Chapter 10
Julien
It was getting late, and Serena had already shut me down about coming over.
She’s good at that, sharp but sweet with her no, like she knew exactly how to keep me hungry without letting me starve. The woman got a PhD in playing hard to get. Luckily, I’m fluent in Patience. Fluent in waiting for the exact moment she’d stop pretending she didn’t want what we both already knew was inevitable.
So, I let her have her space, for now, and slid into a spot that asked fewer questions: a dimly lit bar on the east side. The kind of place where the music was low, the whiskey was strong.
My eyes scanned the room, locking on Kameron in seconds. He was hunched over his glass like it had done something personal to him, the bartender already sliding another pour his way. That was my first red flag. Kameron didn’t do second, especially not when he’s meeting me for work.
“Didn’t expect to find you nursing a bottle,” I said, shrugging off my coat, pulling up a stool beside him.
He looked up, expression blank for half a beat before stretching into something that might’ve passed for a smile.
“Julien. Thought you might ghost me.”
I shook my head, signaling for a whiskey. “I don’t ghost. I just show up late.”
Kameron let out a dry chuckle, but it didn’t land right. Didn’t reach his eyes. “You always were good at making an entrance.”
I studied him more closely. Rumpled shirt, slight slump in his shoulders, fingers tapping the side of his glass like he was stalling. “What’s going on, man? You don’t look like the guy who closed out that hedge fund mess for Franklin the building was empty except for them. I texted Serena to meet me here before the staff so we could get some time alone. With everything Kameron laid on me last night, I figured it was time to put a lid on whatever was brewing between me and Serena. I told myself that on the drive over. Said it again walking into the building. I even halfway believed it.
I don’t chase women. Never had to. And wanting someone who keeps making it clear she doesn’t want me back? Yeah, that shit gets tired real quick. Her push and pull had me on the hook longer than I care to admit, but I’ve got bigger things to figure out now, like whatever she and my mother are wrapped up in.
Then I heard sharp tap of heels on polished floors, steady like a metronome. She walked in like the office belonged to her. Like she built it from the ground up and dared anyone to say otherwise.
She didn’t even glance my way.
She just floated in, her dress capris hugging those legs like they were tailored in sin, and that white blouse unbuttoned just enough to tease. She wore her hair down again, loose curls grazing her shoulders. Lips slicked in that shiny pink gloss that had me thinking things that’s definitely illegal in a professional workplace.
She dropped into her chair like I wasn’t sitting there waiting for her. Like she hadn’t left me thinking about her half the damn night.
Yeah… maybe I’ll put a lid on us after just one more taste.
Her chair creaked as she leaned back, elbows draped over the armrests like a queen surveying her kingdom. The open V of her blouse shifted, teasing me with a glimpse of smooth brown skin and cleavage she knew she was flaunting.
I had no choice but to look.
“Good morning,” she purred, spinning her chair in a slow half-turn before resting her chin on her hand. Those glossy pink nails tapped against her cheek, bold against her rich complexion. Her eyes are dark, and full of mischief and locked onto mine like she was daring me to make the next move.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Brooks?”
She said the words, her voice low and sweet, like she already knew the answer and was just waiting for me to crack.
Purgatory. That’s what the hell this was.
I leaned back, matching her energy, my years of poker coming in handy. “Good morning, Serena.” A slow smirk. “You’re late.”
She shrugged, unbothered. “You’re early.”
“And you’re trouble.” My gaze dropped to her mouth for half a second, just long enough to let her know I remembered how she tasted.
A faint smirk curled her lips. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
The air between us thickened, charged with everything we weren’t saying. She exhaled, stretching her arms above her head like she was putting on a show just for me.
“You seem… better,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
“Thanks to someone who gave me a very motivating pep talk.” Her eyes flicked to mine, a challenge in them. “Right when I needed it most.”
Her words caught me off guard.
“Thank you for that,” she said, her voice softer now, like it had been wrapped in velvet. Those sharp, always-on-guard eyes softened just enough to make something in my chest shift.
I waved it off before that feeling had a chance to dig in. “It was nothing.”
But she wasn’t the type to let anything slide.
“It was something to me.” Her gaze didn’t waver. Locked onto mine like she was holding me there on purpose. “I’m used to handling everything myself. Used to falling and figuring it out alone. People don’t catch me.”
Something in her voice… stripped down and unfiltered, peeled back the layers she kept so damn tight. This woman wore her confidence like armor, but right now, she was showing me the pieces underneath, and trusting me not to break them.
“You’re making it sound like I’m the good guy,” I muttered, looking away, needing space from the way her mouth looked when she said real shit like that.
She leaned in before I could escape the moment, slow and unshaken. “I think you are.”
That laugh slipped out before I could stop it. It was dry, low, and laced with disbelief. I tipped my head back. “Sweetheart, I’m a lot of things.” I leaned in, close enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin, close enough to catch the vanilla and spice clinging to her like a secret. “But good ain’t one of them.”
She didn’t blink.
“Funny,” she said, her voice a whisper that curled around me, “because your actions are telling a whole different story.”
