Chapter 8
Julien
I gave two sharp knocks, but she won’t even answer. After the way she stormed out yesterday, I wouldn’t blame her. A cold shoulder would be well within her right. But a beat later, I hear it.
“Come in.”
Cool. Even. Like I hadn’t just watched her unravel and rebuild herself in the span of a breath. I step inside, expecting sterile. Steel gray, glass, impersonal vibes. A workspace meant to keep people at a distance. But no, this is Serena. Of course, it isn’t what I expected. She’s the kind of woman who bends rules and rewrites the manual, then dares you to keep up. The office is clean but curated. It has sleek lines, soft light, and every detail is intentional. It feels expensive without trying too hard. It is feminine but not delicate. It’s powerful without shouting. And then there’s her. Sitting behind a desk awash in pinks and golds, she looks like power dressed in silk. Hair pulled back like she means business. Lips slightly pursed, not from irritation, but calculation. Eyes tracking me like I’m a problem she already knows how to solve. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she belonged on the cover of a magazine. Something glossy and intimidating. The Woman Who Outsold You, Outpaced You, and Did It All in Heels. And here I am, just a man trying not to stare too long. Too late.
She’s got her hair down today, soft curls cascading over her shoulders, like she let it out of the tight bun she’d worn yesterday just to remind the world she could be both ruthless and effortlessly beautiful. Her blouse is blue pinstripes buttoned up with pearls resting at the collar and is perfectly tailored, hugging curves I have no business noticing.
She finally looks up from whatever document she’s reviewing, and our eyes meet. There’s no warmth there. No humor. Just sharp, assessing silence.
I moved farther into the office, glancing at her desk. It’s obnoxiously pink. Aggressively pink. Every office supply I’ve ever seen exists here in some version of rose, blush, or bubblegum. I reach for a small heart-shaped container of pink paperclips, rolling them between my fingers, the soft rattle of metal filling the silence.
I smirk, shaking the container. “So, let me guess, pink’s your favorite color?”
Serena lifts a brow, unimpressed. “You cracked the code, Sherlock.”
I chuckle, setting the paperclips down, but my amusement is short-lived. Because I didn’t come here to make small talk about her questionable taste in office supplies.
I came here for answers.
And judging by the way she’s watching me now, her chin lifted, arms crossed, completely unbothered, she knows it too.
So, that’s where we’re at, I’m the enemy. I did not know my mother would pull a stunt like that. I was supposed to meet her at her office meeting, get introduced to her staff, and check out her office, but then she goes and makes this wild-ass announcement. Now, she’s got my baby here fuming out her ears.
“Enjoying the new title of CEO?” Her words dripped with sarcasm, and I knew better than to take the bait. I don’t know her well enough, but a blind man could see she was itching for a fight, and her tone was irritated.
I hesitated, unsure of how to approach her. “I just wanted to check on you,” I said tentatively. “You seemed upset yesterday.”
Her eyes narrowed, the warmth in them cooling into steel. “Upset is an understatement.” Her voice was clipped, precise. “Your mother has a gift for pissing me off.”
She looked up at me then, and damn anger looked good on her. Those brown eyes sparkled like fire catching glass, lips tight, jaw clenched. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t craved that fire.
“That’s between you and her,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Don’t make it about us.”
She pushed back from her desk, fast. “There is no you and me, Julien.”
I stepped in, closing the space. Not enough to intimidate, but enough to be felt.
“Then let me give you some advice.” I stepped into her space, close enough to see the way her pulse jumped at her throat. “Stop letting her see she’s getting to you.”
She blinked, just once.
“You know your worth, Serena. So show it. Walk into that boardroom like your name’s already on the damn building. Remind them they’d be lost without you.”
She crossed her arms, but the fight was starting to loosen in her shoulders. Just a little. She was listening.
“And how exactly do you suggest I do that?” she asked, her tone lighter now, but still edged.
I let a slow smile pull at my lips. “You already know how. You just forgot for a second.”
Her eyes narrowed again, but this time with curiosity. Like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to punch me out or pull me closer.
“Careful,” she murmured, that mouth just barely tilting into a smirk. “You’re starting to sound like you believe in me.”
