Chapter 15
Julien
I didn't bother with a suit.
This wasn't business, it was personal. The office was just a stage, where Serena might still feel some semblance of control before I dismantled it piece by piece.
She walked in like she'd dressed for war in skintight jeans that hugged every dangerous curve, a V-neck top dipping low enough to test my self-control. Flat shoes that somehow looked sinful on her, probably because everything about Serena turned functional into foreplay. Her hair fell in a sleek curtain, framing glossed lips I'd dreamed about tasting for months.
Jesus.
Even now, knowing what I knew, my body reacted like she'd pressed a brand to my skin. She dropped into the chair across me, all coiled grace and sharp edges. The way she crossed her legs made the denim pull tight across her thighs. When she leaned forward, elbows on the table, the movement pushed her breasts together in a way that should've been illegal.
"What do you want, Julien?" Her voice was ice, but her pink-tipped fingers tapping the table betrayed her. That glossy mouth pursed in challenge. "I have plans."
I'd spent twenty-four hours digesting Kameron's revelations. Twenty-four hours replaying every interaction, every lie, every moment I'd been too blinded by lust to see the truth.
My smile cut like a blade. “I'll try not to steal too much of your time.” She didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. She sat there as if her conscience was clean, like she hadn’t gutted this company she claimed to love and fed it to the wolves. “You’ve been busy,” I said, my voice low. The way a match burns right before the flare.
She didn’t respond.
I leaned forward, close enough to smell her. “How long, Serena?” My gaze stayed locked on hers. “How long have you been bleeding this company dry?”
She tilted her head, her expression unreadable, but I recognized that stillness. The kind you wear when you’ve already braced for impact and are just hoping the wreck won’t be fatal.
But I saw it.
The flicker behind her eyes.
That second of hesitation, she tried to bury beneath all that polish.
“You covered your tracks,” I said. “Fake vendors. Ghost transfers. A charity or two that never saw a damn dime.”
Still, she said nothing.
“But laundering money?” I added, voice dropping lower. “For the damn mob?”
Her fingers flexed around the arm of her chair.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
I slid the folder across the table.
It landed with a soft sound but was heavy in weight.
“Shell companies. Offshore accounts. Every damn signature traced back to you.”
Her lips parted like she might finally speak.
“Tell me everything about you isn't a lie. That this company you painted as your pride and joy wasn't just a front while you washed blood off your books.”
I sat back.
The heat rising in my chest wasn’t just anger.
It was grief.
Grief for every version of her I’d believed in.
“I defended you,” I said. “My mother had her doubts about you, and I choose to see things differently.”
My jaw tightened. My hands curled into fists on the table.
I let the silence say the rest.
Her voice came soft. “I never wanted you involved.”
I laughed. One sharp, bitter breath.
“Don’t lie to me now. You built this.”
She looked away.
And in that moment, I saw her.
Not the boss.
Not the strategist.
Not even the liar.
Just the woman trying to survive a storm she couldn’t outrun.
“You’re not just cleaning for them,” I said. “You’re tied to them. Owned by them.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine. There was something in them now. Panic. Or maybe regret.
I stood.
“Tell me everything. Right now.”
The words came out flat. Cold.
“Or I take this to the board, and you lose more than your job. You lose your protection.”
She didn’t flinch. But her silence cracked under the weight of everything we weren’t saying.
And that’s when it hit me.
She was scared. The worst part was that I still wanted to protect her.
Even now.
Even after all of it.
“I owe them money,” she said, her voice low. “I’m in over my head with debt. They told me I could repay it by using the company to clean their money.”
I didn’t move. My voice stayed steady, though my thoughts spun like tires on wet pavement.
“Does my mother know?”
Serena shook her head. “No.”
She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting.
“She thinks I went to them for an investment—had no idea who they were. What they’re tied to.”
Her breath caught, then released like she’d finally peeled off a mask.
“But I knew,” she said. Like it hurt to admit out loud. “I thought I could fix two things at once,” she continued. “Help a friend… and survive.”
I stared at her, searching for the person I thought I knew.
“How are you helping her?” I asked.
“I took out a loan,” she said. “A second one, on top of what I already owed. To jumpstart us. Get us off the ground.” She exhaled shakily, and her voice cracked just slightly. “I was trying to build something that could free us both.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.
“I’m going to fix it, Julien,” she whispered. “I just need time.”
