Chapter 38
Katherine
A low hum of jazz drifted through the walls, smooth as aged velvet—unhurried, intimate, the kind of music that made people lean closer without realizing it.
Whiskey, cognac, and brandy glowed in cut crystal glasses, rich and inviting, as if each had stories of its own.
The lighting hovered between presence and absence, shadows curling into corners like secrets long past due.
Katherine entered with calculated grace, as though each step had been mapped in her mind for days.
Power draped her form like liquid armor—stilettos that could pierce intentions, features carved by ambition rather than genetics, and a dress tailored to her body with such precision it felt like a beautiful threat. She moved with unflinching confidence. At least at first.
Her gaze dissected the room with clinical detachment—until it collided with him.
Ben.
Corner booth. Back rigid, jaw set, every inch of him wound tight beneath that faultless suit. He looked like a statue sculpted from pressure—classic, broad-shouldered, the kind of presence that demanded attention without asking for it.
But he wasn’t in control.
Not tonight.
Then her gaze shifted.
And everything slowed.
Julian sat across from Ben—legs casually crossed, one arm draped over the back of the booth like he owned the whole fucking building.
The resemblance was there, unmistakable.
The same sculpted cheekbones, the same precision-cut jawline.
But while Ben burned like a furnace behind locked doors, Julian radiated cold.
Ice-blue eyes—no, not even blue. Gray, like winter mornings. Sharp. Empty.
He was slighter than Ben. Leaner. More angular. Where Ben looked like a man who'd been built to hold weight, Julian looked like he’d never touched it. There was something deliberately unfinished about him, like he’d stepped out of a dream and hadn’t decided yet if it was going to be a nightmare.
He was already watching her.
Not glancing. Not idly observing.
Watching.
Like he was reading her mind in real time, file by file.
And suddenly, she understood.
Why Ben had been so tense. So rigid. Why his control had frayed at the edges the moment this meeting came up.
Because Julian wasn’t just dangerous.
He was the kind of man who never had to raise his voice to break someone in two.
Ben gestured her over—short, sharp, a signal.
Kath feels her pulse quicken, but her face betrays nothing. This is what she wanted—what they needed. Another angle. Another weapon. But now that she's here, something cold settles in her stomach.
She moves, slides into the booth. Not too fast. Not too casual. Controlled. Calculated.
The second she sits—Julian turns.
His eyes flick over her like a scanner.
"So..." Julian leaned forward, voice smooth with a glint of teeth, "you're the reason Ben hasn’t been sleeping."
Katherine didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. She met his gaze head-on, cool and unbothered. This was a game—and she knew the rules.
She leaned forward just slightly, mirroring him—not submissive, not defensive. Just... equal. Calculated.
"I thought he didn’t have weaknesses," she said dryly, a hint of amusement tugging at her mouth.
From her side, Ben shifted—not dramatically, but enough.
A slow inhale that never quite made it to his lungs. His eyes locked on the glass in front of him, but his attention was fixed elsewhere.
Julian clocked it. His eyes flicked to his brother, and for a split second, his grin sharpened. Not joy—something more twisted. Like watching a crack form in polished marble.
"Oh, he does," he said, turning back to her, voice dipping just enough to make it dangerous. "He just likes to pretend he doesn’t."
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was loaded. Julian’s gaze roamed, slow and intentional, as if he were mapping her edges, looking for fault lines.
"But you already knew that... didn’t you?"
The way he said it was deliberate. Not loud. Not crude.
Just enough weight behind it to make the implication hit.
Katherine felt the tension beside her, radiating off Ben.
He didn’t move, but she could feel the shift in his posture.
She noted it—catalogued it—but didn’t rise to it.
She crossed her legs, laced her fingers on the table, and gave Julian a slow, razor-edged smile—like she was settling in.
Like she’d brought sharper teeth to the table.
Julian reclined with the kind of practiced elegance that came from never having to apologize for anything. The smirk.
The voice. That lazy amusement curling at the corner of his mouth, like he was already five moves ahead.
"Blondie, huh?" he said, swirling the ice in his glass. "Didn’t see that one coming."
The name hit like a slap wrapped in velvet. Her fingers tightened around her glass. She didn’t flinch, blinked slowly. Once.
"Excuse me?" Her tone was clipped, precise—a scalpel, not a question.
Julian cocked his head, smile sharpening. He didn’t answer. Just watched her. Not like a man admiring a beautiful woman, but like a strategist evaluating a piece on the board. Wondering how much it might cost to sacrifice it.
