4. Natalie
CHAPTER 4
NATALIE
I 'm the first to arrive at the Langford, the early morning silence whispering peace to my mind. It's a new day—another fresh start—and absolutely nothing is going to get under my skin. The musty smell of old wood is sharp in my nose, but still carries that mystical air of nostalgia that all historic buildings seem to share.
Today, I'm tackling the Statuary; the most challenging part of the renovation. The room, once grand, now bears the scars of neglect. Cracks spiderweb across the walls, the damage hastily concealed under heavy layers of paint in a futile attempt to preserve its former glory.
The statues, those silent sentinels of history, have been carefully removed at my insistence. The risk of damage during the renovation is too high, and I can't bear the thought of erasing any more of the building's soul.
As I step through the doors, a sense of unease prickles at the back of my neck like a sixth sense. Something is wrong. I can feel it in the air; it's too cold, too humid, too contrary to the summer morning steaming just outside.
I whirl around the room, scouring the place for any sign of trouble. Almost immediately, the source of my discomfort becomes glaringly obvious. My equipment, meticulously organized just the day before, has been scattered around the room.
But even worse: the window is wide open, the clear sign of a culprit sometime during the night.
My heart sinks as I rush over, struggling for air like the wind has been knocked out of me. It's a surreal feeling, but the evidence is undeniable. Rain has soaked through the open window, drenching my tools and plans. Papers are smeared, the ink pooled in ominous clouds across the papers, while electronic equipment sits in puddles of water, their fate uncertain.
Frustration boils over, hot and unyielding. Who would do this? And why? It's a senseless act, one that not only threatens the integrity of the renovation but also disrespects the very essence of this historical treasure. Not to mention that my resolve to be unflappable has shattered before the day even started.
My hands fly at inhuman speed in a desperate attempt to salvage what I can. I'm so engrossed in the moment that I don't hear the footsteps echo in the room behind me. It's not until a thunderous voice slashes through my focus that I realize I'm no longer alone.
"What the hell?” It’s Julian's voice, sharp and angry.
I straighten, pushing a wet strand of hair from my face and willing myself to remain calm. "Someone came in through the window. All my plans are ruined. My equipment—” I stop short, breath hitching in my throat.
Julian tears across the room to the open window and leans out, as if the culprit would still be hiding there. After a moment, he pulls back and continues to survey the room. “What kind of bastard would do something like this?"
I can only shake my head, his words amplifying the raging emotions within myself. We both know the stakes of this renovation, the delicate balance between preserving the past and ushering in a new chapter for the Langford Art Building. And we both know how imperative this is to my career.
"We'll check the security cameras." Julian’s already moving into action, his frustration replaced by an authoritative confidence. "See if the idiot caught himself on tape." Then he adds, more to himself than to me, "Maybe someone left it open yesterday."
My head snaps up, disbelief and indignation racing through me at his implication. "Julian, we're all professionals here. My team knows the risks of leaving a window open, especially with the rain last night."
He meets my gaze, unflinching, a hint of challenge sparking in his dark eyes. "And what is it exactly you're accusing me of, Natalie?"
“I never accused you of anything, Julian, ” I throw back. “Your crew, on the other hand?—"
“What about my crew?” Julian takes an alarmingly large step toward me.
I match his step with two of my own. “They sure seemed to be having a grand old time yesterday. How do I know one of your contractors wasn’t so distracted that they left the window open?”
Although he keeps a safe distance, I can feel the waves of heat rolling off Julian's chest. I glare right back up at him, all too aware of the way his shirt is pulled tight over his clenched muscles, and the loose strands of his hair are blown around by his angry breath.
This argument escalated too quickly, and the mutual accusations hang heavy in the air between us. But underneath the anger and frustration crackles an intensity that has nothing to do with the morning's incidents. I can feel my face turning red, not just at the situation, but at Julian's unwavering stance and the embarrassing electricity humming through my veins.
Julian, with his furrowed brows and determined jaw, is undeniably attractive, even more so in the heat of this argument. I'm overcome with the sudden urge to close the distance between us, and it's strong enough that my hand twitches at my side and my knees literally tremble.
But I can't afford to do something rash. Like kiss him. Or slap him. Though both are fairly appealing at the moment.
