“Do you ever picture that with someone?” he asked. “Or just alone?”
I shrugged. “I picture peace. Whoever fits inside that… can come.”
He was quiet for a moment. “What does that mean for a younger, emotionally volatile billionaire who loves you?”
I turned and cupped his cheek. This man had a face that had been beautiful since the day he was born. “He can visit. If he brings me lopsided cakes once in a while.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Deal.”
“Did you ever…” he hesitated. “When you were younger… was there ever a time you actually liked him? Alastair?”
“When I was fourteen and he was sixteen? Yeah. Hormones are a hell of a drug. He was cute, in that generic, privileged way.” I shrugged. “Then he opened his mouth. Or he’d do something cruel to the staff to make his friends laugh. The asshole was always there. You met him.”
Julian’s expression darkened. “A masterpiece of mediocrity.”
I nudged him with my foot. “What about you? Pre-me. Any serious girlfriends? The one who got away?”
He snorted, stubbing out the joint. “There weren’t any. Women find me… weird and domineering. Intense. They said I was a momma’s boy.”
“Wait, momma’s boy? Like an Oedipus complex?”
He glared at me.
“Explain,” I chuckled.
“My mother… she’s not like other society mothers. She built half of Esmé. She taught me how to read a balance sheet and a person’s eyes at the same time. We’re close. We talk all the time.”
“You’re telling me you’ve had sex with women, but never a girlfriend?” I teased him, a smirk on my face. “I find it hard to believe. Only one part, though.”
“What part?”
“That you’ve had sex with lots of women.” I gave him a mock-skeptical look. “You’re probably not that good at it. The word would have gotten out.”
I was pressing his buttons. He always fucked better when he was mad.
The effect was instantaneous. He was on top of me in a fluid motion, his weight pinning me down. I yelped, laughing, as his fingers found my ribs.
“Julian! Stop! I take it back!”
“Too late,” he growled, but he was laughing too. He pinned my wrists above my head. The playfulness shifted into something hotter. I could feel his hardness trapped between us.
“Not that good, huh?” he murmured. His hips pressed down.
A moan slipped from me. “I might need a refresher,” I whispered.
He was about to kiss me when my phone shattered the moment. I shoved him off and grabbed it. It was Alastair.
When I hung up, Julian was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting.
“It’s Alastair’s father. He was in a car accident. It’s bad.”
The world felt like it was spinning—slow and sickening. My chest went cold. I had been through this before. This was how my parents died.
I wasn’t thirteen anymore, but my body didn’t know that. My vision blurred. My fingers shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone.
“Elara.” Julian’s voice reached me through the static. “Breathe.”
“He—” My voice cracked. “He said I should come.”
