Chapter 17 Julian
Julian
I felt the familiar surge of protective rage that had gotten me into trouble more than once in my life. The sight of Vivienne's pale face, the strain around her eyes, the way she was trying to hold herself together—it made me want to burn down everything that had caused her pain.
"Inside," I said quietly, my hand finding the small of her back. "We need to talk about this properly."
Diesel nodded, following us up the steps to Vivienne's front door. As we settled in her living room, I noted the stack of graded papers on her dining table, evidence of the weekend she'd spent working while I'd been counting the hours until I could see her again.
"Show me where it's at now," I said to Diesel, my voice carrying the command authority that had served me well in the military and in business.
Diesel pulled out his phone again, scrolling through what appeared to be multiple gossip sites. "It started with a small segment in Celebrity Insider late last night. But look at this, it's been picked up by at least five other sites in the last few hours."
I studied the screens, my jaw tightening with each swipe. The same photo, over and over, with increasingly speculative headlines. Some of the sites had already started digging, mentioning Vivienne's name, her profession, even the school where she worked.
"This isn't organic," I said grimly. "Photos from gallery openings don't spread this fast unless someone's pushing them."
"That's what I thought," Diesel agreed. "Which is why I called Kane on my way over here. He's already working his contacts to trace the source."
Vivienne sank onto her couch, looking overwhelmed. "I don't understand any of this. It's just a photo of us walking together. Why is it such big news?"
I sat beside her, careful not to crowd her but close enough to offer comfort.
"Because I've spent years being very private about my personal life.
Only being seen with people already in the spotlight.
The media loves a mystery, and you're..." I paused, searching for the right words.
"You're different from the women I've been photographed with before. "
"Different how?" Vivienne asked, though her tone suggested she already suspected the answer.
"Real," I said simply. "You're not in the industry, you're not using me for publicity or connections. The gossip sites seem to have been scrambling until they could figure out who you are and why you matter to me."
"Do I matter to you?" The question was quiet, vulnerable, and it hit me harder than any accusation could have.
"More than I thought possible," I said, my hand finding hers. "Which is why we're going to figure this out."
My phone rang, and Kane's name appeared on the screen. I answered immediately, putting it on speaker so we could all hear.
"What did you find?" I asked without preamble.
"Someone definitely orchestrated this," Kane's voice was grim.
"The photo was initially sold to Celebrity Insider by a freelance photographer, but here's the interesting part—he was paid a bonus for 'exclusive content' separately by someone using a shell company.
I'm still tracing the ownership, but this has all the hallmarks of a coordinated attack. "
"Scarlett," I said immediately.
"That would be my guess," Kane agreed. "She has the connections and the motivation. Plus, I found evidence that someone's been feeding information to the gossip sites—Vivienne's full name, where she works, background details. This isn't just about a photo anymore."
Vivienne's face went white. "They're investigating me?"
"That's how the gossip sites work," I said, anger making my voice sharp. "They want to build a narrative, and they need details to do it."
"Can you stop it?" Vivienne asked Kane.
"I'm working on it. But Julian, you need to decide how you want to handle this. Going on the offensive could backfire if we're not careful."
I felt the familiar urge to take action, to use my connections and resources to shut down the stories and protect Vivienne. But one look at her face told me she wouldn't appreciate being managed like a business crisis.
"What do you want to do?" I asked her directly.
Vivienne was quiet for a long moment, and I could see her processing the options. When she spoke, her voice was steadier than I'd expected.
"I want to stay together," she said, meeting my eyes directly. "I don't want to let some gossip sites dictate my personal life. But I also really don't want to lose my job."
"Then we'll be discreet," I said immediately. "No public appearances, no more gallery events until this dies down. I'll have my security team make sure you're not being followed or harassed."
"For how long?" Vivienne asked.
"However long it takes," I said firmly.
“Well if this picture is bad news, the one of me and Raphael will be earth shattering.”
“Raphael Blackstone?” Diesel asked.
“Yeah, he was there that night.” I answered before turning to Vivienne, “What’s in the picture of you and Raphael?”