My focus wavers as I struggle to keep my thoughts from straying further down that path. "My team wouldn't jeopardize the project like this," I assure him, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
Julian's posture softens slightly, but his conviction doesn't waver. "Neither would mine, Nat. You know me."
The tension between us begins to shift into something unpleasant that coils up in my stomach. Do I really know Julian anymore? It's been too far too long to know for certain.
Of course he's changed. Not just physically, but his whole life is different now. He's a dad for heaven's sake. Surely that alone is enough to shape him into someone else. Someone who's dependable, who’s not going to leave the people he loves behind.
Remembering how tender he used to be with me, I can only imagine how caring of a father he must be—an idea that, annoyingly, only makes him more alluring.
All of that, plus the fact that I can hardly control myself while I'm around him, is a dangerous combination. One I am in no position to play around with.
I take a step back, needing more distance to regain my composure, and the tension slowly dissipates. "Let's just check the security footage," I suggest, desperate for a break. "That will at least tell us if we need to worry about anyone on site."
Julian nods, relaxing a bit as we settle into an unspoken truce. "Alright, let's do that."
In the dim light of the security room, Julian and I lean in close to the monitor, the grainy footage flickering before us. We fast-forward through most of the night until the moment of intrusion appears, sudden and jarring.
A figure, dressed all in black with a hood pulled close around their face, appears on the screen. Coming from the door, they move with purpose through the Statuary, heading straight for my table. They linger there for a few minutes, doing God knows what to my equipment, before flinging the window wide open and disappearing down the fire escape.
"There!" I point, vindictively jabbing my finger at the screen. "Who is that? Can you tell?"
We both lean closer for a better look, my shoulder nudging Julian’s. We’re so close that I could reach over and touch that silky bun of hair at the nape of his neck. Run my finger along the sharp edge of his stubbled jaw. Trace the ink that dances over his neck and arms.
I need to get a grip. This is so not the time! What the hell is wrong with me?
Julian, oblivious to my inappropriate turmoil, squints at the screen, his brow knit in concentration. "It's impossible to see any defining features. The resolution's too bad."
I groan. “Can't you enhance it or something?”
Julian's eyes roll dramatically to me. “You know that's not a real thing, right?”
Frustration and embarrassment tangle within me, and I grasp recklessly at the only lead we have. "Look at the hoodie. That's the kind your guys wear, isn't it?" The accusation slips out, more from desperation than anything else.
He turns to fully face me, his expression a blend of disbelief and irritation. "Do you really want to get into this again?”
My mouth snaps shut, and he takes my silence as an opportunity to sigh and continue. “Natalie, half the town wears hoodies like that. I know we don't have much to go on, but that's not enough to consider it a lead."
The logic in his words does little to quell the rising tide of emotions within me, and I can't keep it from showing in my voice. "So now what? We just ignore the fact that someone is sabotaging our work because we can't make out their face?"
The tension between us sparks again, igniting with each word exchanged. That familiar undercurrent of something else—something that's been simmering beneath the surface since our encounter outside the diner—reappears, unwelcome and undeniable.
Julian's proximity, the intensity of his gaze, even in disagreement, sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. He's infuriating, yes, but compelling in his passion for the project, in his determination to find the truth. Not to mention unfairly sexy.
"I'm not saying we ignore it," he counters, his voice steady but vibrating with an energy that mirrors my own. "I'm saying we need more to go on before we start pointing fingers."
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away, leaving only me and Julian, and whatever this is that's pulsing between us. It's a dangerous game, this blend of conflict and attraction, and I'm treading a fine line between professional integrity and personal interest.
I didn’t even realize I’d been leaning closer to him, so close our hands almost touch. I wrench away, cheeks flushed, and fold my arms. How does he keep doing this to me?
"Fine," I concede, totally helpless to do anything else but agree with him. “But we still need to find out who's behind this."
“Don't you think we should let the police figure that out?” Julian asks.
“No!” The answer comes faster and louder than I intended as anxiety overcomes me. “A police investigation is only going to delay the renovation further. And if all of that gets back to my boss…” My face falls in my hands as I can't bring myself to say the words out loud. It'll just be one more thing that makes me look flighty and unreliable.
