Julian’s office always smelled like cedarwood, ink, and something colder—something expensive enough to not have a name. Ella stood in the doorway for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the sharp contrast of floor-to-ceiling windows and shadow-lined corners.
The skyline stretched behind his desk like an empire he owned.
The man himself wasn’t here yet.
But she had been.
Vivian Clarke.
The memory hit Ella before she even crossed the room.
Vivian leaning in.
Perfect posture.
Perfect lipstick.
Perfectly placed hand on Julian’s forearm as she whispered something into his ear.
Not intimate, not exactly.
But too familiar.
Too easy.
Julian hadn’t pulled away.
He hadn’t even noticed the way Ella stiffened beside him.
Now, hours later, standing alone in his office, the scene replayed with merciless clarity. Ella felt it like a bruise being pressed.
She walked farther in, her heels soft against the black hardwood, pausing at the edge of his desk—the one she rarely touched because it wasn’t just furniture; it was Julian’s world condensed into a surface. Files, deals, decisions, power.
A world she could orbit but never enter.
Her fingertips grazed the edge of the desk, and she exhaled slowly.
It wasn’t jealousy.
Not really.
It was the way Vivian looked at Julian—like she understood a version of him Ella didn’t have access to. The polished, corporate, razor-sharp Julian. The one who could dismantle someone with a sentence and build an empire with the next.
Vivian spoke his language.
Ella spoke photographs and colors and quiet things.
And Julian… Julian existed somewhere between them, unreachable.
The elevator chimed.
Ella flinched.
A moment later, Julian stepped inside, his expression tightening instantly when he saw her.
“Ella.” His voice dropped into that low, unreadable register reserved for moments he hadn’t prepared for. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I texted you,” she said.
“I was in a meeting.”
“With Vivian?”
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Julian paused. Just for a second—but enough.
His jaw tightened. “Yes. She’s handling the Mercer-Harrington negotiations.”
Ella nodded, though nothing felt resolved. “Of course.”
She tried to step back, to give him space, but Julian moved first—crossing the room with the silent confidence of someone who always knew exactly where he belonged.
“You’re upset.”
It wasn’t a question.
Ella lifted her chin. “No. I’m… thinking.”
“That usually means you’re upset.”
She hated that he was right.
She hated that he said it like it was fact, not feeling.
Julian’s hand brushed her arm, gentle, coaxing—but she stepped away. His fingers closed around nothing.
Something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Not yet.
Just confusion.
Frustration.
“Ella,” he tried again, softer this time, “whatever you think you saw—”
“Don’t do that.”
Her voice cracked, just slightly.
“Don’t make me feel stupid for reacting.”
Julian exhaled hard, dragging a hand through his hair. A sign he was losing patience—or control.
“She touched your arm,” Ella said quietly. “And you didn’t move. You looked… comfortable.”
“It was a work conversation.”
“I know.”
And that was the problem.
Julian’s world blurred lines so easily. And she was expected to just know which touches meant nothing and which words meant everything.
“You have to trust me,” he said.
“That’s the thing,” Ella whispered. “I do. I always do. But sometimes I don’t know if you trust me.”
Julian blinked—caught off guard in a way she rarely managed.
Before he could speak, her phone buzzed in her purse, breaking the moment. The sound echoed sharply in the glass-and-steel room.
She didn’t reach for it.
Julian did.
His gaze lingered on her face, searching for something he couldn’t name.
“Stay,” he said. Not commanding, not quite. But close.
“I’ll clear the rest of my day. We can talk.”
Ella shook her head slowly.
“No. I don’t want to talk just because you’re afraid I’ll walk away.”
For once, Julian didn’t have a reply.
Ella stepped toward the elevator, feeling his eyes burning into her back the entire way.
When the doors slid shut between them, she didn’t know if the tightness in her chest was fear or relief.
Maybe both.