Chapter 25
Julian
Archer and Freya are sleeping peacefully nestled together. Standing near the foot of the bed, I stare at them and wonder when the hell this happened. When did these two people carve such a large space out in my life?
Memories of last night, watching that fight and fearing for Archer’s life, come flooding back to my mind. I’ve never been so scared.
And then in the bed later in the night when Freya let us in. All this time, I’ve been getting off with strangers because I don’t like letting people into my life, and here come these two people, barreling right in.
Watching Archer fuck her and witnessing her utter perfection made me realize just how much I want to claim her as mine.
As ours. When I took her after he had finished, I had a moment when I feared I was being too rough.
She had only just lost her virginity, and there I was encouraging her to take another.
And she did. The way she purred as I sank inside her. The way she thrust her hips back to meet mine. The way my eyes connected with his and we both realized how perfect this was.
Is it possible I’ve found the two people I can really be myself with? They won’t judge me for my unique tastes and need for control. They don’t just give me what I want—they truly want it too.
Onyx meows at my feet, and I pick her up to keep her quiet. I want them to sleep as long as they can. They both need the recovery.
The cat stares up at me as if confused as to why she’s in a stranger’s apartment and not in our penthouse. I scratch her head, and she purrs in response.
“This is all foreign to me too,” I whisper.
Turning my head, I stare at my reflection in the mirror over Archer’s dresser. The man who stares back is nothing like the one I knew just a few weeks ago. His hair is not perfectly styled. He’s not wearing his usual armor of designer suits and jewelry. He’s not even frowning.
With a sign of resignation, I set Onyx on the floor. Before leaving the room, the bed rustles with movement. Freya stretches under the covers.
Standing in the doorway, I watch her wake up and spot me standing here. She smiles sleepily before reaching for me.
Slowly approaching her, I realize just how much I care about this girl.
When she came into my life, I mistook her for a stubborn, messy cook with a sassy mouth and too much spirit.
Now I see her for what she really is. A beautifully complex woman who often speaks with more confidence than she feels and has a heart bigger than this city.
Climbing onto the bed, I settle between her legs as I stare down at her. “How are you feeling?”
She grins, half awake. “A little sore, but good.”
“Can I get you anything?” I ask.
She shakes her head. So I rest my face on her chest and listen to her breathing for a moment.
“Hey, I was thinking…” she starts, her voice just above a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Does that thing you like…free use…does that mean you can use anyone anytime?”
My brow furrows. “With consent.”
“Yeah, I know. I mean…what if they’re…sleeping?”
My eyes widen, and I glance over at where Archer is still snoring. I’d be lying if I said that thought didn’t instantly arouse me.
Freya laughs when she sees me looking at him. “I don’t mean right now.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I just mean…it sounds like a great way to wake up.” She shrugs innocently.
Desire floods my bloodstream at the idea she’s presenting, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself here. She just had sex for the first time yesterday. It might not be the right time to dive into complicated dynamics like this.
“Slow down,” I whisper.
Grabbing my face, she squeezes my cheeks as she mutters, “I don’t want to slow down. I want to catch up.”
Taking her wrists in my hands, I wrestle her down to the bed with a quiet laugh. She bites her lip to keep from squealing. I put my face close to hers as I reply, “We have plenty of time to catch up. We have all the time in the world.”
“Fine,” she grits, fighting against my hold. “But for the record, I’m giving you my blanket consent now.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t work that way, Freya.”
“Yes, it does,” she argues.
From the other side of the bed, we hear a growly voice add, “I also wouldn’t mind getting woken up that way.”
“See?” Freya says defiantly, staring into my eyes.
With a sigh, I let my face convey my playfulness, but inside I’m worried. This is all going too well, and it’s only a matter of time before it falls apart. And when it does, I don’t know if I’ll have the heart to leave first. Which means I run the risk of being the one left behind.
Archer drifts back off and sleeps late as Freya and I sit on his sofa, each enjoying a cup of coffee.
My computer is open on my lap, and I’m scrolling through kitchen supply websites with her at my side. “I don’t know a damn thing about opening a restaurant,” I mumble with a perplexed look as I scroll through the product page.
