, where they dropped him and his luggage off before Anthony and the driver continued on to the security building.
The house was quiet, and Julian already knew that Duncan wasn’t waiting up for him, so he headed straight for his room. Although he did make a detour by the library to grab a bottle of his favorite whiskey.
As Julian stalked down the dimly lit hallway to his room, the long day of travel and the upcoming meeting with Duncan weighed heavy on him. He almost wished he could have stayed in New York and dealt with his mother instead.
Duncan rarely summoned him for personal reasons, and the summons for business reasons were usually to the offices in New York. This… he just wasn’t sure what to expect. And that unknown drove him to fill his glass with whiskey… more than once.
The next morning came too soon for Julian’s liking, but Duncan would expect him sooner rather than later.
He dragged himself out of bed, into the shower, then dressed in a white, long-sleeved, button-down shirt paired with a Loro Piana Bespoke Suit in navy and his favorite Berluti Alessandro Démesure Leather Oxfords.
Normally, he wouldn’t wear anything so expensive at the estate, but Julian felt like he needed some armor.
For some reason, his gut told him that he wasn’t going to like the reason Duncan had demanded this meeting.
Once he was ready to face the day, though he was still dealing with a headache and fatigue due to jetlag, Julian entered the breakfast room with his shoulders back and his head held high. To his relief, the only people there were Jude and Angela.
Julian forced what he hoped was a casual smile as he stepped into the room. "Good morning."
Jude looked up from his coffee and gave him a curt nod. "Julian."
Angela glanced his way and smiled. “Good morning, Julian. When did you get home?”
Home? He wasn’t sure he considered the estate home.
The familiar pang of guilt twisted in Julian's chest as he looked at Angela. Twenty-four years, and he still couldn't shake the weight of what he'd done. And what he'd failed to do.
He moved to the sideboard, where a spread of breakfast foods waited under warming lamps.
The smell of bacon and fresh biscuits should have been appealing, but his appetite remained nonexistent.
Still, Julian served himself a small portion of scrambled eggs and a single slice of toast, knowing he needed something in his stomach before facing his father.
“We got in about midnight," he answered Angela belatedly as he took a seat at the table. "It was a long day."
Angela nodded sympathetically. "Singapore is quite far. Did everything go well with the meetings?"
"Very productive," Julian replied, forcing himself to take a bite of toast. He had to follow it with a sip of his coffee to wash it down. "The projects there are making remarkable progress."
He noticed Jude's arm was still in a sling, a reminder of the injuries he'd sustained protecting Angela. The security chief was watching him with that unreadable expression he always wore. Julian had never been able to determine whether or not Jude liked him.
There was a five-year difference in their ages, but sometimes, Julian felt like Jude was closer to Duncan’s age.
He wondered if it had to do with Jude losing his dad when he was a young adult.
The man had had to learn to take care of himself.
Meanwhile, at that age, Julian had been partying at college.
“How are you doing, Jude?” Julian asked.
“Better than I was,” Jude said. “But still have a little way to go.”
Angela reached out to lay her hand over his. “He is chomping at the bit to get back to work.”
That didn’t surprise Julian. Jude was nothing if not devoted to his job.
“Where’s Kiara?” Julian asked.
Angela and Jude exchanged a look similar to the one Duncan and Elizabeth shared when they communicated without words. He was still trying to get used to the idea of Angela dating Jude. Most surprising was how Duncan had accepted the relationship between the pair.
But right then, the look between the two had him curious. “Is she okay?”
“She’s… fine,” Angela said with another glance at Jude. “She just hasn’t come down yet.”
There was something in the air that validated the feeling in his gut that everything with Kiara wasn’t fine.
“Well, I’d better not keep Duncan waiting,” Julian said as he finished the small amount of breakfast he’d taken. He drained the last of his coffee, then left the breakfast room.
As he walked to Duncan’s office, Julian smoothed his tie. He had to stop himself from running his fingers through his hair, since he didn’t want to appear disheveled when he met with the man.
