Chapter Six
~ Connor ~
I perched on a stool in Julian's ridiculously pristine kitchen, watching him scroll through his digital planner with the same intensity generals probably use when planning invasions.
The morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making the stainless-steel appliances gleam like they were auditioning for a magazine spread.
Two days into this marriage and I still felt like an intruder in someone else's perfectly curated life.
"Your Tuesday is color-coded," I observed, leaning closer to peek at his screen. "Is purple for 'terrorize subordinates' or 'count money like Scrooge McDuck'?"
Julian's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "Purple is for board meetings. Red is for terrorizing subordinates."
"Of course it is."
I reached for my coffee mug—some artisan ceramic thing that probably cost more than my monthly food budget—and watched as Julian methodically scrolled through his day.
Each hour was mapped out with military precision, leaving no room for spontaneity or, heaven forbid, fun.
Unable to resist, I plucked the tablet from his hands, ignoring his sound of protest. "Let's see what the great Julian Montgomery has planned for today."
"Connor." His tone held a warning, but I detected something else beneath it. Amusement? Indulgence?
I scrolled through the immaculate schedule. "Eight-thirty, conference call with Tokyo. Nine forty-five, review quarterly projections. Eleven-fifteen, terrorize marketing department—oh wait, that's just 'marketing review.' My mistake."
Julian reached for the tablet, but I swiveled on the stool, holding it just out of his reach.
"Twelve-thirty, lunch with corporate lawyers." I wrinkled my nose. "Sounds thrilling. Two o'clock, budget approval. Three-fifteen, call with London office." I flicked my gaze to Julian, who was watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes. "Do you have bathroom breaks penciled in too?"
His eyebrow quirked up. "Only the recreational ones."
I choked on my coffee, feeling it dribble embarrassingly down my chin. Did Julian Montgomery, CEO extraordinaire and master of the corporate universe, just make a sexual joke?
Holy shit. Who knew he had it in him?
I grabbed a napkin to wipe my chin, catching the way Julian's eyes tracked the movement, lingering on my mouth a beat too long.
Three days ago, I was worrying about making rent. Now I'm married to a billionaire who makes dirty jokes over breakfast. Life comes at you fast.
"I'm sorry, did you just imply that you schedule time for... bathroom recreation?" I asked, unable to keep the grin off my face.
"Time management is essential in my position," Julian replied smoothly, but the heat in his eyes told a different story.
I suddenly became acutely aware of how underdressed I was in my jeans and t-shirt, sleeves rolled up because I'd been too warm in the perfectly climate-controlled penthouse.
Julian, of course, looked impeccable in a crisp button-down shirt, the collar open just enough to reveal the hollow of his throat where I'd pressed my lips last night.
Get it together, Matthews. Montgomery.
Whatever.
"Well, I'd hate to throw off your carefully structured day," I said, sliding the tablet back across the counter to him. "Though I notice there's no time blocked out for your new husband."
Something shifted in Julian's expression—a softening around the eyes, a slight relaxing of his perpetually straight shoulders. "I thought perhaps we could improvise that part."
The words sent a rush of heat through me that had nothing to do with the coffee. Before I could respond, Julian's phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced down at it, and I watched as his expression shuttered, CEO mask sliding back into place.
"What is it?" I asked, sensing the shift in the air between us.
