Chapter Nineteen
Julian
The final shoot.
Finally.
I kept repeating that to myself like a quiet prayer, like the words would somehow make the day pass faster.
The last time I had to stand under lights pretending to be someone whole, flawless, untouchable. The last time before we’d leave this city behind and I could return to the carefully controlled hell I knew.
“Almost done,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders back, jaw tight. I didn’t glance at Victor, who stood in the shadows like he always did—watching. Always watching.
The photographer called it—“That’s a wrap!”—and for the first time all day my chest loosened, just slightly. I turned to head for my dressing room.
But then Victor’s hand clamped around my arm.
The air left my lungs.
“Don’t think for a second this is over,” Victor hissed low into my ear. His grip tightened, fingers bruising into my skin. “When you get home, you’re mine again. No more distractions. No more little games with that puppy trailing you around.”
I swallowed hard. My heart slammed against my ribs.
“You’ve been slipping, Julian. Eating what you shouldn’t. Smiling like you mean it. Almost forgetting who owns you.”
His fingers dug in sharper.
“If you embarrass me again... if you gain even half a pound... I’ll ruin you. And you know I can.”
He let go so fast I stumbled a step back.
My wrist burned. My skin pulsed where he touched me, like his handprint was seared there forever.
I turned quickly, trying to keep my expression locked, blank, untouchable.
That’s when I saw him.
Miles.
Standing a few feet away.
Staring.
His brows drawn tight, lips pressed together like he’d seen more than he should’ve.
Our eyes met for a heartbeat.
His gaze burned into mine—curious, worried—but the moment I looked up, he glanced away sharply. Pretending he hadn’t seen anything. Like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.
But I knew.
He knew something.
And that made my stomach twist hard, fear crawling cold under my skin.
No one was supposed to see. No one was ever supposed to see.
I turned away fast, my steps stiff and controlled as I headed for the dressing room.
I couldn’t fall apart now.
Not yet.
Not with him watching.
I shut the door behind me harder than necessary, the click sharp in the small dressing room. My chest still felt tight. My wrist still burned where Victor had gripped it.
God, I wanted to scream. Or break something. Or both.
Instead, I sat on the little bench and forced myself to breathe.
In. Out. Keep it together.
Lena was there, packing up the last of my things. Folding clothes, checking hangers. Humming like it was just another day. Like she hadn’t seen the tension in my shoulders or the panic in my eyes when I walked in.
“You’ve been different lately,” she said after a moment, smirking to herself as she zipped up the garment bag. “Softer. Less murder in your eyes when that kid’s around. Almost human.”
I shot her a flat look.
“Don’t push your luck.”
She just laughed like she knew better. Like she always did.
Before I could snap something else, there was a soft knock on the door. It cracked open, and Miles stepped in.
God help me. That damn golden retriever smile again. Still here. Still shining. Like none of this shit could touch him.
Lena glanced between us, and—fortunately—picked up the vibe immediately. She grabbed the last of the hangers and slung her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll give you two a minute,” she said, winking as she slipped out.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Miles shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. His hair was messy from the shoot, his shirt wrinkled, a little loose around the collar. He looked tired. But still... bright. Somehow.
“You up for a late-night walk?” he asked casually, like he hadn’t just seen Victor’s fingers bruising my arm. Like he wanted to offer something normal. Something light.
A walk.
Out there. With him.
I stared at him, blinking slowly.
Part of me screamed to say no. To tell him to leave me the hell alone.
But the words... didn’t come.
Instead, I heard myself mumble, “Sure. I guess.”
Why?
Why did I keep saying yes to him?
Maybe because when he smiled like that... when he looked at me like I was someone worth inviting along...
I felt something warm in my chest.
Safe. And I hated it.
I grabbed my jacket, slipping it on like armor. “Lead the way, sunshine,” I muttered.
He grinned wider, like he won something. Like dragging a grump like me into the Florence night was some victory.
God.
What the hell was he doing to me?
We walked along the cobblestone streets of Florence in the quiet of late evening. The lamps above glowed soft gold, casting long shadows on the ancient stone buildings. Shops were closed, the tourists thinned out, leaving the city to itself.
And us.
I should’ve said no.
I should’ve went back to our hotel room, locked the door, shoved my headphones in, and ignored the world like I always did. Like I was supposed to.
But here I was.
Walking beside him.
Why?
I didn’t know. Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to say it.
Miles talked. God, he talked. About everything.
“That’s the Duomo,” he said, pointing toward the massive cathedral as we turned the corner. “Fun fact: they didn’t even know how to build that dome when they started. Like... imagine winging it that hard on a building this big. Total chaos.”
