Chapter 129
Nora's POV
"Your former supervisor," Marianne repeated slowly, her tone carrying a hint of doubt. "He just 'happened' to arrange a job for Lucas?"
This flimsy excuse wouldn't hold up.
I set down my fork. Just tell them. They deserve to know the truth.
My voice came out quieter than I expected. "Julian and I... we're dating."
The silence that followed was like a stone dropped into a deep pool.
Marianne's eyes widened. "Dating? You mean—"
I nodded in confirmation. "Exactly what you're thinking."
Marianne reached across the table and covered my hand. "Nora, sweetheart... this is quite unexpected. When did it start?"
"Recently," I said vaguely. "It's still new. We're both figuring things out."
"Does he treat you well?" Marianne's voice softened, concern replacing shock.
"Yes," I said quietly. "He treats me very well."
Lucas let out a long whistle. "Wow, I can hardly believe it. This is... pretty amazing."
Marianne squeezed my hand. "I understand, dear. But this is a serious relationship. Being with someone who has that much power—"
"I'm aware of the risks," I interrupted gently. "Trust me, I've been weighing these constantly. But Julian... he's not just his position. He's a complete person."
"Even so," Gareth interjected, "you need to be careful. Someone in that position has political enemies, political entanglements that could implicate—"
"I said I know," I cut him off, my tone sharper this time. "I'm not some clueless child."
The table fell silent again.
Marianne and Gareth exchanged a long look—that wordless, silent conversation between a married couple of many years.
"Nora, if you need help, if things get complicated, or if you need advice—come to us. Do you hear me?"
"I hear you."
Lucas grinned. "Honestly, I think it's pretty cool. My cousin dating the Federal Inspector General—that's straight out of a movie."
I couldn't help but laugh. "This isn't a movie, Lucas."
"But it's still cool."
The rest of dinner was filled with lighter topics.
---
The next morning, my phone vibrated at seven-ten.
Julian: Good morning. I'm downstairs waiting for you.
I couldn't help smiling as I replied: Coming now.
I'd just reached the lobby when another vibration came—an unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Nora." Kyle's voice was hoarse. "Thank God you answered."
I stepped outside into the cool morning air and lowered my voice. "Kyle. I told you we're over."
"For that man?" he asked angrily.
"What?"
"Connor told me what happened," he said urgently, words tumbling out. "About the island, about... about you and another man."
"That's none of your business."
"Nora, please—"
"No," I cut him off, surprised at my own calm. "We're done, Kyle. Stop bothering me."
"But I've been working desperately hard," he protested frantically. "I've been handling company affairs, proving to my father that I'm capable of taking over the family business. I'm doing all this for us—for you. So I can marry you properly, without needing—"
"Stop." Those two words were enough to silence him. "You're working hard for yourself, Kyle. To prove yourself to your family. Not for me."
"I love you."
"No," my tone was flat. "You love some fantasy about me. That version of Nora who could fit into your life without asking you to actually give up anything."
"Nora—"
"I have to go," I cut him off. "Don't call again."
I hung up and immediately blocked the number.
Julian had already gotten out of the car, leaning against the passenger side door with that quiet, focused expression he wore when he was worried about me.
"Who was that?" His voice deliberately remained calm.
"Kyle," I admitted. "He got a new number."
Julian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "What did he want?"
I crossed the distance between us, suddenly needing to be close to him. "Said he's been working desperately hard, that everything is for me."
"And?"
I looked up at him, at this man who had somehow become my safe harbor. "I told him we're over."
Something in his face loosened—relief, possession, and that protective instinct he tried to control but couldn't quite hide. His hand came up, palm gently cupping my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone.
He pressed a light kiss to my forehead, then opened the car door. "Get in. I brought breakfast."
Inside the car, the aroma of coffee and baked goods filled the air completely. A paper bag sat on the center console, grease stains already spreading across the bottom.
"Pistachio chocolate croissant," Julian said casually as he merged into traffic.
I opened the bag, rich buttery aroma hitting me in the face, but despite the tangle in my stomach, I still had a good appetite. "I already ate breakfast at home."
He glanced at me, corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "Then consider it a mid-morning snack."
I took a bite, the pastry melting in layers on my tongue. "This is really good."
"I know."
The SUV pulled into NPR's underground garage, harsh fluorescent lights replacing the soft morning glow outside. Julian parked near the elevator but didn't release my hand.
"I want to go up with you," he said quietly.
I couldn't help but smile. "If my colleagues see you dropping me off at work, the whole building will explode."
"Let them."
"Julian."
"I know," he sighed, thumb slowly rubbing across the back of my hand. "Nora—"
"I should go," I said quickly, hand already reaching for the door handle. "Don't want to be late."
But he grasped my wrist, gently pulling me back. "Wait a moment."
I turned my head, meeting his eyes—that direct gaze that hid nothing, making my heart skip a beat.
"Are we always going to be like this?" he asked. "Hiding and sneaking around, being careful everywhere, pretending to be just ordinary acquaintances in public?"
This question landed heavily. Because honestly, I didn't know the answer. Part of why things fell apart with Kyle was precisely because our worlds were too different—his family's wealth and expectations. Julian's world was even more complex, full of political minefields and public scrutiny.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I haven't thought that far ahead."
"I'll wait," his tone was decisive. "I said I would, and I meant it." The naked vulnerability in his eyes made my chest ache dully.
I wanted to say something, wanted him to understand that I wasn't unwilling to go public with our relationship, I was just afraid—afraid that after going public I might cause him trouble. But before the words could form, he'd already opened the car door.
"Come on," his voice returned to that professional steadiness. "I'll walk you to the elevator."
He came around to my side and opened the door for me as always.
We walked to the elevator in silence.
The elevator doors closed in front of me, Julian's figure disappearing in the metallic reflection. I leaned against the elevator wall, closed my eyes, trying to calm my emotions.
Am I running away?