Chapter 99: Is This Jealousy?

They’d seen Liam off when Julian caught Cora by the wrist and pulled her flush against him. Heat met heat; her breath hitched.

“What are you doing?” she blurted.

A wicked smile curved his mouth. “Isn’t that my question, Mrs. Watson?”

Every nerve in her body rang a warning. Too close. Too dangerous. Run. But his grip held, cool and inexorable.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, twisting once, twice—useless. “And I don’t—”

“Then learn.” He bent, scooped her up without effort, and carried her through the private corridor. Assistants dropped their eyes. No one dared speak.

He kicked the study door open, crossed to the daybed, and set her down hard. She barely had time to gasp before his shadow fell over her.

“Julian!” Cora’s pulse ricocheted. “It’s the middle of the day. You—”

“Cora.” His hand caught her chin, tilting her face to his. “Remember this. You are my woman. Don’t even think about other men.”

She shoved at his chest, useless again—her arms too short, his body too solid. Frustration burned through her; tears pricked hotly.

What is wrong with you?

Her eyes glossed. Something in Julian jolted. His fingers loosened, then gentled, brushing the wet from her lashes.

She wiped her cheeks herself, jaw tight, and pushed to sit up—only to find he still caged her in.

“You’re unbelievable,” she snapped.

Since the Dev family mess, he’d been… different. Sharper. Colder. Maybe this was the real Julian, and the poise before had only been armor.

He looked at her then—really looked—mockery draining from his eyes until what was left was intent, grave and molten. His palm traced the fine line of her cheek; his thumb grazed the warmth of her mouth.

The air changed.

“Cora…” Her name fell rough from his throat. Heat pooled low, loud as a drumbeat. Say it. Tell her you like her.

She blinked at him, thrown by the shift. What are you trying to say?

“I…” He swallowed, words foreign after years of lockstep control. “I—”

A knock cracked the moment in two.

“Who is it?” Cora called, too quickly.

“Jule…” Dina’s voice bled through the door, soft and pleading. “Give me a minute—please?”

Riley followed, dry as dust. “Sorry. I couldn’t stop her.”

Julian stepped back; Cora startled, then pushed upright.

“Come in,” he said, flat.

The door swung. Dina’s gaze darted to the rumpled bedding, and her face twisted. Her eyes cut to Cora—accusing, blazing. Liar. You said there was nothing left.

Riley clocked the same mess and almost smiled. Let Dina stew.

“What do you want?” Julian’s voice iced over. “Who said you could be here?”

“I’ll give you two privacy,” Cora murmured, already moving.

He nearly stopped her—nearly—but the bruise of their last fight throbbed between them. He let her go.

To Cora, the pause read like consent: whatever passed between him and Dina, she wasn’t meant to hear. Of course.

She caught Riley’s sleeve, stepped out, and pulled the door shut behind them.

Inside, Dina tried to reach for him. Julian sidestepped as if the touch repelled him.

“How much?” he asked, bored. Money was always the point.

Her eyes shimmered. “How can you say that? I can’t let you go, Jule—”

“Cora’s trusting,” he cut in. “I’m not. Spare me the tricks. I’ve been indulgent, not blind. There’s a limit.”

“Jule, you weren’t like this. You said you’d wait. You fought your board for me, refused to marry early. We were in love—how do you forget that overnight? I was stupid because I cared too much—”

“You care about yourself.” He laughed once, humorless. The man he’d been—a little—disgusted him now. “I thought you were different. Turns out you’re just different levels of shameless.”

Her mouth worked, empty of new arguments.

He folded into a chair, long legs stretching. “You wanted to ‘talk’? Skip the reruns. If you’ve got nothing fresh to say, we’re done.”

“Jule—don’t. We had something—”

“And in gratitude for the… gift you once sent to my door,” he said softly, “I let you move your pieces until now. Time’s up.”

He tapped a button. Austin entered on cue, impassive, and hauled Dina out despite her panicked protests.

To Julian, it was a non-event, not worth the report.

—

In the corridor, Cora exhaled. “I’m sorry,” she told Riley. “I meant to keep you here to relax, not drag you into…that.”

Riley waved it off. She’d seen worse. “We’re heading back soon anyway. The weather’s perfect—come walk the flower market with me. We’ll grab a drink at my place after.”

Cora blinked, surprised—and warmed. “You’re inviting me?”

“I am.” Riley’s mouth quirked. “And relax. My chest may be bigger than hers, but I don’t knife friends in the back.”

Cora’s eyes stung again, this time with gratitude. “Then… yes.”

They’d seen each other at their messiest and, somehow, chose not to flinch. Maybe that was the point.

Not long after, Julian gave the order to return to the city. By the cars, Dina hovered, lips parted on words she didn’t dare say. Cora glanced past her and told Julian, “I’m going with Riley to the flower market. I won’t take your car.”

Riley lifted her keys. “I drove.”

Julian’s eyes flickered before he nodded. “Fine. Austin will go with you.”

“No need,” Cora said. “I want to clear my head, not invite trouble. With Riley, I’ll be fine.”

She turned toward the sunlit exit with her new ally at her side, leaving Julian watching—and simmering.