"Smart. That makes him look mercenary instead of principled."
"My father is mercenary. Everything's transactional for him. Including family." Julian's voice was matter-of-fact. Like he'd made peace with it. "If we present this right, the other families will see him as someone who sold them out for profit. That's worse than being an ideological enemy. It makes him unreliable."
Our eyes met across the desk. Julian held my gaze without flinching. Without backing down.
God, he was magnificent.
"We're going to destroy your father," I said quietly. "Once this gets out, there's no coming back from it. The Bianchis will be finished. Are you prepared for that?"
"Yes. I've been prepared since I decided to run. This isn't about revenge, Elio. This is about survival. If we don't neutralizemy father, he'll keep looking for me. He'll never stop. This is the only way to ensure I'm safe."
"You could've just disappeared. Changed your name. Left the country."
"And spent the rest of my life looking over my shoulder? No." Julian's jaw set with determination. "I'm done running. Done hiding. If I'm going to have a life, I need to deal with the threat permanently. And this—" he gestured to the documents "—is how we do it."
I wanted to kiss him. Right there. Right then. Wanted to pull him across the desk and show him how proud I was of his courage. His refusal to be a victim. His willingness to do what needed to be done.
Instead I said, "Let's keep working."
But the tension stayed. Thick and heavy between us like humidity before a storm.
***
On the third day, we reached for the same document simultaneously. Our hands touched.
Just for a second. Just our fingers brushing as we both pulled back.
But electricity arced between us. Sharp and unmistakable.
Julian's breath caught. His eyes met mine. Dark and heated and full of want.
"Sorry," he said. His voice was rough. "Didn't mean to—"
"It's fine."
It wasn't fine. It was the opposite of fine. Every nerve ending was on fire from that brief contact.
We went back to work. But the atmosphere had changed. Charged. Dangerous.
Julian shifted in his chair. Our knees touched under the desk.
He didn't pull away.
Neither did I.
We sat like that for twenty minutes. Knees pressed together while we reviewed documents and pretended we weren't hyperaware of the point of contact. Pretended the tension wasn't building to unbearable levels.
When Julian finally stood to grab something from the shelf behind him, I nearly groaned with relief and frustration in equal measure.
This was impossible. Unsustainable. I couldn't keep working this closely with him while maintaining professional distance. My control was hanging by a thread.
Matteo cornered me after our third day of working together.
I was in the hallway outside my office when he appeared. Looked at me with those eyes that saw too much.
"You look like hell."
"So people keep telling me."
