7. Julian
JULIAN
T he weeks crawl by, but I’ve never felt so alive.
Felix doesn’t make anything easy, not that I expected him to. He doesn’t flirt back, doesn’t react when I push his buttons, doesn’t give me even an inch. It’s infuriating...and fascinating.
It’s like trying to hold smoke in my hands, watching him keep his distance while I crave any excuse to close it.
We’ve spent time together—our usual tutoring sessions, grabbing coffee between classes, working out in the campus gym, even studying at the library. I’ve learned he drinks his coffee black, prefers facts over small talk, and carries a quiet intensity that makes everyone else fade into the background.
I’ve also learned that it’s possible to be utterly captivated by someone without ever touching them. And it’s driving me insane.
We’re in the campus library again, tucked into a quiet corner where the dim lighting and the smell of old books linger. Felix’s laptop screen glows faintly, the cursor blinking over a dense block of text he’s been reading for the past twenty minutes. I’m supposed to be doing my own work, but I can’t focus.
“Hey,” I say, leaning closer and resting my chin on my hand.
Felix doesn’t look up. His reading glasses sit low on his nose. “Hmm?”
“You ever smile? Like, ever?”
His eyes flick to me briefly, unimpressed. “You’re looking at my face all the time. You tell me.”
I grin. “I’m starting to think you don’t have the muscle memory for it. Should I be concerned?”
Felix snorts quietly, still not looking at me. “Maybe you should focus on your paper instead of diagnosing me.”
I sit back and stretch my arms over my head. “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t kill you to loosen up a little. You’d be even more handsome with a smile. Might even break a few hearts.”
He finally glances at me, his expression flat. “Are you done?”
“Not even close,” I say with a wink.
Felix sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Julian, I’m not one of your admirers. Go charm someone else.”
His words should sting, but they don’t. Instead, they only make me want to push further, to see if I can get past that wall he’s built around himself.
“But I don’t want to charm someone else,” I say, my voice dropping a little. “You’re the only one who interests me.”
For a second, something flickers in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or heat—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.
“What should interest you is your paper,” Felix says firmly, returning his attention to his laptop.
I use my foot to pull his chair closer to mine. “I’m too distracted,” I mumble in his ear.
My hand grazes his thigh.
Felix pauses, his eyes still locked on his computer screen. He exhales deeply but doesn’t respond, and I take the hint…for now.
But as I settle back into my chair, I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. Felix may think he’s shutting me down, but the way his jaw tightened when I got close tells me everything I need to know.
He’s not indifferent. He’s just resisting what he really wants.
And that’s fine. I can wait.
I tap my pen against the edge of the table, watching Felix pretend not to notice me watching him. He’s good at putting up walls, but I’ve spent enough time with him now to catch the subtle shifts—the way his shoulders tense when he’s trying too hard to act unaffected, the slight twitch in his brow when I get under his skin.
Felix’s phone lights up and he answers without waiting for a buzz. Who the fuck is he paying that much attention to?
“Hey, Mom.”
Immediately the jealousy building within me fizzles out.
Felix’s eyebrows suddenly crease with worry. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“Everything okay?” I whisper.
He ignores me as he gathers his stuff. “Okay, I’ll be there in thirty. I’ll have to bike over.”
“I’ll drive you,” I insist.
Felix pauses, a book halfway into his bag. Is that relief on his face? “Actually, my friend said he’ll drive me. Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance? Okay, okay. Bye.”
He hangs up and I scoop his bag and mine onto my shoulder, leading him to my car out front.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“A bookshelf fell on top of my mom. She says she’s fine, but…” His voice cracks.
“What’s your address?”
Ten minutes later we’re pulling up to a small blue house in suburbs. Felix fusses with his keys and runs into the house.
As soon as Felix opens the door, I hear a faint voice from inside.
“Felix, is that you? I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
Felix doesn’t waste a second. He’s already running down the hallway toward the sound of his mom’s voice. I follow close behind, stepping into a cozy living room that looks like it came straight out of a homey Pinterest board—crocheted throw blankets, stacks of well-loved books, and picture frames crowding every flat surface.
A small woman with cropped, graying black hair is pinned beneath a toppled bookcase, her face pale but calm. She meets Felix’s frantic gaze with a soft smile. “Really, I’m okay. Just a little stuck.”
Felix drops to his knees beside her, his hands fluttering uselessly as he assesses the situation. “Mom, why didn’t you call for help sooner? Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?”
“I told you, I’m fine,” she says, her tone patient but firm. “Just my wrist, I think. The books were more dramatic than the fall itself.”
