Chapter 30 - Julian
By the time Lucy leaves my office, my hands are shaking. Not visibly. Not in any way that would register to the men still standing in the room or the staff moving quietly beyond the glass walls. But inside, something is wrong.
Something has been wrong since the second she stepped out of the elevator.
I felt it before I saw her, that shift, that subtle awareness, like my body recognized her presence before my mind could assign it meaning. I don’t believe in instincts. I believe in preparation, leverage, and planning.
And yet.
She stood there in my doorway looking stunning and the first, unfiltered thought that hit me was:
I don’t want to do this like this.
That thought nearly undid me.
I almost stood up and told everyone to leave.
Almost asked Lucy if she was sure.
Almost told her we could wait.
Almost told her I would take care of her mother regardless.
Almost told her she didn’t need to give me herself in exchange for safety.
Almost dismantled the entire structure I’d spent weeks building.
But almost is a weakness.
Because once you let yourself imagine another path, you have to face why you want it.
And I am not prepared to interrogate why Lucy Bennett, standing ten feet from me, makes my pulse feel like it is trying to escape me.
She sat beside me at the table, close enough that I could feel her heat without touching her.
That proximity was a mistake. Her scent was inviting, familiar now, something floral but grounded, and it pulled at something in me I do not have language for.
I kept my hands folded. Kept my posture neutral.
Kept my eyes on the contract instead of on the way her lashes brushed her cheek when she read.
The way her eyes looked more gold than brown today.
The way...
I signed first.
That was deliberate.
If this was going to be done, it would be done cleanly.
When she picked up the pen, her fingers trembled.
Not enough for anyone else to notice. But enough for me.
She inhaled slowly before signing, like she was bracing herself for cold water.
She didn’t look relieved.
She looked resigned.
That should have stopped me.
Instead, I said nothing.
Because stopping meant acknowledging that I cared how she felt.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
When Claire returned with the officiant, I saw Lucy’s composure fracture.
Just slightly.
Her eyes flicked to me, wide for half a second, and I knew, knew, she hadn’t understood that this was happening today. Panic flared across her face like a fault line.
I could have stopped it.
One word would have done it.
Wait.
Instead, I asked, “What did you expect?”
The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back.
Not because they were cruel.
Because they were defensive.
Because they were a wall.
Theo said her name, softly, uncertain, and something about the sound of it from him made my jaw tighten.
Lucy closed her eyes. For a heartbeat, I thought she was going to say no. That she was going to walk out. That she was going to look at me and tell me she couldn’t do this.
And God help me... I would have let her.
I would have told everyone to leave.
I would have told her we could do this any way she wanted.
Courthouse. Church. Waiting. Never.
I would have kissed her right there just to feel something human again.
Instead, she exhaled.
And said, “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Those words didn’t feel like victory.
They felt like failure.
The ceremony took less than five minutes.
No music. No vows worth remembering.
Just legality and ink and inevitability.
When she signed the marriage license, it hit me with a clarity so sharp it almost hurt:
She is my wife.
And I have no idea how to deserve that.
I pulled the ring box from my pocket, something I’d planned weeks ago, something that felt absurdly small for what it represented, and that was when I saw her notice my hand.
The band I’d put on that morning.
Her eyes dropped to it, then lifted back to my face.
Surprise.
I took her hand, warm, steady now, and slid the band on her finger.
The engagement ring followed.
We were close enough then that I could feel her breath, could see the faint pulse at her throat, could count the freckles across her nose.
For a moment, a thrilling, reckless moment, I thought she expected me to kiss her.
I wanted to.
The urge came out of nowhere and everywhere all at once, visceral and urgent and entirely unwelcome.
I leaned in.
Then stopped.
Because if I kissed her, I wouldn’t be able to pretend this was just an arrangement anymore.
I stepped back, cleared my throat and said I had a meeting. Watched something shutter behind her eyes. And hated myself for it.
After Claire escorted Lucy out, I told everyone to leave.
No one moved.
Theo was the first to break the silence.
“What the hell was that?”
His voice wasn’t amused. It wasn’t playful. It was furious.
“You married her like you were closing a hostile acquisition,” he continued. “You didn’t even give her a second to breathe.”
“It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement,” I said automatically.
Theo laughed... once. Sharp. Disbelieving.
“You keep saying that like it explains why she looked like she was about to bolt.”
Caleb didn’t look at me. He stared at the table.
“You almost lost her today,” he said quietly.
That snapped something in me.
“I did not.”
Rowan finally spoke. “You almost called it off.”
I stilled. No one should have known that.
Theo’s eyes narrowed. “You almost kissed her.”
Silence fell hard and heavy.
I didn’t deny it.
I couldn’t.
Theo stepped closer. “You’re not cold, Julian. You’re scared. And instead of dealing with it, you shoved her into a box and labeled it control.”
I felt a volatile mix of anger, shame and something close to grief.
“She deserves better than this,” Theo said. “And if you don’t figure that out fast, someone else will.”
That did it.
My blood surged, violent and immediate.
“No one else will get anywhere near her. She is mine. My wife.”
Theo held my gaze. “Then stop treating her like she means nothing.
The door closes behind them one by one.
Theo last, lingering like he’s waiting for me to say something, or maybe waiting to see if I’ll crack.
I don’t.
I just stand there.
Hands braced on the edge of my desk.
Breathing through the unfamiliar pressure in my chest.
When the door finally clicks shut, the office goes quiet. No assistants. No movement. No witnesses. Like everyone knew to clear the floor.
Just me and the weight of what I’ve done.
I loosen my tie slowly, deliberately, like if I rush it something inside me might come undone with it. My jacket comes off next, draped over the back of a chair.
I cross the room and stop at the windows.
The city stretches out below, all steel and light and momentum, the same view I’ve had for years. The same skyline that used to make me feel untouchable.
Now, it just makes me feel… small.
I think about Lucy in my penthouse.
Our penthouse.
That realization feels different from what I expected. She isn’t a concept anymore. She isn’t a clause or a contingency or a carefully negotiated solution.
She’s a woman who signed her name while something fragile cracked open behind her eyes.
A woman who married me without ceremony, without humanity, without certainty.
A woman who deserved better than the version of me she got today.
I press my palm flat against the glass.
This was supposed to be simple.
Transactional.
Controlled.
Instead, every instinct in me is screaming that I’ve miscalculated something fundamental.
Not the optics.
Not the contract.
The human cost.
I don’t know how to be gentle. I don’t know how to let someone matter without trying to contain the damage they could do.
But I know with a certain kind of clarity that if I don’t learn quickly, Lucy will be swallowed whole by my world. And I will deserve it when she pulls away.
I straighten, forcing my breathing to steady.
This arrangement cannot be one-sided.
It cannot be survival for her and convenience for me.
If I am going to ask her to share my name, my home, my bed...
Then I have to give her more than safety.
I glance at my watch.
She will be home soon. She is with Claire, probably trying to make herself smaller than she needs to be. Probably convincing herself she’s fine.
I grab my jacket.
I don’t know how to do this.
I don’t know how to undo the damage I started today.
But I know one thing with terrifying certainty, I need to go home.
I need to make this right. And this time, I can’t hide behind the plan.