Chapter Six #2
Julian shot me a look that might have seemed stern to the others, but I caught the hint of amusement in his eyes. "Connor exaggerates."
"I doubt it," Jake laughed. "I've known you since university, Julian. You once created a study schedule that accounted for how long it would take to walk between classes, including bathroom breaks."
"Sounds exactly like him," I agreed, settling into a chair close enough to Julian that our proximity felt natural but not overly demonstrative.
The meeting proceeded, with Michael occasionally glancing at his phone and Jake discussing something about chip manufacturing delays that went completely over my head. I nodded at appropriate intervals, but mostly I watched Julian.
In business mode, he was a different creature entirely—sharp, focused, commanding even from his wheelchair.
His hands moved with precise gestures as he explained something about supply chains, and I found myself remembering those same hands on my body last night, equally precise but with an entirely different purpose.
Several times during the meeting, I caught Julian's focus slipping when I shifted in my seat or reached for my water. His eyes would track the movement for a fraction of a second before snapping back to the business at hand.
Each time, a small thrill ran through me at the knowledge that I could distract him even in his most professional setting.
After what felt like hours but was probably only forty-five minutes, the meeting concluded. Whatever urgent matter had brought them here had been resolved with Julian's usual efficiency.
"Well, this has been illuminating," Jake said as he stood, extending his hand first to Julian and then to me. "Both professionally and personally. Connor, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to hearing how you two met—the full story, not whatever sanitized version Julian has prepared."
I grinned at him, liking his directness despite myself. "It's a tale worth hearing."
"I'm sure," Jake replied, his eyes twinkling with genuine amusement. "Julian doesn't do anything without careful consideration, so you must be quite special."
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, unsure how to respond to that. Thankfully, Michael chose that moment to step forward, drawing Jake toward the elevator with a murmured comment about their next appointment.
I walked with Julian to see them out, maintaining the picture of domestic harmony while my mind raced with the implications of what had just happened. I'd been introduced as Julian's husband—not his companion, not his partner, but his husband—to people who clearly mattered in his world.
After they left, Julian turned to me in the marble-floored foyer, his expression unreadable. "Let's go out for lunch."
I blinked in surprise. "What about your color-coded schedule?"
"Some things are worth rearranging it for," he replied, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.
We stood facing each other in the expansive foyer, the air between us charged with unspoken promises. I stepped forward to stand beside his wheelchair, the simple act of walking toward the private elevator suddenly laden with meaning beyond simple movement.
Every glance we exchanged sketched new possibilities between us, each more tempting than the last.
* * * *
Later that day, I wandered through Julian's high-ceilinged study, running my fingers along the spines of leather-bound books that probably cost more than my entire college textbook collection.
After our lunch—a surprisingly casual affair at a tucked-away restaurant where Julian was treated like royalty, but insisted we sit at a normal table rather than some VIP section—we'd returned to the penthouse with the afternoon stretching before us.
Julian had settled behind his mahogany desk, wheelchair positioned perfectly as he returned to CEO mode, while I explored his sanctuary with the curious freedom of someone who now, technically, lived here.
"Some of these books look like they've never been opened," I observed, pulling out a pristine first edition of something that probably belonged in a museum.
Julian glanced up from his laptop. "The ones on the top three shelves are investments. The ones I actually read are within reach."
Made sense. Even Julian Montgomery couldn't defy gravity.
I moved to a display case filled with what looked like ancient artifacts. "Is this legal to own?"
"Perfectly," Julian replied without looking up. "Though the British Museum has made several generous offers for that particular piece."
Of course they have.
I was about to ask if there was anything in this penthouse that didn't cost more than my entire existence when Julian's phone buzzed. He checked the screen, his expression neutral as he answered.
"Montgomery." His voice was all business, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes as he listened to whoever was on the other end.
I continued my exploration, trying not to eavesdrop too obviously. The study was a perfect reflection of Julian himself—elegant, expensive, and meticulously organized. Even the pens on his desk were arranged by size and color.
"When exactly?" Julian's tone had shifted, a new tension entering his voice that made me turn. "And you're certain they were asking specifically about Connor Matthews, not Connor Montgomery?"
My heart skipped at the mention of my former name. Julian's expression had darkened, jaw clenching in a way I was starting to recognize as his tell when something upset him.
"No, that's all I need to know for now. Increase surveillance at all his previous locations. Yes. Keep me informed." He ended the call, setting the phone down with deliberate care that seemed more dangerous than if he'd thrown it.
"What was that about?" I asked, moving closer to his desk.