“Nat,” Julian begins tentatively, but I don't want to hear what he has to say.
“No, it's fine. Let's just deal with this ourselves, okay? Please?” I look back up at Julian, at his eyes flitting back and forth between mine.
Whatever he finds there must make him feel sorry enough for me to relent.
“Alright, Nat,” he concedes reluctantly. “Whatever you want.”
The rest of the security footage offers no further clues, its grainy images a dead end in our quest for answers. Dread falls heavy in my gut as Julian and I step out of the security room, the reality of the day's challenges looming large.
The sound of laughter drifts from the foyer, a stark contrast to the tension that's been building between Julian and me. Benny and Lauren, my assistant renovators, are already here, their easy camaraderie a reminder of the teamwork that's supposed to define this project.
My boss was kind enough to relocate them too, not that either of them needed much convincing. They’ve always loved the thrill of a new place. It is, however, just another reason why I have to get this right; they’re only here because of me.
Well, me and Hayden. Asshole.
Julian, noticing the shift in my attention, takes a step toward the door that leads outside to his crew. "We'll sort this out, Nat. Don't worry about the equipment; we can replace it if we need to."
I offer him a tight smile, appreciating his effort despite the awkwardness that seems to have taken root between us. "Right. Thanks," I offer tightly. “Not looking forward to telling them, though,” I add with a nod toward Benny and Lauren.
“You'll be fine. You've always been great at staying calm under pressure," he teases, amusement pulling at the corners of his lips.
For some reason, his playful taunting doesn't infuriate me this time. "I'll do my best," I reply good-naturedly, our eyes meeting in a moment of shared understanding before we part ways.
As I approach Benny and Lauren, their laughter fades, replaced by looks of concern at the sight of what must be my own unstable expression. "What's up, boss?" Benny asks, his lighthearted tone belying the worry in his eyes.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation. "There's been a bit of a setback. Someone got into the Statuary last night, left the window open, and... some of the equipment got rained on."
Lauren's brow furrows, her pragmatic mind already jumping ahead. "How bad is it? Anything we can't salvage?"
I shake my head, the extent of the damage is still unclear but not hopeful. "I'm not sure yet. We'll need to assess everything, see what's still usable. I wanted you both to know right off the bat."
Benny claps a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his ever-present optimism undimmed. "Hey, we've seen worse, right? A little rain's not going to stop us."
Lauren nods, her resolve strengthening. "Let's get to it, then. The sooner we know what we're dealing with, the sooner we can fix it."
Together, we sift through the soggy aftermath, the air thick with the scent of rain and damp paper. My heart sinks as I pick up my notes, the ink smeared beyond recognition, a tangible loss of hours of meticulous work. "Well, there go my notes," I mutter, trying to mask my disappointment with a half-hearted chuckle.
Lauren, undeterred, examines the biggest camera, her expertise shining through even in this moment of uncertainty. "This one's seen better days," she says, her tone laced with regret. "But the rest looks like it'll pull through."
Benny, hovering nearby, perks up at the news. "So, not all doom and gloom then?"
I allow myself a small smile, grateful for the silver lining. "No, not all doom and gloom. We got lucky, mostly."
It's at that moment I can sense Julian nearby, his presence filling the room in an almost supernatural way that alerts me of him before he even speaks. "So?" he inquires, his gaze lingering on me just a moment too long. “How bad is it?”
I meet his eyes, the connection sparking an unexpected warmth. "Better than expected.” I pull away from my team to talk to Julian without shouting across the room, and make sure to put my hands in my pockets before I get too close. “Most of the equipment is salvageable. So that's good news."
"That is good news," he replies, his face brightening.
The moment stretches as Julian doesn't make a move to leave, and I scramble to fill the gap. "I'm seeing Jack tonight. You two still close?"
His response is immediate, a cold wall slamming down. "Yeah, we're still friends," he says, the words clipped, final.
The shift is palpable, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Julian frowns and offers a quick, “Glad everything's alright,” before abruptly turning on his heel and striding off.
Benny, oblivious, breaks in with a laugh. "Man, Natalie, you've got it bad for Julian, don't you?"
The comment, meant in jest, cuts me to the core, leaving me flustered and more aware than ever of just how complicated this project is going to be.