DAMAGE CONTROL
The conference room at Sterling it was the reality of what she was agreeing to.
She had just spent three years having her private life dissected and commodified by Declan.
Now, she was willingly signing up for more of it.
She looked down at her hands, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the coffee mug.
"I have conditions," Elara said suddenly. Her voice was quiet, but it carried a razor-sharp edge that commanded the room.
Julian leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. He gave her his absolute, undivided attention. "Name them."
"If we are doing this, it is a business transaction. Nothing more," Elara said, looking directly into Julian’s gray eyes.
She needed him to understand the boundaries.
She couldn't survive another emotional car crash.
"No kissing unless we are explicitly aware of a camera on us, and only when absolutely necessary for the narrative. No staying the night at each other’s homes. We arrive in the same car, we smile, we do our jobs, and we go our separate ways. No real feelings, Thorne. I am not looking for a friend,
and I am certainly not looking for a lover. Do you understand?"
Marcus winced slightly at her harshness, but Julian didn't flinch.
Inside, Julian felt a sharp pang of sorrow for how badly Declan had broken her trust.
She was putting up walls made of titanium, bracing herself for betrayal.
But Julian wasn't Declan. He was a man who knew how to play the long game, who knew how to weather a storm, and who understood that winning Elara’s heart wasn't a sprint; it was a grueling, beautiful marathon.
"I understand completely," Julian said. His voice was a low, soothing rumble, lacking any trace of ego or offense. "Strictly business. I won't cross your lines, Elara."
Hearing him say her first name sent a strange, involuntary shiver down her spine. It didn't sound like a business arrangement when he said it. It sounded like a promise.