“I already do.”
“And of course there’s an us.” I leaned in, close enough to watch her pupils dilate. “You just snuck out of my bed before we could figure it out.”
Her lips parted, but instead of words, her palms pressed against my chest, not shoving, just pausing. “No strings, no complications. Remember?”
Her voice was ice. But I heard it—the fracture beneath, the hitch in her breath when my fingers brushed her waist.
“So you don’t want me as much as I want you right now?” My thumb traced the frantic pulse at her wrist.
“No.” Too fast. Too sharp. A lie so thin I could taste it.
I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Liar.”
She exhaled, and for a second, I thought she’d cave. Then her spine straightened, that familiar fire reigniting. “I don’t sleep with people I work with.” A beat. “And once is usually more than enough.”
The jab landed, but her body betrayed her—the flush on her neck, the way her thighs pressed together. I crowded her against the desk, my voice a graveled whisper. “Prove it.”
Her breath hitched. “Julien—”
“Tell me you’ve forgotten.” My knee nudged between hers, and she gasped. “Tell me you don’t ache.”
Her fingers dug into my biceps, clinging and pushing. “This is not helping.”
“Isn’t it?” I brushed my lips over her temple, felt her tremble. “You’re thinking about it now. Just like I knew you would.”
A shudder ran through her.
“…You’re insufferable.” But her grip loosened, her forehead dropping to my shoulder. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel her surrender.
I grinned against her hair. “But you like it.”
She didn’t deny it.
I can’t help the grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. She’s trying to sell this lie, but her body is singing different tune.
“Spread those pretty thighs and show me.”
Her lips parted, just slightly, a breath catching at the back of her throat like she wasn’t sure if she was going to speak or surrender. Her fingers clutched the edge of the desk behind her, steadying herself. Like she knew one more move from me might undo her completely.
Her eyes lifted to mine, wide and burning with questions she didn’t ask.
We were standing too close. Breathing the same air and caught in a moment that had no business happening here, but I didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
“We’re in my office,” she whispered, like she was reminded herself more than me.
Her voice was unraveling. Breathless and thin, every rise of her chest gave her away.
Her gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered. That was the green light. The open door. The whispered don’t stop she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud.
And I wasn’t about to walk away from it.
She could lie with words. But her body? Her body remembered everything.
I caged her against the desk, one hand sliding into her hair, tilting her face up. “Then you should’ve locked the door.”
Our lips were a breath apart. Her pulse hammered against my thumb where it pressed to her throat. I waited—let her feel it—the tension coiling tighter, hotter, until the air between us was pure static.
Then she snapped.
Her fingers fisted my shirt, yanking me down as she surged up, and—
Fire.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a reckoning. Her mouth was desperate under mine, teeth clashing, tongues tangling like they’d been starving for this. She moaned, the sound vibrating through me, and I swallowed it whole, backing her into the desk until the files scattered.
Every rational thought burned away. There was only this and her nails scoring my shoulders, my hand gripping her thigh to hike her leg around my hip, the obscene wet sound of our mouths refusing to part.
When I finally tore away, her lips were swollen, her eyes wild. “Still think once was enough?” I rasped.
Her answer was to drag me back in.
But this time, it wasn’t frantic. It was sure and focused.
She kissed me like she meant to forget where we were, who we were pretending to be, and everything that said it wasn’t a good idea.
Her mouth hit mine like a warning and a promise. Raw, wild, and full of want. Like she’d been trying not to feel this for too damn long and finally gave up the fight.
So, I let her.
Let her kiss me like she was unraveling. Let her pour all that heat, all that fight into me like it was the only thing keeping her from breaking. Let her take what she needed even if it meant I wouldn’t walk away from this the same.
Then came the breath, sharp and broken.
She pressed her forehead on my jaw, her grip still tight on my shirt like I was the only solid thing she could hold onto. Her body shook, a little. Enough to tell me this wasn’t just about lust. This was something deeper and buried.
I didn’t speak. Didn’t move, except to slide my hand up her back, enough to steady her. To let her know I was there. Her heartbeat thudded against mine, wild and desperate. Her breath skimmed the side of my neck… warm, uneven, like a secret trying to escape.
