Chapter 34 - Lucy #2
Like he’s testing Julian.
My cheeks heat.
Julian’s voice is calm when he speaks. “Lucy has had a family medical situation.”
Graham’s attention sharpens. “Yes, how is your mother?”
“Personal information is not meant for the public, Whitaker,” Julian says.
A boundary, again.
Graham studies him a beat longer, then leans slightly toward me.
“Call me,” he says quietly. “When things settle. I still have that opportunity I would like to discuss, and I have information I think you should have.”
My stomach knots up.
Graham’s smile returns, bright and easy. “Enjoy your night.”
And then he’s gone, and I exhale slowly.
Theo leans in, eyes gleaming. “He’s like a shark in a suit.”
“He’s a philanthropist,” I mutter.
Theo grins. “Yes. A shark philanthropist.”
Julian’s hand leaves my chair, and I hate that I notice the absence of it.
I focus on my plate. On my breath.
On not spiralling.
This is fine.
This is just a gala.
This is just a marriage.
This is just...
A chair scrapes, the sound cuts through my thoughts like a blade.
I look up, and my stomach drops.
Richard North stands at the end of the table.
Julian’s father is exactly as I remember him, too smooth, too confident, eyes that sweep the room like everything is his.
Richard’s gaze lands on Julian, then drifts to me like I’m a decorative item someone added last minute.
His smile is polite. His eyes are not.
“Well,” he says, voice rich with amusement. “This is… unexpected.”
Julian’s posture doesn’t change, but something hardens in the air around him.
“Richard,” he says.
Richard’s smile widens. “Married, Julian. And without so much as a family announcement. Your mother was… disappointed.”
I hate that I care. I hate that I feel like I’ve already failed some invisible test.
Julian’s jaw clenches.
Theo shifts beside me, suddenly still. Like a predator pretending to be human.
Elliot’s smile stays in place, but his eyes sharpen.
Rowan’s gaze turns cold.
Caleb’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel something predatory in his quiet.
Richard looks down at me again, smile thin.
“And you must be...”
“My wife,” Julian interrupts.
Two words.
A blade wrapped in silk.
Richard pauses, mid-sentence, as if the interruption surprised him.
Julian doesn’t apologize.
He doesn’t soften it.
“My wife, Lucy,” he repeats, voice calm but immovable. “You’ve met.”
Richard’s eyes flicker, just once. A subtle flash of irritation.
Then his smile returns like a mask.
“Of course,” he says, as if I’m a name he has to remember only because it’s inconvenient not to.
He turns back to Julian. “You’re making quite the spectacle.”
Julian’s gaze holds his father’s. “I don't agree.”
Richard chuckles. “Everything you do is meant to be something.”
Then, casually, like it’s nothing, he slides his eyes past me.
Past the table.
To the dance floor.
My stomach clenches because I remember last time. The way his gaze followed Julian. The way it felt like a humiliation delivered with a smile.
Richard’s voice is light. “At least you’re behaving tonight.”
I feel Julian’s hand slide into mine beneath the table.
My breath catches as his fingers lace with mine fully.
Richard notices. His eyes narrow a fraction.
Julian rises from his seat.
The movement makes the air shift. The table quiets. People nearby look over without pretending they aren’t.
Julian’s voice is smooth. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Richard’s brows lift, amused. “Where are you going?”
Julian turns slightly, his gaze landing on me, and for a second, the room disappears.
His eyes soften, not much, not enough for anyone else to clock, but I see it because I’m starting to learn him.
“I owe my wife a dance.”
My heart does something reckless.
Richard’s smile freezes.
He opens his mouth to speak... probably to make a comment, probably to slice something open in front of everyone...
But Julian doesn’t give him the chance.
He pulls me up gently, steadying me.
And then he guides me away from the table like we’re the only two people in the room.
Like the whole world is just… background noise.
My pulse is loud in my ears as we step onto the dance floor.
The music is slow. Smooth. Something classic with a steady rhythm that feels like it was designed for men like him.
Julian’s hand settles at my waist.
My hand rests on his shoulder. The tux under my palm is cool.
He draws me in. The movement is practiced. He knows how to dance.
I feel my body relax despite myself.
I feel the knot that's lived in my body for so long loosen one breath at a time.
“This is… different,” I whisper.
Julian’s mouth curves faintly. “It should have been like this the first time.”
I don’t know if he means the dance or the way he’s holding me.
Or the fact that he didn’t leave me tonight.
I swallow. “Your father...”
“Don’t,” he says quietly.
His words aren't meant to be harsh... Just… protective. Like, he doesn’t want him inside this space with us.
I nod.
We sway; we move as one. The room spins slowly around us in a glittering blur.
Julian’s thumb strokes the side of my waist once, barely there, just a quiet touch that tells my body we’re real. And something inside me unclenches.
Because this... this is what I needed.
Not diamonds.
Not dresses.
Not contracts.
Just… this.
Someone standing beside me.
Someone choosing me.
Even if it’s new.
Even if it’s complicated.
Even if it’s an arrangement that’s starting to feel like something else.
Julian leans in slightly, pulling me in just a little more, almost like he doesn't realize what he is doing.
We finish the song, but Julian doesn’t release me immediately. He keeps me close as the music fades.
Julian turns, guiding me back toward the table. His hand stays on my lower back the whole way.
And I realize something, like a truth sliding into place.
Last gala, I felt like I was barely surviving.
Tonight… I feel like I’m being cared for.
And that’s the most terrifying thing of all.
Because care makes you hope.
It makes you believe you could be loved.
We reach the table again.
Richard is gone.
Theo’s grin is wicked when we sit.
“Finally,” he mutters. “I was about to start a riot.”
Elliot lifts his glass, eyes amused. “To the happy couple.”
Harper’s smile is gentle this time. “You two looked… good out there.”
Rowan says nothing, but his gaze meets mine briefly, and something like approval flickers there.
Caleb’s eyes move to Julian. Then to me. Then back.
Like he’s measuring whether this is real.
Julian pulls out my chair for me, and I breathe out slowly.
I sip my champagne.
Across the room, I catch a glimpse of Graham Whitaker.
He’s watching.
Not glaring.
Not angry.
Just… aware.
Like he’s taking notes.
Like he’s not done.
I feel Julian's hand rest casually on the back of my chair, his fingers settling under my hair.
And for the first time in a long time, fear doesn’t swallow me whole.
It just sits beside me.
Waiting.