She giggles with her lips against her mug. There’s an array of high-end cookware that I scroll through, adding things to the cart as she tells me to.
“You opened a sex club, didn’t you?” she asks. With her chin perched on her hand, she turns toward me, giving me a playful smirk.
I nudge her on the shoulder. “Buying supplies for a sex club is a little different.”
“Did you know what you were doing when you started?”
I adjust in my seat. My leg is bent and resting on my knee as I bring my coffee cup to my lips. “Not a thing.”
Something about this makes her smile. “So how did you do it?”
“When my dad and Matis passed the club down to us, it was already running. Plus Jack was already working there, and he was much smarter than me. I never did bring much to the table.”
Her head tilts toward me.
“I let my partner take the lead on a lot of things. I never wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “I never had the drive you have. I envy you. I have this crippling fear of failure, like no matter what I do, something stops me before I even try.”
Freya’s brows wrinkle as she sets her coffee cup down and turns to face me more.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Bracing myself for what I know is coming, I inhale deeply and look into her eyes.
“Julian, have you ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder?”
Suddenly, it feels as if I’m stripped naked, standing bare and vulnerable in the middle of the room, waiting for her to scrutinize me. Or hurt me. Or laugh at me. Or scare me back into the shell I’ve lived in for so long.
Then I gaze deeper into her warm, honest brown eyes, and I know she would never do any of those things. I am safe with her. As if I could bury myself inside her mind and feel just as at home there as in my own.
Swallowing my discomfort, I nod.
“I was seventeen. The year I finished school. I knew for a while before that that things weren’t quite right, but I always thought I was just paranoid or intense.
Then Jack St. Claire moved to Paris, and I watched the way my dad fawned over him and everything he accomplished.
I felt like such a failure, and I just…couldn’t control it anymore.
I couldn’t control anything. That was the year I had my first attack. ”
Her eyes grow moist as she reaches for me, rubbing her fingers softly over the peak of my cheekbone to my ear.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because it’s embarrassing,” I mutter with a sarcastic laugh.
“That’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Jules. Do you have anything to treat it?”
My eyes cast away in shame. “Yes.”
“And do you…take it?”
“I’ve been doing so good lately. I take it when I need to.”
Her lips purse with concern, and I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.
It’s like she can read my mind and sees my shame.
I don’t need to tell Freya these meds only work if I take them every day because she sees it in my eyes.
But instead of dousing me in even more disgrace, she comforts.
Because that’s what Freya does. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of—”
“Can we change the subject, please?”
With a sympathetic smile, she settles deeper into the couch. “Of course. What do you want to talk about?”
“You,” I reply without hesitation. Always you.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you seem to handle all this so well. Your parents must be proud.”
“Ha,” she says with a huff. “I feel like my parents are only proud of me for a minute. Then they’re pushing me toward the next goal.”
“That’s not true,” I argue.
“It is,” she says, rubbing her face with exhaustion.
“It’s like…they want the best for me. I know that.
They see my potential, and I love them for that.
But they never let me rest. There is always another mountain to climb.
More to strive for. And that’s only so inspiring until it becomes draining. ”
“I understand,” I say, softly touching her back. “I hope this restaurant is your dream.”
“It is. I’m doing this for me.”
“But…” I reply, sensing there is more.
She stares at the screen of industrial mixers and blenders.
“I can’t stop thinking about the girl who once imagined having a restaurant all her own.
The girl who felt like the world was against her.
Like she’d have to work twice as hard as everyone to accomplish what others had.
And now here I am. Shopping for knives and bowls, wondering…
do I really deserve this? Am I good enough? ”
“You know you’re good enough, Freya,” I say with conviction.
“I wish I did.”
Taking her chin in my hand, I turn her to face me. “I’m telling you. You are.”
Her eyes grow moist, and I hope I’m getting through to her. It kills me to think she doubts herself so much. Someone so hardworking, so talented, and so genuinely good should not be plagued with so much insecurity.
Here I am, having to do nothing to earn my praise, and meanwhile she’s working her ass off for it and doubts herself in the end. It’s mind-boggling.
I won’t rest until she believes it.