Chapter 112
Julian's POV
The call came on a Friday afternoon while I was buried in budget reports.
"Julian!" Zachary's voice boomed through the phone, way too cheerful. "I need you to come to my wedding this weekend. Beach ceremony. You in?"
I leaned back in my chair, grateful for the interruption. "Of course. Send me the details."
"Excellent. Also—" He paused. "Bring that girl. The one who had you distracted when you were handling business in Cold Creek."
I sat up straighter. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please. Ethan says you've been running yourself ragged over that girl lately."
Damn Ethan and his big mouth.
"She just lost her mother," I said carefully. "I don't think a wedding is what she needs right now."
"Exactly why she should come. Get her out of that headspace for a weekend. Beach, sunshine, people who aren't grieving. It'll be good for her. Good for you too—you've been working yourself to death."
I stared at the stack of files on my desk. "I'll ask her."
"Don't ask. Tell her."
"You're an idiot."
"Maybe. But I'm an idiot who's about to get married. Think about it."
He hung up before I could respond.
I sat for a moment, then pulled out my phone.
She wasn't eating properly. Was working herself into the ground trying to outrun grief.
Zachary was right. She needed this. We both did.
I grabbed my jacket. Left the office.
I drove across town to the NPR building, parking where I had a clear view of the upstairs windows. Sure enough, I could see Nora's silhouette.
I called her. She answered on the third ring.
"Hey. What's up?"
"I'm outside. Come down."
"I'm working."
"You've been staring at the same screen all day."
She jerked upright, looking toward the window. Even from this distance, I could see her scanning the street until she spotted my car.
"That's definitely stalking."
"I prefer 'concerned monitoring.' Come on."
A pause. Then: "Fine. Five minutes."
I waited, watching her shut down her computer and grab her jacket. When she emerged from the building, she looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, shoulders hunched against the evening chill.
She walked straight into my arms without hesitation, and something in my chest eased. I held her close, one hand cupping the back of her head.
"Long day?" I asked against her hair.
"Long week." She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. "I actually need help with something. Work stuff."
"What do you need?"
She explained after getting in the car. She needed a compelling interview subject.
"Does it have to be in Silverton?" I asked.
"No. Just someone making a difference."
An idea was already forming. "I might know someone."
Nora perked up, journalist instincts kicking in. "Would they talk to me?"
"Probably. I can set it up." I paused.
She looked up at me, wanting to say something, but I'd already opened the car door. "Get in first. I'll take you to dinner."
I didn't head for a restaurant. Instead, I drove toward the outskirts of the city. She looked confused, watching the buildings grow sparse outside the window.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll find out soon enough," I said with a smile.
Twenty minutes later, the car pulled into a small airport's private jet tarmac. She froze, staring at the white business jet on the apron.
"This is... where are we going?"
I got out and took her hand, walking toward the plane. "Tidewater Bay. Taking you out to clear your head, and handle that interview at the same time."
---
Nora's POV
As the plane descended, I was still trying to figure out what the hell Julian was up to.
The cabin door opened, and warm sea breeze hit me in the face, thick with salt and humidity. I walked down the stairs and only then realized that aside from the voice recorder and notebook in my bag, I'd brought nothing—not even a change of clothes.
"I didn't prepare anything," I turned to look at Julian behind me, my tone carrying a hint of complaint. "You just dragged me onto a plane—"
"I know." He cut me off, taking my hand and heading straight for the SUV at the edge of the tarmac. His palm was warm and dry, his grip firm and unyielding.
I instinctively tried to pull away—airport staff were still bustling around us—but he just glanced at me, his eyes soft with gentle light.
"Don't worry," he said. "I've arranged everything."
I opened my mouth, but in the end said nothing. Honestly, I should have been angrier about being "kidnapped" to another city without warning. But somehow, I just felt... whatever, there's no escaping anyway.
The car drove for twenty minutes before stopping at a beachfront hotel. White building, floor-to-ceiling glass, palm trees planted out front. It looked pretty upscale, but oddly—there wasn't a single guest in the lobby.
I frowned, looking around. Two receptionists, a few security guards, that's it.
"What's going on?" I asked. "Did someone buy out the hotel?"
"Exactly."
A man walked over from the elevator bank, wearing a Klein-blue linen shirt and white casual pants, a gentle smile on his face. He walked straight to Julian, and the two shared a brief hug.
Then he turned to me, extending his hand. "Zachary Nelson. Tomorrow's groom. Though today I'm more like the host of this little gathering."
It took me a second to react before I reached out to shake his hand. "Nora Grey."
"Finally meeting you in person." Zachary's smile turned somewhat mischievous. "Julian's been thinking about you constantly."
Heat rushed to my face. Before I could say anything, Julian interrupted coldly, "Zach, tone it down."
Zachary shrugged and gestured for us to follow him. In the elevator, he turned to me and asked, "I heard from Julian that you need a heavyweight interview subject? Once the wedding's over tomorrow, you can ask me whatever you want."
"Thank you, that's a huge help," I said.
"The hotel seems pretty empty," Julian remarked.
"I bought out the entire hotel to make sure you could come to the wedding. For the next few days, it's exclusively for wedding guests. No outsiders can get in."
He paused, glancing at Julian. "There won't be any media at the ceremony either, just two cameramen we trust. After all—you know, his position is rather sensitive."
Then he turned to me, his tone playful. "But you're an exception. You're probably the only journalist we 'can't control.'"
"I won't take photos, and I won't leak any information. This is a private event, I understand." I immediately made my position clear.
Zachary smiled. "I know. Julian wouldn't bring just anyone."
---
The elevator went straight to the top floor. As soon as the doors opened, I saw massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside was the endless coastline, though veiled by the darkness of night, and I could hear the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore.
"I need another room." Julian turned to Zachary.
"The hotel only has two presidential suites, and the other one is for me and my fiancée. But—" he pointed toward the depths of the suite, "this one has two separate bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. You can stay separately." Zachary raised an eyebrow.
"Then open a regular room." Julian frowned, his attitude firm.
"Alright, alright." Zachary laughed, spreading his hands. "As long as you don't complain that the bed in a regular room isn't comfortable enough."
"Where's your wife?" Julian asked flatly.
Zachary's smile brightened. "She'll be here early tomorrow morning. And—" he lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret, "she doesn't know we're getting married tomorrow. It's a surprise wedding."
My eyes widened slightly.
"She works too much," Zachary continued. "If I told her in advance we were getting married, she'd definitely postpone using some 'project deadline' as an excuse. So I decided to just 'trick' her into coming."
When he spoke about "her," his eyes were full of undisguised adoration.