“Are you going to tell her?” she asked, finally looking up, but her expression was guarded, like she already suspected the answer.
“No,” I said simply, watching her eyes widen in shock.
“Why?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, laced with disbelief.
I didn’t answer right away, just held her gaze until she shifted uncomfortably, her attention drifting back to her hands. Her fingers picked nervously at her nails, betraying the calm she was trying to hold onto.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment, her voice so soft it was almost a prayer. “I don’t know how to repay—”
“Oh, you will.” My words cut through hers like a blade, silencing whatever gratitude she thought she owed me. “You’ll repay me, not just for my silence, but for the debt I paid in full.”
Her head snapped up, her lips parting as if to protest, but nothing came out. The weight of my words settled between us, heavy and immovable. She looked at me then, really looked at me, and I knew she understood. This wasn’t a favor. This was a transaction.
And the price was hers to pay.
“I already had a repayment plan in place,” she said, her words rushed but firm. “I can pay you back; it’ll just take some—”
“Keep your money.” My tone was deliberate, cutting through her like a blade. “That’s not what I want.”
Her brows knit together, the crease deepening as her mouth clamped shut. Confusion flickered in her brown eyes, soft and searching, as if she was trying to piece together a puzzle she hadn’t expected to solve. She was at a loss for words for the first time, and watching her like this, off-balance, unsure, felt like a win I hadn’t anticipated.
Good.
“This is insane! Is this a joke?” Her voice cut through the room, sharp and unapologetic, as she dared me to play with her intelligence.
“It’s no joke, Serena.” I leaned back, keeping my tone calm and deliberate. “You had a problem, and I can solve it. Now, I’m laying down my terms. You can take it or deal with the consequences. The choice is yours.”
She dragged her hands up her forehead, fingers pressing into her temples like she was trying to snatch clarity out of thin air. “What do you want then? If it’s not money, what’s the repayment?”
I let the silence sit heavy between us, watching her frustration twist into something closer to dread. When I finally spoke, my voice was low, steady. “Your body, Serena. However, whenever I want it.”
Her laugh came out fast and sharp, brittle like cracked glass. Not an ounce of humor in it, just raw disbelief with a dash of fury simmering underneath. Her eyes locked on mine, heat pouring off her glare, and for a second, I thought she might throw something to see how I’d react.
The tension between us pulled tighter, wound so thick you could feel it pressing into the air. I didn’t flinch. If anything, I leaned into it. Because one thing I knew? Serena Harris didn’t back down easily.
But then again, neither did I.
I leaned back in her chair, letting the silence settle between us.
Half out of habit, my eyes drifted until they landed on a small container of pink paperclips tucked neatly beside her monitor. I don’t know why they caught me. Maybe because they matched her nails, soft, feminine, unapologetically bold in that way only Serena could pull off.
Or maybe because they were still perfectly aligned, like her, even in the middle of all this mess. She held onto softness like a lifeline. She wrapped herself in it while the world kept asking her to be harder, colder, and less.
Right then, staring at those damn paperclips, something sparked in my chest.
Something that felt a little too much like hope.
My gaze wandered, lingering on the fitted top she wore. My mind wandered, unbidden, to what she might have on underneath. Did her lingerie match her nails today? Her gaze flickered to mine, sharp and watchful, like she was trying to figure out what I was thinking.
Without a word, I stood and reached for the container, plucking a single paperclip from inside. Serena’s eyes followed every move, her intensity fueling the slow, deliberate way I toyed with the clip between my fingers.
I set it down flat on her desk and slid it toward her, my movements intentional. I didn’t speak immediately, letting the weight of the gesture hang between us. Her lips parted, confusion flashing in her eyes as she stared at the paperclip like it held the answer to an unspoken question.
Finally, I broke the silence, my voice low. “You’ll get one whenever you give me exactly what I need. Morning, noon, and night.”
Her brows shot up, her expression shifting between disbelief and indignation, but I didn’t flinch. Leaning closer, my tone soft but firm, I emptied the glass container, pink paperclips scattered like confetti across her desk. “Once this is over, Serena, you’ll have an entire box, your debts paid, and the CEO title, yours.”
I straightened, watching her process my words.
If she thought this game would be simple, she had no idea what she’d just signed up for.
Sneak Peak of Book 2 on the next page. Thank you for reading!