When he reached the office, he knocked on the door. Julian heard Duncan's voice call out for him to enter. The deep baritone carried the same authority it always had, and Julian straightened his shoulders one final time before turning the handle.
Duncan sat behind his massive mahogany desk with papers spread before him. The morning light streaming through the tall windows cast sharp shadows across his face, making his expression difficult to read.
He looked up as Julian entered, and those familiar gray-green eyes—so like Julian's own—studied him with an intensity that made Julian's stomach clench.
“Have a seat," Duncan said, gesturing to one of the leather chairs positioned in front of his desk.
Julian settled into the chair, working to keep his posture relaxed despite the tension coiling in his shoulders. The whiskey from the night before had left him with a dull headache that pulsed behind his temples, and he hoped it didn't show on his face.
"Thank you for coming back."
The formality in his father's voice made Julian's stomach tighten. He settled into the leather chair, fighting the urge to fidget with his cufflinks. "Your message made it sound urgent."
Duncan leaned back slightly, his penetrating gaze fixed on Julian's face. "I received your report from Singapore. Excellent work. Sean's progress with the FemPulse is impressive."
"Thank you." Julian waited, knowing that wasn't why he'd been summoned.
"However, that's not why I asked you to come back." Duncan folded his hands on the desk. "I need to discuss a personal matter with you."
Julian tensed. Personal discussions with his father rarely went well. The last one had been about Angela's return, which had been fine, but before that… well, he preferred not to think about those conversations. They usually turned into lectures about the choices he made regarding who he dated.
"Is everything okay with Angela?" he asked, even though he knew the answer since he’d just left her.
“Angela is fine," Duncan replied, his expression unreadable. "This concerns Kiara."
Julian's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't expected that. "Kiara? What about her?"
"She's pregnant.” Duncan studied him for a long moment, as if measuring his reaction. “And I believe you may be the father."
The words hit Julian like a physical blow. He blinked, certain he'd misheard. "I'm sorry… what?"
Duncan's expression didn't change, but Julian caught the slight tightening around his father's eyes. "I understand this is shocking news. But I need you to think carefully about your interactions with Kiara over the past little while."
Julian's hands gripped the armrests of his chair as fragmented images swirled through his mind.
The library. Kiara's laugh echoing softly in the dimly lit room.
The burn of the alcohol on his tongue. But the memories felt like looking through frosted glass—shapes and shadows without clear definition.
"It's not possible," he said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears.
But maybe it was? He didn’t have clear memories of the time they’d spent together past a certain number of drinks. Plus, it might explain why she’d stopped spending time with her. Had he…? He couldn’t even stomach the thought that something had happened between them that she might not have wanted.
"I… we talked," Julian said slowly, his voice hoarse. "In the evenings. But I don't remember…" He trailed off, the implications making his stomach churn.
"You don't remember what, exactly?"
The question hung in the air. Julian pressed his palms against his temples, trying to force clarity through the fog of too much alcohol and too late nights. "I don't remember anything happening between us that could have led to… a pregnancy."
Duncan's expression hardened. "Julian, I'm not asking for details of your intimate life. I'm telling you that Kiara is pregnant, and the timeline aligns with when you two were spending evenings together."
Julian ran a hand through his hair, disregarding his earlier concern about appearing disheveled. "Has she said I'm the father?"
"She hasn't confirmed it, but she hasn't denied it either." Duncan leaned forward slightly. "When I asked her directly if you were the father, she said she'd rather not say."
The implication hung heavy in the air between them. Julian's mind raced, desperately trying to piece together what might have happened. Surely he would remember if something physical had happened between them.
The headache he’d woken with that had been a dull throb suddenly sharpened into something more vicious.
He thought of the looks that Angela and Jude had exchanged in the breakfast room. If there was anyone that Kiara would have confided in about who the father of her baby was, it would have been Angela.
Julian's hands clenched into fists on his thighs. The hesitancy in Angela's eyes when she'd said Kiara was "fine" suddenly took on new meaning. She knew. Of course, she knew.