Chapter 10 Cold Hands and Cat Fight
Elena woke to the sensation of warm hands on her face before she fully opened her eyes.
“Warm bear,” she slurred sleepily and turned toward the subtle heat.
The hands were gentle, almost reverent, brushing against her cheek as though she were something fragile and precious.
The touch was light and careful enough to pull her from sleep without startling her.
She stirred, brow furrowing slightly.
“Mm…” she murmured and leaned in with a smile.
“Sorry,” a familiar voice said quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you so abruptly.”
Her eyes fluttered open as she realized it wasn't a mere dream. There was someone seated right at the edge of her bed.
Julian.
He was already dressed in a crisp navy-blue tuxedo that clung perfectly to his frame. The arms outlined his muscled bulk, and the material seemed so expensive, making him look as though he had stepped straight out of a magazine cover.
His hair was neatly styled, and his jaw had a sprinkling of stubble.
For a second, she could imagine how slightly rough the surface would feel against her palms.
“Lena?” His soft baritone voice called her out of her drunken stare, and she flushed.
“I have a business meeting at nine,” he continued softly. “I needed to let you know I was heading out.”
She blinked at him, still half asleep. “Julian, what time is it?”
“Just past seven.”
She groaned faintly and pushed herself upright, the covers pooling around her waist.
She was dressed in a cotton nightshirt, and two buttons came open, exposing her shoulders and neck.
Julian couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“Will you be okay while I'm gone?” he asked after clearing his throat.
Elena nodded. “I'm not a child. I'll be fine.”
Then, as she shifted closer, her gaze lingered on his face, and she saw it.
Dark circles.
It was faint, but unmistakable, shadowing beneath his eyes.
“You didn’t sleep,” she said immediately.
“I did,” he replied too quickly, and she knew he was lying.
He stood, clearly intending to move away, but Elena reached out and grabbed his arm before he could.
“Julian,” she said, firmer now. “You didn’t come to bed last night. Again.”
He paused.
Slowly, he turned back to her. “Elena, I’m fine. I had work to handle.”
Her grip tightened, and she looked at him quizzically. “What is it about you?”
He stared back at her mutely. She asked quietly, “Do I disgust you?”
His brows knit together instantly. “What?”
“Why won’t you stay in bed with me?” she pressed. “We’re married. You won’t even sleep beside me.”
“Elena,” he said carefully, “I’ve told you before. You are the most attractive woman I have ever laid my eyes on. This has nothing to do with desire.”
She scoffed weakly. “That’s hard to believe.”
“What if I can’t keep my hands away when I sleep beside you?” He exhaled slowly. “Are you ready for that?”
The question landed heavier than she expected.
She opened her mouth, and nothing came out, because the truth was complicated.
Part of her thought she was ready. She was married. This was her husband. He was attentive, handsome, and unbelievably gentle.
But another part of her hesitated.
He was intense and mysterious, and there were pieces of him she still didn’t understand.
And stepping into that level of intimacy felt like crossing a line she wasn’t sure she could uncross.
Julian must have seen the hesitation on her face.
“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I won’t push you. I understand.”
She swallowed.
“That’s why,” he continued, voice calm but distant now, “I think it’s best we sleep in different rooms for now.”
The words stung more than she expected.
“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ll see you when you’re back from work.”
“I might be home late,” he replied.
She nodded, then softened. “Take care of yourself. And get some sleep when you can, would you? You don’t look too well.”
Without thinking, she lifted her hand and touched his face.
Her fingers barely brushed his cheek when she felt it: a deep, subtle vibration beneath his chest, like a low rumble.
Instinctively, he leaned into her touch, eyes fluttering shut for half a second, as though her hands stirred something within him.
The sight startled her.
A man so powerful and calm was leaning into her hand like he needed it.
She pulled away abruptly.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Julian opened his eyes, studying her with quiet intensity, but said nothing.
He simply stood and straightened his suit.
“I brought you breakfast,” he said instead. “I hope it’s to your liking.”
He wheeled a trolley toward her bedside.
The waffles were golden and crisp, the creamed coffee was her preferred blend, and fresh, neatly sliced apples and avocado filled the tray, prepared exactly the way she liked it.
“You know about it?” she stared. “This is all my favorite.”
“I know.”
She smiled faintly. “I would ask how you knew. But I guess you still won’t tell me.”
He returned the smile. “I’m your husband. It’s my job to know everything.”
He took her hands gently, pressed a kiss to the back of each palm, then turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.
Elena lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling.
The room felt too large and too quiet now that he was gone.
She eventually slid down and began to eat, but even the perfect breakfast couldn’t shake the sense of restlessness creeping into her chest.
The mansion penthouse felt too suffocating today, and she needed air and some hint of normalcy.
“A little shopping can solve everything,” she said excitedly as she got into the bathroom.
An hour later, after dressing quickly, she grabbed her keys and drove herself out of the Thorne estate, heading toward one of her favorite boutiques downtown.
The moment she stepped inside, the scent of polished wood and delicate, expensive perfume lingered in the air.
At least she was used to this.
“Welcome, ma’am,” the attendant said warmly. “Please let me know if you need anything.”
Elena nodded, wandering through the racks, her fingers brushing fabrics as she picked out a few.
She moved toward the jewelry section, eyes drawn to a delicate display.
Her fingers hovered over an elegant ruby necklace. There was a matching pair of pearl-drop earrings resting beside it.
She smiled softly. “Beautiful,” she murmured and picked it up, examining it.
“I love that one,” a voice said behind her. “I’ll get it.”
Elena froze at the familiar voice.
She turned slowly.
Camille stood there, perfectly styled as always. Beside her was an older woman who looked a lot like her.
“Oh,” the woman said, eyeing the ruby piece that Elena held. “My darling daughter likes this one. And whatever she likes, she gets.”