And then she said it.
“I hate how much I want you,” she whispered. Her voice hoarse and honest.
I dropped my mouth to her hairline and inhaled. Jasmine, warmth, and something soft I hadn’t meant to crave but somehow couldn’t stop.
“Then hate me,” I murmured. “Just give me this.”
Her hands moved to my shoulders, holding on. No push, no pull. Just… us.
“Still think once was enough?” I asked, my voice low, rough with what she did to me.
She didn’t answer right away. Just let out a breath. Half a laugh, half a sigh, and shook her head against me.
There she is.
So, she’s not as unaffected as she pretends to be. Not even close.
Serena loves an excuse to run, And there’s no running from me.
Just when I had her exactly where I wanted her, close enough to see the truth in her eyes, to push her past that line she swore she’d never cross, the door opened.
“Hey, Serena, I’ve got—”
The guy froze mid-step, mid-sentence, mid-thought. Whatever he’d walked in here for? Gone. His eyes darted back and forth between us, searching for the missing pieces of an exciting puzzle.
Serena jumped back from me like I’d burned her, hands smoothing her skirt, flustered. I just stood there, arms crossed, trying to block his view.
“Steven,” she snapped, her voice a razor cutting through the air. “Since when do employees enter my office door without knocking?”
“Girl, like an hour ago.”
“Well, it’s not appropriate; you see a closed door. You should knock.”
The guy looked like he was on the verge of bursting into laughter. His brows jumped as if trying to hold his composure. He eyed me up and down, a satisfied curve playing at his lips.
Did he just…
He clutched a stack of papers to his chest with a look of being thoroughly entertained on his face. “I—I didn’t realize…” he stammered, his eyes dancing between us. “I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” she cut him off sharply, her chin lifting, her posture snapped back into boss mode even as her flushed cheeks betrayed her. “Next time, knock.”
I bit back a grin, watching her handle it. Despite being shaken by me, she projected an image of fierce control, her fiery demeanor captivating even if it was a facade.
Steven hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Then, as if deciding against whatever comeback was on the tip of his tongue, he placed the stack of files on the nearest table with exaggerated care. His movements were stiff now, almost defiant. “Sorry about that, Ms. Hayes” he said flatly, the playful tone gone. “Maybe use the lock next time.” He said, the door clicking shut behind him.
The silence that followed was heavy, stretching across the room like a taut wire ready to snap.
Serena didn’t look at me right away. She started pacing instead, her heels clicking against the floor as she muttered something. Embarrassment was written all over her movements, the shakiness of her breath the way her hands fidgeted at her sides.
Spinning around to point a finger at me, her voice sharp and cutting, “This is exactly why I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
I leaned back against her desk, crossing my arms, my gaze steady on hers. “Funny. You didn’t seem too worried about business two minutes ago.”
Her eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Are you insane? This could spread like wildfire through the office. It’s inappropriate.”
“It’s not anyone’s business what we have going on,” I countered, my tone calm but firm.
Her lips parted, her eyes narrowing as if she was about to unleash some scathing comeback. But instead, she just stared at me, her chest rising and falling like she was trying to catch her breath, her lips still swollen from our kiss. She looked flustered, yes, but there was something else—something raw and vulnerable just beneath the surface.
“It doesn’t matter to you; you’ve only been here for five minutes. My employees respect me, and I respect them and this work environment. That can’t happen again.”
I closed the space between us, my movements slow and deliberate. She tensed as I stepped closer, her breath hitching when I stopped inches away. Her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her neck, and I knew I had her.
“You can keep fighting it, Serena,” I said, my voice low and steady, the words a deliberate challenge. “But we both know it’s still there.”
“And this,” she said, her tone biting but her voice wavering just enough to give her away, “is why I know you’re not qualified to be CEO.”
Her words were sharp, but her body was told a different story. She wanted this as much as I did. Maybe more.
“You’re right,” I said, tilting my head, letting my eyes sweep over her in a slow, deliberate study. “Maybe I’m not qualified, but it looks like me sitting in this CEO spot is something you want bad. And I love a good negotiation.”