I step in before Felix’s panic spirals further. “Let’s get this off her.”
Felix nods, and together, we brace ourselves against the bookcase. It’s heavier than it looks, but we manage to lift it enough for his mother to wiggle out. Felix immediately crouches beside her, inspecting her wrist like he’s suddenly a doctor.
“Does this hurt? What about this? Can you move it?”
“Felix, sweetheart, I’m fine,” she says again.
“Let me see,” I say, crouching beside them and gently moving her wrist, noting her winces of pain. “It’s sprained. We should wrap it to keep it stable.”
Felix looks up at me, his expression a mix of worry and disbelief. “You know how to do that?”
I shrug. “Basic first aid. Comes in handy.”
“See, Felix? He’s handy. You should keep this one around.” His mom chuckles softly. “I’m Annie.”
Felix blushes furiously, which is worth every second of hauling that heavy-ass bookcase.
I smirk. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Julian.”
“And a gentleman.” Annie laughs.
“Mom!”
I grab a roll of bandages from the first aid kit Felix pulls out of the kitchen. Settling beside Annie, I gently take her wrist in my hands. “This might hurt a little,” I warn.
“You’re already better than Felix,” she jokes, though her smile falters as I begin wrapping.
Felix glares at me. “Be careful.”
“I am,” I reply, keeping my movements deliberate and steady. When I finish, I sit back. “That should do it. Try not to move it too much, and ice it later.”
“Thank you, Julian,” Annie says warmly.
Felix is still hovering like an overprotective hen, adjusting the pillow behind her back and asking if she’s comfortable. Annie reaches up with her good hand to pat his cheek. “Felix, you’re sweet, but I’m okay. Sit down before you wear yourself out.”
We spend the afternoon in her living room, making sure she’s truly okay. Annie is a sharp, warm woman who makes me feel at home instantly. Felix clearly gets his big heart from her, and seeing him this way—so open and unguarded—is a side of him I don’t think many people get to see.
Eventually, Annie insists on serving us tea, despite Felix’s protests. She gives me a knowing look as Felix finally relaxes into the couch beside me, his leg pressed against mine.
“She’s really okay,” I say quietly.
He exhales deeply, leaning back. “I know. I just…I worry. She’s all by herself here.”
“She’s tough. Just like you.”
Felix snorts and shakes his head. “Tough isn’t the word I’d use for myself.”
“Then you don’t know yourself very well.”
He looks at me, his expression softening. “Thank you. For everything today.”
I lean closer, dropping my voice to a murmur. “Of course.”
Annie’s voice interrupts us from the kitchen. “Felix, don’t you dare let him leave before dinner!”
Felix laughs, and the sound is the lightest I’ve ever heard him make. “You’re staying,” he says, his eyes bright with something that makes my chest feel tight.
“Wouldn’t dream of leaving,” I reply.
The banter continues for another hour, the warmth of the room a stark contrast to the sharp edges of my usual life. But the moment is broken when my phone buzzes in my pocket and a message from Elijah lights up the screen.
The tension in my shoulders returns instantly, like a weight pressing down. I tuck my phone away, trying to mask my change in demeanor, but Felix is watching me too closely.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I lie as I stand and grab my jacket. “I just have something I need to take care of.”
Felix’s brow furrows, suspicion clouding his features. “Now?”
“It’s nothing serious,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Just some business I need to wrap up.”
“Business,” Felix repeats, standing too. His eyes narrow, the wall he puts up when he feels shut out rising quickly. “What kind of business?”
Annie looks between us, clearly picking up on the tension but staying silent.
“Felix,” I say quietly as I step closer to him. “It’s not something you need to worry about.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I sigh and glance at Annie, who’s pretending to be engrossed in her tea. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Caruso. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Call me Annie,” she says, her sharp eyes softening. “And thank you, Julian. You take care of my boy, you hear?”
“Always,” I promise, meaning it more than I probably should.
As I leave the cozy house, Felix follows me and shuts the door behind him.
“I should get going,” I say.
Felix looks at me, his brows knitting together. “Going where?”
“Work,” I reply smoothly.
His frown deepens. “You have a job?”
“Part-time,” I say, keeping my tone light.
Felix leans against the front door, trying to exude ease when I can see every inch of him is screaming tension. “What kind of job?”
I chuckle, zipping up my jacket. “The kind that pays.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly not buying it. “What do you actually do?”
Shit, now he wants to pay attention to me?
I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Family business. Can I buy you lunch tomorrow?”