“A photographer came and asked for a photo. Raphael pulled me in as I was backing away, and he caught a photo just as I tripped into Raphael with my hand on his chest.” Her cheeks were fire engine red.
It must have been bad if she was reacting that way, and I recalled how Raphael mentioned a photograph with her.
“He was probably barely wearing a shirt,” Diesel commented. “I recall one of the last events I saw him at, he wore a bowtie without a shirt. Like some Magic Mike shit.”
“He at least had an open vest on this time. But pretty much.” I responded.
Vivienne’s face was still flaming at the recollection.
"Kane, keep digging. Find out who's behind this and see if we can shut it down at the source. And see if you can find that photograph of Vivienne and Raphael before it ends up on some front page somewhere."
"Copy that," Kane said. "I'll call you when I have more information."
After Kane hung up, Diesel stood to leave. "I should get going, let you two figure out the details."
I walked him to the door, and Diesel paused on the threshold. "Julian," he said quietly, "I know this is new for you, but..."
"But what?"
"Don't fuck this up by trying to control everything. She's not like the others—she doesn't want to be managed or protected from every little thing. She wants to be your partner, not your possession. You're doing really well, asking her what she'd like to do. Keep it up."
The words hit closer to home than I cared to admit. "I know that."
"Do you? Because I've seen how you operate when something matters to you.
You tend to lock it down, keep it safe, make sure nothing can hurt it.
" Diesel's expression was serious. "That won't work with her.
She's not something to be collected and protected.
She's someone to be trusted and respected. "
I felt a flash of irritation. "Noted. Now shut up and get out of here."
Diesel's smile widened. "Good. She deserves someone who sees her as irreplaceable." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Take care of her. And let her take care of you too."
After Diesel left, I returned to the living room to find Vivienne sitting motionless on the couch staring at her hands. The stress of the day was written across her features, and I felt another surge of protective anger at whoever had orchestrated this invasion of her privacy.
"Hey," I said softly, sitting beside her again. "We're going to get through this."
"Are we?" Vivienne looked up at me with tired eyes. "Julian, I barely know how to navigate your world on a good day. This... this feels like being thrown into the deep end without knowing how to swim."
I reached for her hands, noting how they trembled slightly in my grasp. "Then I'll teach you to swim. And I'll make sure you never drown."
Vivienne's smile was watery but genuine. "You can't protect me from everything."
"Watch me," I said, and meant it completely.
Something shifted in Vivienne's expression, a spark of the passion I'd seen at the gallery, at the photo shoot. "Julian Thorne," she said, her voice gaining strength, "If you think I'm going to hide away and let some jealous model ruin what we have, you're wrong."
"I don't want you to hide," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true. Part of me did want to wrap her up and keep her safe from all of this. "I want you to be safe."
"I want to be yours," Vivienne said simply, and the words hit me like a physical blow. "Not your secret, not your liability, not your problem to solve. Just yours."
I stared at her, at the determination in her eyes, the set of her jaw that suggested she'd made up her mind about something important. "Vivienne..."
"I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly. "Whatever this costs us, whatever we have to deal with, I'm not walking away from you because some gossip sites think our relationship is news."
The relief that flooded through me was so intense it was almost painful. I'd been bracing myself for her to decide I wasn't worth the trouble, that my world came with too many complications she hadn't signed up for.
"You're sure?" I asked, needing to hear it again.
"I'm sure." Vivienne moved closer to me on the couch, her hands framing my face the way I'd done to her outside. "Are you?"
Instead of answering with words, I kissed her. It was meant to be soft, reassuring, a seal on our decision to weather this storm together. But the moment our lips met, the careful control I'd been maintaining all day began to fray.
The stress, the anger, the fear of losing her, the overwhelming relief that she was choosing to be with me—it all combined into a need so intense it took my breath away.
Vivienne responded immediately, her arms winding around my neck, her body pressing against mine with an urgency that matched my own. When she made that soft sound in the back of her throat, the one that drove me absolutely crazy, my restraint snapped entirely.