Her brows knitted together, confusion and suspicion flickering in her eyes. “Negotiation? What are you up to?”
“If I step down from being CEO, what would I get in exchange?”
Her breath caught, and for a split second, the room felt charged, the air between us crackling like static. She wanted to pull away; I could see it in the way her fingers twitched, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. The pull between us was too strong.
Leaning in just enough to feel the heat of her skin, I let my voice drop to a whisper. “Next time, lock the door. Unless you want another audience.”
I stepped back, giving her space, but not without letting my eyes linger on her one last time. The flush in her cheeks. The way her lips pressed together like she was holding back words she didn’t trust herself to say. The tension in her body, coiled tight as a spring.
I was just about to head out of her office when the edge of my hand brushed against a folder.
It’s half-open, papers spilling out like they’ve been rifled through in a hurry. Normally, I wouldn’t care. But a name printed in bold at the top catches my eye: Echelon Ventures, LLC.
Why was that company name so familiar?
I pause, frowning. I glance down at the folder’s contents—columns of numbers, account balances, and transactions. My eyes zone in on a number, $200,000 listed under “consulting fees,” which makes my stomach tighten. It’s vague—too vague.
“What’s this?” I asked, picking up the folder.
Serena’s head snaps up, her eyes narrowing in that way that told me she’s caught off guard. “Company projections,” she said quickly, reaching for it. “Just something I’m reviewing.”
I don’t let go right away, holding her gaze instead. She’s good—too good. The smile on her lips is practiced, smooth as silk, but the way her fingers twitch against the desk gives her away.
“Projections?” I flip one of the pages back, trying quickly to scan it.
“Julien,” she said, flipping it shut, her voice calm but carrying an edge. It’s nothing. A few accounts I handle personally. Nothing for you to worry about.” She grabs hold of the folder.
I let the folder go, watching as she slid it to the far end of her desk. “I handle it personally” doesn’t sit right. Why handle it so personally when she has a revenue guy in office?
Her gaze flickers back to mine, unreadable now, but the tension in her shoulders hasn’t eased. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s nervous.
“You’ve got a lot of questions for someone who wasn’t supposed to be here.” she said, her tone teasing but her smiled not reaching her eyes.
“Just trying to get up to speed,” I replied, keeping my tone light, even though my thoughts are anything but. “I wouldn’t want to miss anything important.”
“Don’t worry,” she said smoothly, leaning back in her chair like the conversation’s over. “I’ve got it all under control.”
I nod, pushing away from the desk, but the folder—and the unease it stirs in me—sticks in my mind. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Serena Harris, it’s that she doesn’t leave loose ends. So what the hell is she hiding?
As I walk out, the image of those numbers sticks with me, the name Echelon Ventures, LLC practically burned into my brain. Something about it feels… wrong. And I plan to find out exactly why.
???
The moment I left Serena’s office, I couldn’t shake the name.
Echelon Ventures, LLC.
It clung to me like a whisper I wasn’t supposed to hear. It wasn’t loud. Wasn’t flashy. But it was there… in bold, black ink at the top of her ledger, right before she shut that folder like she knew I’d seen too much.
Back in my office, I pulled up the name, hoping for answers.
Instead, I got the digital equivalent of a shrug.
No website. No board of directors. No elevator pitch in bold font. Just a barren page with vague promises—“Innovative investments.” “Strategic growth partnerships.” No names. No faces. Just a PO Box and a burner email.
That was my first red flag.
I leaned back in my chair, running a hand down my jaw. Serena didn’t strike me as the type to hand over money without receipts. But that ledger told a different story—clean monthly payments, neat round numbers, and no paper trail to back them up.
A quarter million dollars in consultant fees? With no deliverables, no contracts?
Nah. Something wasn’t adding up.
I opened a spreadsheet and started piecing together what I remembered. Just a glance—but the numbers stuck. Not because they were loud, but because they were too quiet. Too perfect. Like someone expected them to disappear into the background.
And I couldn’t let that slide.
I reached for my phone, scrolling past a dozen names before landing on the one that mattered.
