Chapter Eleven
~ Connor ~
I followed Julian's wheelchair toward the imposing double doors of the Montgomery Industries boardroom, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
Everything about this place screamed money and power—from the gleaming marble floors to the hushed voices of assistants who scurried out of Julian's path like he was royalty, which, in this corporate kingdom, I supposed he was.
Me? I was the commoner who had somehow married into the throne, and judging by the curious stares boring into my back, everyone knew it.
The doors swung open silently—probably cost more than my entire college tuition—revealing a sleek, high-tech room that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie rather than real life.
A massive oval table dominated the center, surrounded by leather chairs that probably cost more than my first car. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a dizzying view of the city, reminding everyone present just how high above the ordinary world they operated.
The quiet murmur of conversation died instantly as Julian wheeled himself in. I followed a step behind, feeling painfully aware of my borrowed designer suit that Michael had insisted I wear. It fit perfectly—because of course Julian had a tailor on speed dial—but it felt like a costume on my body.
Twelve pairs of eyes swiveled from Julian to me, expressions ranging from mild curiosity to outright suspicion. I recognized a few faces from news articles and the company website I'd frantically studied the night before, but they were all strangers to me, strangers who held Julian's professional future in their manicured hands.
Julian sensed my discomfort, because he turned slightly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "You don't have to be here. Michael can take you back to the penthouse."
Something inside me straightened at that. I'd spent my entire life backing down, making myself smaller to accommodate others. Not anymore. Not with Julian.
"I'm your husband," I replied, matching his quiet tone but infusing it with determination. "I belong by your side."
A flicker of surprise crossed Julian's face before his lips curved into that almost-smile I was coming to treasure. He nodded once, then turned back to the board and smoothly maneuvered his wheelchair to the head of the table.
"Gentlemen," Julian's voice filled the room with easy authority, "my husband, Connor Montgomery."
The name still sent a little shock through me every time I heard it. Connor Montgomery. Not Matthews. Montgomery. Like I belonged to him, with him.
Miles Cranston recovered first, his eyebrows shooting upward. "Husband? When did this happen, Julian?"
I tensed, waiting for Julian to fumble through an explanation of our hasty marriage, but he simply fixed Miles with a shark-like smile that managed to be both charming and vaguely threatening.
"Personal matters aren't on today's agenda, Miles," he replied smoothly, nodding toward the empty seat beside him. "Shall we begin?"
I sat down, trying to mimic the casual confidence of everyone else at the table, though my hands were clammy beneath the polished surface.
Julian began outlining quarterly projections with practiced ease, and I found myself admiring how completely he commanded the room from his wheelchair. His disability seemed irrelevant here; his authority was absolute.
The momentary calm shattered when the boardroom doors swung open again. A woman strode in, and even if I hadn't recognized her from the photos in Julian's study, I would have known who she was by the way Julian's shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly beside me.
Elizabeth Harrington was exactly as beautiful as her pictures suggested—tall, blonde, and perfectly put-together in a way that made me acutely aware of my relative scruffiness despite the expensive suit. She moved with practiced grace, taking the only empty seat left at the table, directly across from me.
"My apologies for being late," she said, her voice melodic and cultured. Her eyes swept around the table, lingering on me with undisguised curiosity. "Traffic was simply dreadful."
I wasn't fooled. Everything about her entrance had been calculated for maximum dramatic effect.
After the briefest acknowledgment of her arrival, Julian returned to his presentation, but I felt Elizabeth's gaze boring into me throughout.
When there was a pause as Julian pulled up some financial data on the screens embedded in the table, she leaned forward, extending her perfectly manicured hand toward me with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"So you're the mysterious new spouse everyone's whispering about," she said, her voice carrying just enough to draw attention without seeming deliberate. "Julian always did have... unconventional tastes."
The insult was wrapped in enough politeness that calling her out would have made me look paranoid, but it was there, clear as day. I felt several board members shift uncomfortably, their eyes darting between us.
I took her hand, surprised by the strength of her grip.
Two could play at this game.