He doesn’t look amused. “Trying to change the subject? That’s not suspicious at all.”
“Relax. I’m not cheating on you, baby.” I smirk, but my heart is hammering in my ears. “My family owns a few businesses in town, and I work at our sports store.”
His eyes narrow, clearly skeptical. “What do you do at the store?”
“Stock shelves, deal with customers, that kind of thing,” I say with a casual shrug. “Nothing exciting.”
“Convenient,” he says, his tone dry.
I lean into him, meeting his gaze with a smile. “Convenient’s my middle name.”
“Julian Convenient Greco. Has a nice ring to it.”
I laugh, straightening up. “Don’t miss me too much, counselor.”
As I walk away, I feel his eyes on my back, burning into me with that familiar mix of curiosity and suspicion. He’s too sharp for his own good, and the lie feels heavier than I expected.
I slip into my car and pull out my phone.
Elijah: Don’t keep Dad waiting. Be on time.
I let out a slow breath and shove my phone back into my pocket. Felix doesn’t need to know the truth—not about this.
Not yet.
???
The estate always feels too quiet, the kind of silence that creeps under your skin and sets your nerves on edge. It’s a sprawling mansion with marble floors, priceless art on the walls, and crystal chandeliers that seem to glow a little too brightly. On the surface, it’s a picture-perfect example of old-money opulence. Beneath it? The rot runs deep.
As I step into the study, my chest tightens. The room is dimly lit, the heavy scent of cigars mingling with the faint tang of aged leather. My father sits behind his oversized mahogany desk, his posture as rigid as ever. Elijah leans casually against the bar, a glass of scotch in hand, the faint smirk on his face already grating on my nerves.
“You’re late,” my father says without looking up, his voice like a blade slicing through the air.
“Had class,” I reply evenly.
Father glances at me, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Class,” he repeats, the word dripping with disdain.
“School is a convenience we allow you, Julian, not an excuse for insubordination.”
I grind my teeth as I step farther into the room.
“The Valmont operation is functional,” Elijah interjects, his tone smooth, as if this is a casual conversation over dinner. “But there’s untapped potential. Your connections on campus could help us expand—fraternities, student organizations, maybe even the faculty. They’re all ripe for the picking.”
I clench my fists, already seeing where this is headed.
Father leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “You have access we don’t, Julian. You could identify people to bring in discreetly. Individuals we can trust to move cash without drawing attention.”
“You want me to recruit?” I ask, my voice tight.
“No,” Father replies icily. “I want you to facilitate. You don’t need to make deals or handle money directly. You just need to identify the right people—those who can follow instructions without asking questions.”
I shake my head, the weight of his words sinking in. “I’m not doing that. I’m not dragging my school into this.”
Elijah snorts and takes a lazy sip of his drink. “Don’t be dramatic, Jules. This is the whole reason you’re in that school in the first place.”
“I thought it was to give our family a better image,” I snap.
My father’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening. “You seem to be under the impression that this is a discussion. It’s not. This family has given you everything—your education, your lifestyle, your future. It’s time you started pulling your weight.”
“I’ve been pulling my weight!” I snap, unable to hold back. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked, and now you want me to turn my school into a fucking crime scene?”
Father stands, moving with the calculated precision of a predator. “Watch your tone,” he warns, his voice deadly quiet.
The tension in the room is suffocating, but I don’t back down. “I won’t do it.”
The slap comes faster than I expect, sharp and stinging across my cheek. My head snaps to the side, but I stay on my feet.
My father steps closer, his expression eerily calm. “You seem to have forgotten who you’re speaking to.”
Before I can respond, his hand grips my arm and yanks me forward. His fist slams into my side—once, twice—each blow calculated to avoid leaving visible marks.
“Do you understand now?” he asks, his voice low and venomous in my ear.
I nod, swallowing hard against the bile rising in my throat.
“Good,” he says, releasing me. “You’ll do as you’re told. For your sake, I suggest you stop resisting.”
Elijah watches silently from the bar, his smirk replaced with something colder and more calculating.
I force myself to stand straight and ignore the throbbing ache in my ribs. “May I be excused?”
Father waves a dismissive hand. “Go. And remember, Julian, this family doesn’t tolerate weakness.”
I rush out of the study and limp to my childhood bedroom. I won’t be able to make it back to my apartment tonight. I collapse onto the bed, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. Every movement sends a fresh wave of pain through my side, but I can’t let myself fall apart. Not here.