Julian's eyes met mine, his gaze calculating as if deciding how much to share. "Someone has been asking questions about you at the campus bookstore. One of my security team recognized the description of the man from the hotel that night."
"Harris." The name tasted bitter on my tongue.
"Most likely," Julian agreed. "Or someone working for him."
I shrugged, trying to appear more nonchalant than I felt. "They can ask all they want. Connor Matthews doesn't work there anymore."
Julian didn't smile. "They're looking for you, Connor. It won't take much for them to connect you to me, especially after our marriage certificate was filed."
"So let them," I said, more bravado than sense. "What are they going to do, storm the fortress? You've got better security than the White House."
Julian's expression didn't lighten. If anything, his concern seemed to deepen, his eyes growing distant as he mentally calculated risks I couldn't even imagine.
Time for a distraction.
"I'm going to change," I announced, heading for the door. "These jeans are cutting off circulation to parts of my anatomy I'd prefer to keep functioning."
That earned me a brief flicker of a smile, which I counted as victory.
In the bedroom, I shed my clothes quickly.
Julian's closet was a wonderland of expensive fabrics and perfect tailoring.
On impulse, I bypassed my own new wardrobe and selected one of his crisp white dress shirts.
It hung loose on my frame, long enough to cover the essentials but short enough to make a statement.
When I returned to the study, Julian was still behind his desk, frowning at his phone. He looked up as I entered, and his expression transformed instantly. The concern didn't vanish completely, but it was overshadowed by something darker, hungrier.
"That's mine," he said, his voice dropping to a register that sent shivers down my spine.
I lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug that made the shirt slip slightly, revealing more collarbone. "So am I, according to our marriage certificate."
His eyes tracked the movement of the fabric, lingering on the exposed skin of my thighs. "Is that so?"
"Mmhmm." I moved toward his desk, deliberately slow, enjoying the way his focus narrowed to nothing but me. "But ownership goes both ways, doesn't it?"
Julian's hands gripped the armrests of his wheelchair as I approached, his knuckles whitening slightly. "Does it?"
I circled the desk, coming to stand beside him. "I think it does."
In one fluid motion, Julian reached out, his hand closing around my wrist to pull me onto his lap. I went willingly, settling against him with my legs dangling over the armrest of his wheelchair.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, his breath warm against my neck.
"Good thing I like danger," I replied, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath me, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against my thigh.
Science miracle number two, ladies and gentlemen.
His hand slid under the shirt, fingers tracing patterns on my bare thigh that made my breath catch. "Connor..."
The phone on his desk rang, the sound jarring in the charged atmosphere of the study. Julian growled—actually growled—in frustration, but reached for it anyway.
"This had better be important," he snapped.
I could hear the tinny sound of Michael's voice on the other end, though not the specific words. Whatever he said made Julian's entire body tense beneath me. The hand on my thigh stilled, his fingers pressing slightly harder into my skin.
"How certain are you?" Julian demanded, his voice cool but with an undercurrent of something that raised the hairs on my arms.
More murmuring from Michael.
I shifted slightly on Julian's lap, but he held me firmly in place with the arm that had encircled my waist.
"Keep surveillance at a distance. Do not engage." Julian's tone had shifted to something I hadn't heard before—commanding, yes, but with an edge of controlled fury that was somehow more frightening than outright anger. "I'll call Jake. We need to accelerate our timeline."
He ended the call with a sharp jab at the screen, his jaw clenched tight enough that I could see a muscle jumping in his cheek.
"What's wrong?" I asked, but Julian shook his head slightly, his expression shuttered.
"Just a business matter," he said, though we both knew it was a lie.
I slid off his lap, moving to the stack of contract papers on the corner of his desk that I'd noticed earlier. "Let me help you organize these, at least. Your filing system is giving me hives."
Julian watched me for a long moment, something unreadable in his dark eyes. "He's found you," he said finally, his voice so quiet I almost didn't hear it.
I looked up from the papers, confused. "Who's found me?"
But Julian had already turned away, reaching for his phone again, his shoulders set in a rigid line that spoke of determination and something else—something fiercely protective that made my heart beat faster.
As I continued sorting the papers, arranging them by date as Julian liked, I realized how quickly everything had changed. Just days ago, I'd been alone, struggling to make ends meet. Now I had someone who looked at me like I was worth protecting, worth fighting for.
The shadow Julian was worried about seemed distant compared to the solid reality of him across from me, already moving mountains I couldn't see to keep me safe.
I'd only just found him too. And I wasn't about to let anyone take him away from me either.