I huffed a quiet breath through my nose. Almost a laugh. He grinned, not missing it.
“And that statue over there? Fake. Not the real David. Total ripoff.”
I glanced sideways at him. His hair was a mess from the wind, his jacket zipped up all wrong, collar sticking up. His shoelace was untied. Clueless. He kept talking. He tripped over the uneven stones with a quiet curse and caught himself on a railing.
“Jesus—this whole city’s a lawsuit waiting to happen—”
That time, I laughed. I actually laughed.
Real.
Ugly.
Uncontrolled.
His head whipped toward me, eyes wide with surprise before they softened. “There it is,” he said, grinning. “Your actual smile. Not the camera one. The real one. You have a beautiful smile, you know.”
I froze mid-step. My chest squeezed tight. Too tight.
Beautiful?
No. No one said that. No one meant it like that.
He was too close. Too warm. Too... good.
I hated it.
I hated that it made me feel anything at all.
I tore my gaze away, stuffing my hands in my jacket pocket like it could protect me from this strange light he dragged out of me. “Don’t push your luck, Bennett,” I muttered, eyes on the cobblestones.
But my lips betrayed me, curving up again when he stumbled on the next stone and laughed at himself.
He didn’t even care that he looked ridiculous. He didn’t care about the stares. The image.
God, I hated him for that.
And I wanted it, too.
Wanted to know what it felt like to live that free.
Even if only for this walk.
The city lights blurred softly around us as we walked toward another landmark—an old fountain framed by flickering lanterns. We stopped, side by side, staring at the water pooling in its basin, quiet except for the gentle splash of the cascading stone.
I suddenly realized how close we were—too close.
Miles was just a little taller, his frame leaning in slightly over me, the warmth radiating off him like a soft fire that pulled at something deep inside.
Like a sailor drawn to a siren’s call, I was caught—pulled in by something I hadn’t felt in years.
His voice broke through the silence, soft and steady, explaining something about the history of the fountain.
But I wasn’t really listening. My gaze drifted, landing on the way his hair caught the light, a loose strand falling just above his eyes.
The slight crease at the corner of his mouth when he smiled without knowing it.
The way his hand twitched as he gestured, those long fingers—too graceful for his clumsy nature.
Without thinking, I turned fully toward him, my eyes tracing the gentle curve of his jaw, the calm in his expression. I was admiring him—something I’d never admit out loud.
Then, he shifted, turning his head to look down at me. Our eyes locked. His gaze held a question—or maybe a promise—I couldn’t tell.
The world narrowed to just us.
He stopped speaking. The space between us shrank as he leaned in.
Every instinct screamed at me to run. To pull away. To protect myself.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I found myself leaning in too, drawn to him despite the chaos inside me.
Closer.
Closer.
Until—
Flash.
Bright, blinding light shattered everything.
Paparazzi. Cameras. Shouts.
We broke apart, breathless and startled.
My heart hammered in my chest, a chaotic mess of want and fear.
I hated how much I wanted this. I hated how much I hated wanting it.
I wanted to believe I could just walk away, put up my walls and be fine.
But part of me knew—
That moment was a crack in everything I’d built.
And maybe, just maybe—
I didn’t want to fix it.
We moved fast, ducking into the nearest alley, away from the flashing lights and shouting voices. My heart was racing—not from the cameras, not from being seen.
From him.
Neither of us spoke. Neither of us mentioned what almost happened.
That breathless moment hung in the air like unfinished words, heavy and dangerous.
Miles shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the sidewalk like it held the universe’s answers. I kept my eyes ahead, jaw tight, pretending I didn’t notice the way his shoulder brushed mine as we walked. Close. Too close.
We didn’t speak the whole way back to the hotel.
And God, the silence was worse than any noise.
In the elevator, I stared at the buttons, willing the numbers to climb faster. I could feel his glance flicking toward me. Like he was waiting. Wondering.
But he never asked.
And I never told.
When we stepped into the hallway, my hand on the key card, I paused.
This week... this whole, strange, chaotic week... it was supposed to be hell. I wanted it over the moment we landed. Wanted to be home, alone, wrapped in my cold, familiar life.
But now that it was ending—now that the final shoot was done, the last sunset in Florence behind us—
I didn’t want it to end.
Not really.
Not when there was a certain stubborn, sunshine boy walking beside me. Someone who smiled too easily. Talked too much. Made the walls around my chest crack wider every damn day.
I clenched the key card tighter.
No. I didn’t want to admit that. I couldn’t.
But the truth sat there, low in my chest, humming softly like a secret.
I didn’t want to leave him.
Not yet.
And maybe... not ever.
I shoved the thought down hard as the door clicked open.
But it didn’t go away.
Not this time.