The walls are the same as when I was a kid, decorated with posters of bands I don’t even listen to anymore and trophies from sports I don’t care about. It’s like stepping back into the life of a stranger—a version of me who didn’t have to carry this weight.
I pull out my phone, scrolling absently until I land on a photo of Felix and me. It’s from a few weeks ago, taken at the campus coffee shop. He wasn’t even smiling, just staring at the camera like he couldn’t be bothered, but his expression makes me laugh every time I see it. I trace my thumb over his face, the conflict in my chest almost too much to bear.
Felix has no idea what he’s gotten himself into by being around me. I should keep him at arm’s length, but he’s relentless, always challenging me, never giving me an inch. It’s infuriating and addictive all at once. But tonight’s meeting was a reminder of the lines I can’t cross. My family doesn’t just destroy lives—they devour them whole. And if they ever find out about Felix, they’ll see him as a weakness to exploit, a pawn in their never-ending game.
I can’t let that happen.
I set the phone down and scrub my hands over my face. Staying away from Felix should be the easiest thing in the world. It’s the logical choice, the safe choice.
But logic has never been my strong suit when it comes to him.
I glance back at the photo one last time before locking my phone and shoving it into my pocket.
For his sake, I need to let him go. But for mine? I don’t know if I can.
The soft knock on my door is unexpected. I debate ignoring it, but the knock comes again, firmer this time.
“Jules, it’s me,” Elijah says, his voice muffled through the thick wood.
I hesitate, then force myself upright with a wince. “Come in.”
Elijah steps inside and closes the door behind him. His usual cocky smirk is absent, replaced by something harder to read. He looks at me, his eyes flicking to where I clutch my side, and for a moment, there’s something almost like concern on his face.
“He really did a number on you, huh?” he says, leaning against the doorframe.
I shrug, wincing at the movement. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Elijah scoffs as he runs a hand through his hair. “That’s not the point, Julian. You could’ve avoided it.”
“Yeah? How?” I snap, the words sharper than I intended. “By doing everything he asks? By turning my school into his personal playground?”
Elijah narrows his eyes, his expression hardening. “You think you’re better than the rest of us, is that it?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant.” He steps closer, his voice low and intense. “You’re so caught up in this self-righteous act, like you’re above the family business. Newsflash, Jules: you’re not. None of us are.”
I glare at him, my jaw tightening. “It’s not about being above anything. I’m not dragging innocent people into this mess, Elijah. I’m not ruining lives just because Father snaps his fingers.”
Elijah exhales sharply and drags a hand down his face. “Do you think I like this? Do you think I enjoy watching him knock you around? Because I don’t.”
“Then stop defending him.”
“I’m not defending him,” Elijah snaps, his frustration spilling over. “I’m trying to protect you. You keep pushing him, and he’s only going to push back harder. You know how he is, Julian. He doesn’t care how much you bleed as long as you fall in line.”
I look away, my gaze fixed on the worn wooden floor.
“You think this is easy for me?” Elijah continues, his tone softer now. “You think I don’t want to tell him to shove it? But we don’t have that luxury. Not you, not me. You’ve got a good thing going at that school. Don’t screw it up by being stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn,” I mutter. “I’m just...I can’t do it, E. I can’t look Felix in the eye knowing I’ve dragged him into this shit.”
“Felix?” Elijah’s brows lift, a flicker of surprise breaking through his frustration. “This is about him?”
“It’s not just about him,” I say quickly, but the lie tastes bitter. “It’s about doing something that doesn’t leave a trail of destruction behind.”
Elijah shakes his head, letting out a low laugh that lacks humor. “You really think you can keep everything separate? Your school, your friends, your boyfriend?—”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I cut in.
“Whatever he is,” Elijah says, waving a hand. “You think you can keep him safe by playing this game of defiance? Dad’s not going to stop, Jules. The longer you fight, the worse it’s going to get—for you and for him.”
I don’t respond. What can I say? He’s right. But giving in feels like something I’d never come back from.
Elijah sighs and runs a hand through his hair again. “Look, I don’t want to see you get hurt. But I don’t get why you’re making this so hard on yourself. You think Felix would thank you for it? Or anyone else, for that matter?”
“I don’t care if they thank me,” I say quietly. “I just care that they don’t have to deal with this...this life.”
Elijah studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shakes his head, pushing off the doorframe.
“You’re a real idiot, you know that?” he says, though there’s no malice in his tone.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I know.”
He lingers for a second longer, then turns and walks out, leaving me alone with the ache in my ribs and the weight pressing down on my chest.