Kam Barkley.
He answered on the second ring. “Julien. Thought you forgot about me.”
“I need eyes on something,” I said. “Discreetly.”
“Damn. You called me for work? Must be serious.”
I didn’t laughed. “It is.”
Kam wasn’t just a forensic accountant. He was the kind of man who knew how to make paper talk. We’d worked together back when I was still wearing the Brooks name with pride, before my father handed everything I built to someone else. Kam was the guy I called when I needed answers no one wanted to give.
“Echelon Ventures, LLC,” I said. “Find out who owns it, who they’re moving money for, and what they’re covering up.”
There was a pause. Then a low whistle. “You already suspect something?”
I stared out the window, the skyline glowing like nothing could touch it. Atlanta always looked clean from this high up. But I knew better. “Yeah. I suspect everything.”
“Text me what you got,” he said. “I’ll dig.”
I ended the call and sat there in the silence, elbows on my knees, letting the weight of it settle.
I wanted to trust her.
Hell, part of me already did—more than I should.
But the other part? The part that had been burned before? It couldn’t ignore what I saw.
And if Serena’s mixed up in something, whether she knows it or not, I need to find out.
Because if this trail leads where I think it does, and one kiss won’t be enough to fix it.
There was a soft knock on the door.
“Julien, you got a minute?”
My mother stood in the doorway, her usual poised exterior slightly off-kilter. The subtle tension in her shoulders wasn’t something most people would catch, but I’d been reading her since I was old enough to understand that love in our house was doled out in expectations, not affection.
I sat up straighter, closing my laptop with deliberate calm. “For you? Always.”
She stepped in, her smiled warm but not quite reaching her eyes. Her gaze lingered on the closed laptop like she wanted to ask what I was doing, but decided against it.
“How do you like your new office?” she asked, glancing around like she hadn’t hand-picked every inch of this place herself.
“It’s nice,” I said. “Big desk. Comfortable chair. Window view.”
“It could use a little personality.”
“Never been much for decorating.”
Her smile tightened. “You adjusting okay?”
“To the office? Sure.”
She walked further in, smoothing her skirt before perching on the edge of one of the guest chairs. “And Serena? How are things between the two of you?”
There it was.
“She’s smart. Capable. Seems like she runs a tight ship.”
“That’s it?” Her brow arched. “Because from what I observed during the meeting, there’s tension, and not the productive kind.”
“You invited me here to talk about office politics?”
She didn’t answered right away. She looked at me for a long moment, her expression softening. “No. I asked you to come here because I thought we could reconnect.”
I leaned forward slightly, watching her closely. “Reconnect… or keep tabs?”
That made her blink.
“Because you said you had answers for me. About the past. About why you left. But so far, all you’ve given me is a title and a keycard.”
Her mouth parted like she wanted to protest, but she stopped herself. Her spine straightened, shoulders resetting.
“This transition is complicated, Julien. More than you know.”
“Then help me understand. Why am I really here?”
She exhaled slowly, then leaned in, lowering her voice. “Because I need someone I trust in that office. And right now, I’m not sure Serena’s who she says she is.”
I frowned. “You don’t trust her?”
“I trust her to do the job. But I don’t trust everyone around her. Something’s off. And I need someone who won’t be afraid to look past loyalty and see the truth.”
So that’s what this was. I wasn’t just here to reconnect. I was here to watch. To monitor.
“You want me to spy on her.”
“I want you to observe. Report back if something doesn’t make sense. You’re sharp, Julien. You see things most people don’t.”
I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight. “So that’s why I’m here.”
She stood, smoothing the front of her blazer. “You’re here because you’re a Brooks. Because I need you.”
“And what happens if I find something?”
Her pause told me more than any answer could.
She turned to leave but stopped at the door. “Try to keep it professional with Serena. You’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
The door closed behind her, and I stared at it for a long moment.
Professional? Sure.
But after last night? After what I saw in her office?
This wasn’t just about business anymore.
I looked back at the laptop.
If my mother wanted the truth, she was going to get it. But she might not like what I uncover about Serena, or about herself.
Because now I was watching everyone.