Chapter 318
[ 1,021 words ]
Julian’s POV
The Obsidian Lounge smelled of leather and bourbon. This wasn’t a place people came to be seen; it was a spot for those who already owned enough of the world to skip the audience. Low lighting left dark shadows across the black stone bar top, where the amber liquid in our glasses reflected the overhead fixtures.
I sat back, my hand resting loosely around a glass of neat Macallan 25, watching Wolfe try to fit himself into the scenery. He vibrated with a restless, hungry energy that the elite of Manhattan spent lifetimes learning to hide. He was a man trying to colonize a room that had been settled long before his ancestors learned to read a ledger.
“You’ve been quiet tonight, Windsor,” Jude said, leaning a forearm against the bar. He swirled his ice, the clink of crystal against glass. “A bit detached for a man who just spent three days on a private island with my wife p>
“I am never detached, Jude,” I replied, my voice level. “I am simply observant p>
He let out a dry, humorless laugh, but his eyes remained boring into the side of my face. “Observant. Right. Then maybe you can observe something for me. Because I’ve been trying to piece together a few things since I got back, and the math isn’t adding up.” He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving mine. “How long exactly has this ’London extension’ been in the works? Because I’ve been keeping my ears open, and nobody in the racing circuits or the financial press has heard a single whisper about a UK acquisition p>
“It’s a private venture,” I said, not giving him an inch. “The details are restricted to the principal partners p>
“Principal partners,” Jude repeated, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “Right. And Katia is a principal. So tell me, Windsor, what exactly does her daily routine look like when she’s handling these ’private ventures’ with you? What does she talk about when the door closes? When the two of you are sitting in a boardroom three thousand miles away, what is it that makes her completely forget to check her phone p>
I turned my head slowly, meeting his gaze. The amber light caught the edges of his manicured jaw, still faintly tender from the lesson I had taught him weeks ago. “She talks about business, Jude. She focuses on the task in front of her. It is a trait she possesses that you seem to find entirely foreign p>
“Don’t patronize me,” he snapped, his voice dropping into a low, jagged register. “I’m her husband. I have a right to know the parameters of her life. What does she eat when she’s stressed? What side of the bed does she sleep on when she’s in London? Because every time I ask her a simple question about her preferences, she gives me a wall of corporate ice. You seem to know the gaps in her armor better than I do. Why is that p>
I let the silence sit between us, letting his frustration pool on the black stone between our glasses. I took a measured sip of my scotch, letting the warmth settle in my chest before I spoke.
“You ask a lot of questions for a man who claims to have a history with her,” I said, my tone conversational, almost light, though the edge beneath it was razor-sharp. “The way you go about things, Jude… one might think you are an imposter pretending to be Katia’s husband p>
Jude went perfectly rigid. The glass in his hand stopped moving. “What did you just say p>
“I am simply evaluating the data,” I continued, leaning forward just enough to let my shadow swallow his side of the bar. “You arrived in this city with a great deal of noise, yet you spend every waking moment trying so hard to alter the landscape. You are trying to change Katia. You are trying to force her into a mold that fits your narrative, rather than accepting the woman she is p>
“I am rebuilding my marriage,” Jude said through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white around his glass.
“Are you?” I tilted my head, my eyes dropping to his jacket pocket, where the velvet boxes had rested earlier. “Then explain the performance tonight. You are trying so desperately to replace everything she already possesses. Specifically, the ring. The firestone on her left hand p>
Jude’s jaw worked silently.
“I thought you were the one who gave her that firestone,” I said, my voice dropping to a low growl that shook the space between us. “The story goes that it was a token of your long, meaningful history together. If that is true, Jude, why are you buying another ring to replace it? Why are you so eager to crowd out your own legacy? Unless, of course… you didn’t give it to her at all. Unless you have absolutely no idea where it came from, and its presence on her finger terrifies you because it represents a truth you cannot handle p>
The color drained from Jude’s face, leaving him looking pale beneath the expensive bar lights. For a split second, the polished facade cracked entirely, and I saw the raw, pulsing panic of a fraud staring into the eyes of the man who held the executioner’s axe. He looked at me, his chest heaving silently, searching for a lie large enough to cover the breach.
“You’re out of your mind, Windsor,” Jude muttered, abruptly setting his glass down with a heavy thud. He blinked, his eyes darting toward the back corridor of the lounge. “I need to use the restroom. Excuse me p>
He stood up, adjusting his clothes with trembling fingers, and turned on his heel to walk away.
I watched his retreating back, failing to hide the tense, frantic stride of a man looking for an exit. I set my own glass down, a cold smile touching the corner of my mouth. He was running out of track, and I had no intention of letting him breathe.
I rose from my stool and followed him into the dark.
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