21. Chapter Seventeen #2
He either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice the way women look his way in hopes his eyes will find theirs.
Sometimes, when he’s not looking, I find myself watching him.
I’ve caught him staring off into space more than once.
It’s always with a quiet sadness etched into his features that makes me want to ask him what goes on in his mind.
The only reason I haven’t asked is because I’m almost positive he won’t tell me, anyway.
There’s a loneliness to him that resonates with my own. His company has become addictive.
I wonder if Julian Havord knows that he’s the epitome of crepuscular rays breaking through clouds at twilight—quiet and beautiful, leaving an impact he probably doesn’t even see.
“You didn’t tell me they were friends of yours,” I say softly. Neither of us pulls back, and everything about our closeness feels daring—tempting.
The corner of his mouth kicks up. “In a sense.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
He sighs, eyes dancing between mine. “It means I put up with them.”
“Oi, I heard that,” Ryder says from across the table.
“I do believe that was the intent,” Felix replies dryly before snagging the elbow of a passing waitress, who visibly flusters at his attention. “We’ll have two bottles of Sullivan for the table. Red.”
Julian ignores them, leaning closer until his lips brush my ear, sending a shiver up my spine. “Say the safe word, and we’ll be out of here.”
I chuckle. “That goes for you too.”
“Whispering is rude, you know,” Noah whispers next to my other ear, his sudden closeness startling me so much that my chair tips.
“Unless I’m included, that is.” He smirks as his eyes fall and I follow them.
I’m clinging to Julian, but that’s not all.
My cheeks heat as I notice his arms are wrapped around my waist to steady me.
I steal a glance up at him, only to find him frowning at his arms as if they’ve betrayed him. Embarrassed, I move to pull away, but he holds me there for a moment longer, his expression unreadable.
“What’s this?” he asks, his voice low as his fingers trace the fabric at my side until they brush against something beneath it. I freeze, realizing he’s found the tag. Damn it.
My face burns. “Nothing,” I mutter, pushing him away more firmly this time. I avoid his eyes as I find sudden interest in the tablecloth.
“Andrea,” Julian starts, but anything he was planning to say after that is interrupted by another presence—a gray-haired man who regards us with a polite smile.
“Mr. Havord?” the gentleman inquires, though it’s more of a statement than a question. He knows exactly who Julian is; otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing here.
Julian holds my gaze until the last possible second before he turns his head to greet the man. He rises to shake his hand with practiced politeness. “Mr. Ashver, it’s a pleasure. I was hoping to run into you this evening.”
“As was I,” Mr. Ashver replies with a grin. His attention shifts to me as curiosity dances in his eyes. “And who might this be?”
I stand, extending my hand with a confident smile. When he takes it, I envelop his hand with both of mine, turning on the charm. “Andrea Sommers, Julian’s girlfriend.”
With his free hand, he pats the top of my hand, smiling warmly at me.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?
” His gaze flickers to Julian in approval and I suppress the eye roll threatening to slip through my mask of composure.
“Do you mind if I steal him? Business matters. We wouldn’t want to bore you to death. ”
“Not at all. Just make sure to bring him back to me,” I say, glancing at Julian to make sure he’s okay with it.
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His expression tells me he’s on edge about something and I feel an instinctive urge to wipe the look off his face.
You’ll be okay? his eyes silently ask.
I nod, leaning in to grip his biceps gently and rise onto my toes to place a quick kiss on his cheek.
I feel his muscles go rigid beneath my fingers before I let him go and take a step back.
For his ears only, I say, “I think I’ll take a lap.
I saw a few pamphlets on safe sex at the front I can grab for Carter. ”
This earns me a genuine laugh and I watch as the tension visibly eases from his shoulders. Still, he hesitates, glancing over at Mr. Ashver, who is now engaged in conversation with a group of men. “Go, Julian. Seriously, I’ll be fine.”
He lets out a deep breath and nods.
“If you need me to come sit pretty, just whistle,” I joke, and his frown makes me laugh.
He shakes his head, stepping close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “I won’t be long,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple with a tenderness that grips my heart before he heads over to Mr. Kline.
I stand there for a moment before remembering my plan to explore.
I spend some time wandering through the booths and listening to the foundation’s success stories.
Every so often, I feel the heat of a particular set of gray eyes on me, but whenever I look over to where he’s standing, his attention is on someone else .
It’s fifteen minutes later that I grow bored. I’m flipping through a pamphlet at the sixth table I’ve visited when an arm loops through mine.
“You feel lucky, don’t you?”
I look over to find Josephine. My brows furrow, not understanding her question. “Lucky how?”
She has a bright smile plastered on her face, but her tone is laced with something darker.
“You’re here with him,” she says, studying me with a glint of malice that I don't think she’d ever dare show Julian.
“I say this gal to gal. . .they all feel lucky for a little while. Don’t fool yourself into thinking he’ll keep you around. He never did hang onto arm candy long.”
I absorb her words like a splash of cold water, disbelief coursing through me. I yank my arm free from her grasp. “You’re way out of line. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She frowns, feigning pity. “Oh dear, you’re confused, aren’t you?”
Refusing to give in to my anger, which I’m quite certain is her goal, I muster a small smile. “The only person confused here is you.”
She shrugs indifferently, peering over her shoulder with a sly grin. “You see her?”
I don’t want to fall into the trap, but curiosity wins. I follow her eyes to a thin blonde woman draped in a stunning red gown. I look back at Josephine, my brow arched in question.
She’s all too eager to elaborate. “There’s about ten more of them in this room. You’ll bore him eventually, Miss Sommers. We both know this world isn’t yours. People shouldn’t try to fit in places they don’t belong.”
With that, she walks away, leaving me reeling. Anger surges within me—not just for Julian, but for me as well. I’m furious at how she spoke about him and embarrassed that I don’t blend in as seamlessly as I’d hoped.
Once again, I follow the warmth that ignites my skin, and my eyes meet Julian’s across the room. He’s already watching me, completely unashamed of being caught and holding my gaze without flinching.
So, I let myself stare back, letting the connection linger in the air between us.