Chapter20 From now on, you only tie my ties
Chloe
The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, painting stripes across the tangled sheets. My body ached in places I didn't know could ache.
"What are you doing?" My voice came out hoarse.
He didn't look up, fingers tracing my forearm. "Memorizing. This small mole just below your elbow." His thumb circled it. "And this faint scar on your wrist."
I pulled my arm back. "Julian, we need to get ready for work."
"It's only seven." He reached for my arm again, but I tucked it under the covers. "I'm not done yet."
"Well, I am." I sat up, wincing. "It's my second day at Astor Capital. I can't be late."
Before I could stand, he was behind me, arms wrapping around my waist. "Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere." I pried at his hands. "Let go. I need to shower."
"I can help with that." His breath was warm against my neck, and despite everything, heat pooled low in my belly.
"No." I elbowed him gently. "We'll never make it to work."
He released me with obvious reluctance. "Tonight, then. A bath together—I'll massage out the soreness."
The image made my face burn. "We'll see."
I locked the bathroom door and leaned against it, heart pounding.
The woman in the mirror looked thoroughly ravaged—lips swollen, neck marked, hair a disaster. But there was something else.
A softness in my eyes that wasn't there before. I showered quickly and emerged in a crisp black suit, feeling almost human.
Julian was waiting in the bedroom, already dressed in a charcoal suit, fumbling with his tie.
I couldn't help it. "The great Julian Astor can't tie his own tie?"
Something vulnerable flickered across his face. "My assistant usually handles it."
I crossed to him and took the tie from his hands. My fingers worked automatically—loop, cross, pull through. Muscle memory from years of helping Ethan with school events. I smoothed down his collar. "There. Perfect."
His hand caught my wrist. "You're very good at that."
"I've had practice." I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.
"With who?" His voice dropped.
"Ethan." I didn't understand why he was suddenly tense. "He could never get his ties right for school functions—"
"Ethan." The name came out flat. "Your brother who isn't actually your brother."
"Julian, he's been my brother since he was born—"
"But not by blood." He pulled me closer. "You've stood this close to him. Touched him like this."
"It's not like that. He's family. That's all he's ever been."
"The same family that locked him up for three years because he stole money to help you." His thumb stroked my wrist, feeling my racing pulse. "I know how he looks at you. Like something he lost and wants back."
"You're being ridiculous."
"Am I?" He cupped my face. "From now on, you only tie my ties. Understood?"
I should have fought this. But the barely controlled jealousy in his eyes made something warm unfurl in my chest against my better judgment.
"Fine. Only yours."
Satisfaction blazed across his face. He captured my lips in a kiss that was more possession than affection. When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"We're going to be late," I managed.
---
Downstairs, Ethan was already at the breakfast table, stabbing his eggs with unnecessary violence. He looked up when we entered, and his fork clattered against the plate.
"Morning, sleeping beauty. Have a good night?"
I slid into my seat, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck.
Julian took the chair beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. A staff member appeared immediately with coffee.
"Chloe needs protein," Julian said. "Scrambled eggs, wheat toast, fresh fruit."
"I can order for myself," I protested.
"You need your strength." His hand found mine under the table. "Especially after last night."
Ethan's fork clattered again, louder. "Jesus Christ."
"Problem?" Julian's voice was mild, but there was steel underneath.
"Yeah, actually." Ethan leaned back, arms crossed. "You acting like you own her."
"I don't own her. But she is my wife." Julian picked up his coffee, the other hand still holding mine. "If that bothers you, feel free to eat elsewhere."
"Guys," I said firmly. "Normal breakfast. Please. I have to be at work in an hour."
Ethan's jaw worked, but he looked away. "Fine. Whatever."
The food arrived and I focused on eating, trying to ignore the suffocating tension.
"I can drive you to campus," I offered Ethan.
"I'll take her to work first," Julian said. "My driver can take you wherever you need."
"I don't need your driver." Ethan's voice was tight. "I can Uber."
"Ethan." I looked at him quietly. "Please."
Something in my expression made him deflate. "Fine. The driver's fine."
Julian's thumb traced circles on the back of my hand—a gesture that should have been comforting but felt more like a claim. When I glanced at him, his eyes were on Ethan, watchful and calculating.
I could feel the problem forming between them, in the way Julian's grip tightened whenever Ethan looked at me, in the barely controlled anger simmering across the table.
But I was too tired to deal with it now. So I ate my breakfast and let Julian hold my hand and tried not to think about how quickly everything was changing.
In the car, Julian's hand rested on my thigh, thumb tracing absent patterns through my skirt.
"About last night," he started.
"Julian—"
"Just listen. If I pushed too hard, if anything hurt—"
"It didn't." The words came out softer than I intended. "It was great. You were great. Can we please stop before I die of embarrassment?"
"One more thing." He leaned closer. "Tonight, I want to try—"
"Nope." I pressed my finger to his lips. "Not in a moving vehicle."
He kissed my finger, eyes glinting. "Later, then."
"Much later. After wine and possibly a lobotomy."
His laugh was warm and genuine, and something in my chest loosened.
The car pulled up to Astor Capital's glass tower, and reality crashed back. My husband was my boss. My boss was my husband. And last night would definitely have violated several HR policies.
"At work, we're professional," Julian said. "You call me Mr. Astor, I call you Ms. Harrison."
"I know. We went over this yesterday."
"And if anyone gives you trouble—"
"I'll handle it myself." I met his eyes. "I can take care of myself."
"I know you can." His hand cupped my cheek briefly. "Doesn't mean you have to."
Then he was back to CEO mode, face smoothing into professional neutrality. "I'll see you in the office, Ms. Harrison."
"Yes, Mr. Astor." I climbed out, legs still protesting, and headed into the building.
It was going to be a very long day.