Ben shifted beside her, the tension in his frame coiled and precise—like a man ready for a blow he’d already chosen to absorb. His posture remained composed, but his attention angled toward her now, steady and unspoken.
"Julian has a habit of keeping tabs on me," he said, eyes fixed on the table. "Comes with the job."
Katherine’s head snapped slightly to the side, eyes narrowing.
"You ran a background check on me?"Her voice cracked like a whip—sharp, incredulous, dangerous.
"Sweetheart," he said, smooth but a little too fond, like he was reminiscing about something fragile and broken, "I look into everyone who gets close to my brother."
He leaned in now, elbows on the table, eyes catching the low light just right—reflecting sharp and pale, more wolf than man. His grin stretched a little too wide. A little too pleased.
"Call it a habit. A hobby. Maybe I just have a soft spot for Ben. Always have. It’s weird, right?" His head tilted, studying her like she was a riddle he’d already solved. "He lets the wrong people in. Always has. And I like... knowing about them."
A beat. Then he lifted his glass slightly, like he was toasting some private joke only he was in on. "Occupational hazard."
The silence that followed was tight. Intimate. A trap disguised as conversation.
Katherine didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. She just tilted her head—mirroring him—and let her lips curl into something deceptively warm.
A smile made of glass and teeth.
"That’s cute," she said sweetly. "Obsessing over your big brother like that."
She leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper meant just for him.
"Should I be jealous?" Her lashes lifted slowly, deliberately. "Or just deeply, deeply concerned?"
For a fraction of a second—less than a breath—Julian’s smirk twitched. His eyes flicked, just a beat too slow. And something cold slid behind his expression like a shadow shifting in the dark.
Ben let out a breath beside her—tight, sharp, like he’d swallowed something sideways.
But Julian? He didn’t blink.
He just sat there, smiling like the world was a chessboard and she'd finally moved a pawn into range.
And for the first time, Katherine felt it.
Not just the chill.
The risk.
Because maybe she’d landed a hit.
Or maybe?
She’d just earned his full attention.
Katherine narrowed her eyes, posture shifting ever so slightly. Not retreat—adjustment. The initial jolt of hearing her stage name faded, replaced by sharp, strategic clarity.
This wasn’t just conversation anymore.
"And what exactly is your occupation?" she asked coolly, voice clean as glass but edged like the stem of a broken one.
The grin that spread across Julian’s face was slow and dangerous. Not warmth. Not charm. Something slicker, darker—like oil sliding across water.
"Let’s just say I deal in secrets," he said, almost purring the words. They slid across the space between them with deliberate ease.
He leaned forward—closer, smoother than gravity allowed. The motion was sinuous, controlled, predatory. His voice dropped low, intimate.
"And yours?" The glint in his eyes was too sharp to be amusement. "They’re delicious."
A slow shiver traced down her spine.
The shift beside her wasn’t large, but it was definitive.
Ben set his glass down—hard. Not enough to shatter it, but enough to make it known. The sound cracked like punctuation in the charged air.
When he finally spoke, the words came low and deliberate, each syllable carved from stone.
“Are you finished?”
No blink. No reaction.
The stare from across the table didn’t waver. Julian’s eyes stayed locked on her, treating Ben’s voice like elevator music—faint, ignorable, irrelevant.
"Relax, big brother," Julian murmured, lips curling into something just shy of sinister. "I’m just getting to know her."
Julian leaned in further, his voice dropping into something intimate. Too intimate. Like they were sharing secrets in a bedroom rather than a bar.
"Tell me something, Winters—" his eyes gleamed with malicious curiosity. "Did you enjoy having him watch you?"
She froze. The words hit like a slap across the face.
Not because of what he said—but because of how he said it. Straight to the vein. He hadn’t guessed—he’d known.
"What?" Her voice came out low, dangerous.
Julian drummed his fingers against the table. Lazy. Pleased.
"On that stage. The way he looked at you." His tone slithered between them. "You must have felt it."
Her pulse spiked—rage, sharp and sudden, rising like bile in her throat. He was baiting her. Poking every raw nerve with precision.
But before she could spit something back—
"Or was it better..." Julian’s voice dipped again, smooth, soft, "when you were on your knees for him?"
Katherine’s head snapped toward Ben, fury exploding behind her eyes.
"You told him?" she demanded, voice cracking like a whip. Loud enough to turn heads if anyone had been close enough to hear.