“It was nothing,” I said, rolling my shoulders back. “Just a reminder to keep your head up.”
Most people took what they needed from me and kept it pushing. No reciprocity, no warmth. But her? She didn’t just take. She saw me. And worse, she made me want to be seen.
Pride had been my armor for as long as I could remember. Worn smooth from years of use, polished enough to look like confidence instead of the self-preservation it really was. I’d built my life behind deals and survival. That armor kept me untouchable.
There’s nothing casual about the way she’s looking at me.
Those eyes… rich brown, steady and searching had a way of making a man forget every lie he ever told himself. That he was fine. That he didn’t need anyone. That softness was a liability.
“Nothing, huh?” she said, lips curving with just enough bite to sting. “Funny how the smallest things can feel like the biggest when they come from the right person.”
I swallowed hard, jaw tightening. She wasn’t just disarming me. She was rearranging me.
She didn’t have to ask for anything. Didn’t even lean in close. But somehow, she still had me wanting to give. Wanting to show up different.
That was the most dangerous part.
“You okay?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence, soft but probing.
I blinked, pulling myself back to the present. She was watching me, head tilted slightly, brows pulled in just enough to show she noticed something most people would’ve missed.
“Yeah,” I said, tightening my jaw and brushing the thoughts away. “Why?”
Her gaze didn’t budge. “You went somewhere just now. It’s in your eyes.”
I exhaled through my nose, leaning a little heavier against the desk. “Didn’t sleep much.”
She arched a brow. “Doing what?”
The way she asked it—light, casual—but I caught it. That edge underneath. Like she was bracing for something she didn’t want to hear.
I let a smirk pull at the corner of my mouth. “Mafia movies.”
Her eyes narrowed just slightly. “Again?”
“My favorite one.” I paused, letting the moment stretch. “The Professional.”
There it was… that flicker.
Her mouth parted, then closed again. Her arms folded across her chest, but not defensive. Almost like she was bracing herself.
“I watched it,” she said finally, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
“You did?”
A slow shrug. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I was bored.”
“Right,” I said, a grin tugging at my mouth. “Bored.”
She rolled her eyes, but I saw the heat creeping up her neck, the way her lips twitched like she was trying not to smiled.
“You said it was good,” she muttered.
I took a step closer. “I did. Didn’t think you were listening.”
Serena uncrossed her arms, resting her hands on her desk as she studied me. That assessing gaze of hers could make a man sweat if he had anything to hide.
“So what did you do,” she asked, “before waltzing in here like you own the place?” The question was casual, but her eyes were sharp. She’d been waiting to ask this.
I chuckled, leaning against her desk. “That’s how you ask about my work history?”
“Consider it a professional curiosity.” She tilted her head. “Unless there’s a reason you’re avoiding the question.”
The challenge in her voice was clear, but so was the genuine interest. This wasn’t just needling, she actually wanted to know.
“Brooks Enterprise,” I said after a beat. “Real estate acquisitions, international expansion. Ten years building what I thought would be my legacy.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Impressive resume. So why leave?”
I could have given her the polished answer. Could have brushed it off. But something about the way she was watching me, not with pity, but with that razor-sharp understanding.
“Because legacy only matters if it’s yours to keep.” I met her gaze. “My father handed everything I built to someone else. Didn’t even have the decency to look me in the eye when he did it.”
A beat of silence. Then, quietly: “Damn.”
“Yeah. Damn.”
She didn’t offer empty sympathy. Didn’t try to fix it. Just nodded slowly, like she was filing away this piece of information about me.
“And this?” She gestured between us. “Your fresh start?”
“Something like that.” I held her gaze. “Turns out some things are worth starting over for.”
The air between us shifted. She looked away first, but not before I caught the faintest softening around her eyes.
“Why?” she asked, leaning in just enough to close the space between us. “Why not fight for what’s rightfully yours?”
I studied her, how her fingers tightened around that pink pen like a weapon, the flicker in her eyes. This wasn’t curiosity. This was her trying the idea on for size. Testing the weight of it in her mouth before deciding if it fit her.
“Because sometimes you shouldn’t have to fight for what’s already yours,” I said, voice low, even. “If you do, maybe it never was.”
She didn’t blink. Just let the silence stretch, heavy and daring.
“But if you love it,” she said slowly, “isn’t it worth the fight?”
There it was. Not a question. A confession dressed like a challenge.
I held her gaze, steady. “You know your worth, Serena. That should be loud enough without you having to beg someone to hear it.”
Something flickered behind her eyes, something she didn’t mean for me to see. But it was there—unspoken, raw.
Then, the edge of her mouth curved. Not a smile, not exactly. More like a warning dressed in lip gloss.
“So this you talking me out of fighting for what’s mine?” she asked, playful now, but sharp. “Telling me to just let you take it?”
I matched her tone. “Nah. Just passing along what I learned the hard way.”
I paused, let that sink in.
“My father moved the goalposts every time I got close. Wanted me to be him. Wanted me to stay in the shadow. No matter how many deals I closed, how much money I brought in—none of it mattered.”
Her expression shifted. Softer, but still guarded.
