Chapter 8 - Julian
By ten a.m., my office is already too full.
Elliot is sprawled in one of the chairs opposite my desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled, phone in hand like he’s half-present by choice.
Rowan stands near the window, arms crossed, gaze flicking between the city and the tablet he’s scrolling through.
Caleb sits on the edge of the couch, immaculate as always, briefcase at his feet, posture suggesting he’ll leave the second this stops being useful.
I’m halfway through outlining the agenda when the door opens without a knock, and my younger brother strolls in like he owns the place.
“Wow,” Theo says, looking around. “You’d think someone here worked for a living.”
Caleb glances up. “Do you?”
Theo grins. “Debatable.”
I don’t bother responding. “You’re late.”
“Dinner with Dad left a bad taste in my mouth,” he says easily. “I had to go out last night for a pallet cleanser.”
Elliot looks up. “How was it?”
Theo grins and responds, "She was magnificent."
And I respond. “It went as expected.”
“That’s not an answer,” Eliot says.
Theo drops into a chair beside him, “Dear old dad just threatened him with legacy again and heavily implied Julian's biological clock is ticking... You know who doesn't like a good talk about breeding and reproduction before the main course is served.”
Rowan’s mouth twitches. Barely.
Before I can shut this down, Elliot’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, then looks up, interest sharpening.
“Can anyone sit in on a meeting? We’re finalizing the internal holiday event,” Elliot says, scrolling his phone. “HR wants confirmation on the scope and senior management present.”
“Christmas party,” Theo says. “Call it what it is.”
Before I can shut this down, movement outside my office pulls my attention.
The glass wall gives me a clear view of the corridor, admins moving with purpose, quiet conversations near reception. And then I see her.
She’s standing near the marketing conference room, a folder tucked against her side, speaking with one of the senior admins.
Her honey brown hair pulled back in a low, messy bun.
She is wearing tailored trousers that hug every curve and a fitted sweater that accentuates her toned body more than her blazer did last night.
She smiles at something the admin says.
It’s not the smile from last night.
This one is focused, but competent.
My attention narrows before I consciously decide to let it.
Theo follows my gaze.
“No way,” he mutters.
Elliot looks up. “What?”
Theo grins slowly. “Tell me I’m not hallucinating.”
Caleb turns, eyes sharp.
Elliot’s expression changes the moment he sees her. Interest, immediate and practiced.
“Well,” he says. “That’s promising.”
"Sure is," Theo snorts.
Everyone looks at him, questioning, and he seems to be loving it. "She was at the restaurant last night. Julian couldn't keep his eyes off of her, stared at her like she was a hostile takeover.”
“Coincidence,” I say flatly.
Theo winks with a grin. “Or fate.”
Rowan doesn’t look up.
“She must be from the event planning firm,” Elliot continues. “Karen said she was sending someone senior.”
I didn’t realize my jaw had tightened until I forced it to relax.
“She’s leading?” I ask.
Rowan answers without lifting his head. “Yes.”
Theo’s eyebrows shoot up. “You know her?”
Rowan finally looks at me. “I know everyone who sets foot in this building.”
Elliot is already on his feet, smoothing his jacket. “I’ve got a meeting with a PR firm in five,” he says casually. “But I’ve got time to say hello to her.”
Theo stands as well. “I’ll walk with you. Moral support.”
“For flirting?” Elliot asks.
“For entertainment,” Theo replies.
I don’t stop them, I watch instead. Elliot approaches her with the ease of a man who has never questioned his welcome. She turns as he speaks, surprise flickering briefly across her face before professionalism settles in.
She smiles. Not the same smile she gave Graham last night.
This one is measured.
Theo says something, I can’t hear it, and she laughs, polite but contained. Elliot offers his hand. She shakes it. No hesitation. No nerves.
Caleb clears his throat. “I have to get to my next meeting.”
He gathers his things and nods once at Rowan before leaving.
Theo follows Elliot down the corridor, still talking.
The door to my office closes behind them.
It’s just Rowan and me now.
I don’t pretend anymore.
“Who is she?” I ask.
Rowan sets his tablet down and answers without question. “Lucy Bennett.”
I wait.
“Senior event coordinator,” he continues. “She has a clean record. She comes highly recommended, with a very strong reputation.”
“And?” I know he dug deeper.
Rowan is silent for a few moments, almost like he is weighing how much to tell me.
“She’s supporting her family,” Rowan says. “Seems like her mother is ill. Her sister’s in med school. She is the sole financial provider.”
I watch her talk to a member of HR. How she holds herself, how she listens intently, taking in her surroundings.
“Dig deeper,” I say.
Rowan studies me carefully. “Is this business?”
I don't answer him.
“Or personal?” He questions.
I sigh, still not taking my eyes off her. “I am not sure yet,” I add. “It could be both.”
Rowan nods slowly. “Then I’ll keep it contained.”
He leaves, and I turn back to the glass wall.
She’s already being led into the conference room now, focused, purposeful. No idea she’s being evaluated. No idea she’s already changed the temperature of the room.
My father’s voice surfaces uninvited.
"Variables are only a threat when ignored."
Lucy Bennett is not a distraction.
She’s a variable in motion.
And I don’t believe in coincidence. Something is telling me not to ignore her.
I move without thinking and find myself in the conference room. Elliot mentioned that management presence was required.
I decide to attend.
The woman at the head of the table stops talking mid-sentence.
Lucy senses the change in the room and her eyes flick up briefly.
Meet mine.
This close her eyes are so much more expressive, flecks of gold and amber balance out the dark brown.
The woman, I am assuming from HR, clears her throat, trying to regain her composure. "Lucy, this is one of our founders, Julian North."
She offers me a polite smile, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Mr. North, it is nice to meet you."
I don't respond or move in to shake her hand. I lean into the door frame and watch.
After a few awkward minutes of silence, the meeting gets back on track.
Lucy doesn’t look at me again; she is wholly focused on whoever is speaking.
Interesting.
I half-heartedly listen as they outline the event's scope, timelines, and deliverables. Lucy listens, nodding, already taking notes. When she speaks, it’s clear, confident, precise. No wasted words. No nerves.
She belongs here.
That realization unsettles me more than it should.
The woman from HR finishes her overview and glances at her watch. “I’ll let you all get started. Lucy will lead the planning.”
When everyone else leaves, silence settles, the kind that invites decisions.
Lucy doesn’t fidget. She meets my gaze steadily, waiting.
“Thank you for coming in on short notice,” I say.
“Of course,” she replies. “I understand the urgency.”
Professional. Neutral. Contained.
She walks me through her initial plan efficiently, anticipating my questions before I ask. She’s good. Very good.
When she finishes, I nod. “This works.”
Relief flickers across her face, subtle, quickly hidden.
She gathers her things. “I’ll coordinate with your team and send a detailed timeline by the end of the week.”
“Excellent.”
She leaves without another glance.
The door closes, and I let out a loud sigh.
I don’t move without information.
Rowan will bring me what I need.
I make my way back to my office and eagerly await the report on Lucy Bennet.