“She always said I was too stubborn,” she said, leaning back. “Too headstrong.”
“She might’ve been right,” I said with a shrug, teased the line just enough to keep her on edge.
Her brow arched. “Oh, you bold today.”
“Stubbornness is good in business,” I said, nodding. “Until it isn’t. You’ve built something real here. That takes vision. Backbone. But being able to pivot when the numbers say pivot? That takes maturity.”
Her jaw ticked, just slightly. “I’m not some wide-eyed intern. I’ve been in these trenches since day one. Turned her little boutique dream into a multimillion-dollar brand. I don’t just work here, Julien. I am this company.”
I nodded. “Then you’d know its secrets too.”
The shift was subtle, but I saw it… the flicker of something tightening behind her eyes. Not fear. Not guilt. But awareness.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, cool again. Controlled.
I raised both hands. “Easy. Just wondering how much you actually know about what she’s been doing behind closed doors.”
Her stare didn’t waver, but the energy changed—shoulders straighter, voice quieter. “You’re good at that,” she muttered.
“At what?”
“Asking innocent questions,” she said, mouth twisting slightly. “Until they’re not.”
I smiled slow. “And here I thought you liked a challenge.”
She didn’t respond, she just stared at me, the silence growing thick between us.
Before she could respond, there was a sharp knock at the door.
It opened a second later, and in walked my mother, all pearls and presence like she hadn’t just timed this interruption with a sniper precision.
“There you two are,” she said, breezing in like she owned the air we were breathed. “Julien, I thought I’d give you a proper tour of the office. Make sure you get the full experience of what we’ve built here.”
Serena’s jaw clenched. She didn’t speak right away, just smoothed her blouse and stepped back behind her desk, cool as ever. Controlled. But her eyes had that glint… that you’ve overstayed your welcome gleam that didn’t need a full sentence to land.
Julien turned back to her. “Serena was actually—”
“I’m sure your mother would love to show you around,” she said, with a smile so sweet it could cut glass. “Quality time.”
Message received.
I didn’t argue. Just offered her a look. One that said this isn’t over.
She didn’t flinch. Just sat down, eyes already on her screen like I was dismissed.
But that only made me more certain—I’d be back.
So much for putting a lid on whatever this was between me and Serena. At best, I’d managed to move us to a low simmer. And the worst part? I wasn’t even mad about it.
My mother fell in step beside me as I left Serena’s office. I slowed just enough to let her lead, even though my height usually put me a step ahead of damn near everyone. It was a silent power move, but she didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she did and just didn’t care.
She led me into one of the smaller conference rooms where a tray of neatly arranged pastries, fruit, and carafes of coffee waited, like we were about to sit down for a team meeting.
But there was no one else.
She slid into a seat without ceremony and started plating a bagel like she hadn’t just pulled me out of Serena’s office on some made-up excuse about a tour.
Now I saw it for what it was.
A play.
A redirect.
She just wanted me away from Serena.
“I want you to stay away from her,” she said plainly, not even bothering to look up as she reached for the cream cheese.
I raised a brow, leaning a hip against the table. “That’s interesting. Weren’t you the one who told me to keep an eye on her?”
“I did,” she replied, tone clipped, spreading cream cheese with the kind of controlled aggression only powerful women and lifelong mothers could manage. “Just not with your pants, Julien.”
I blinked. “Coffee?” She added sweetly, like she hadn’t just dropped that bomb in a brunch tone.
“Wow,” I muttered, pouring myself a cup and taking a long sip.
“I’m serious,” she added, finally meeting my gaze. “Don’t complicate things. She’s focused, brilliant, and already on edge. She doesn’t need you distracting her.”
“You mean she doesn’t need me uncovering whatever the hell you’re trying to keep from me,” I said, voice calm. Controlled. But sharp enough to land.
She smiled tightly, like I’d confirmed a theory. “You always were smart. Just remember, Julien, this isn’t a game. And you’re not here to fall in love.”
I stared at her, pulse steady. “Who said anything about love?”
She took a bite of her bagel, like that answer didn’t shake her at all.
I leaned back in my chair, balancing my coffee cup in one hand. “Little late to start giving me advice about women, don’t you think?”
She didn’t flinch. “We’re not talking about women. We’re talking about Serena.”
Her tone changed when she said her name. Not sharp. Not cold. Just… wary. Like she respected her, but didn’t like how much.
“She does her job well,” she added, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “The staff respects her. They’d follow her into a fire if she asked.”
I tilted my head. “Then why don’t you trust her?”
My mother’s lips pressed into a line. “Call it intuition,” she said after a beat. “Or maybe I’ve just been in this game long enough to know when someone’s playing their own.”
I didn’t respond right away. Let the silence stretch while I studied her. The calm way she buttered a croissant like she hadn’t just accused the woman running her company of being a threat.
Then she looked at me, her eyes cool, voice even. “Whatever’s going on between the two of you, I want you to end it.”
There it was. The command behind the casual.
But that was the thing about telling me what to do—especially when it came to a woman like Serena. If my mother knew me half as well as she thought she did, she’d know one thing for sure.
Her saying that?
Only made me want Serena more.