Chapter 650 Samuel: Regret Comes Only After Loss 3
Taylor woke to the press of Julian's lips against hers.
Her eyes fluttered open to find him freshly showered and dressed in a crisp white tracksuit, a faint sheen of sweat still on his brow.
He must have been in the home gym already. The thought of how much energy he had left after last night made her cheeks warm.
Julian seemed to read her mind. Leaning against the headboard with a slow smile, he brushed his fingers along the curve of her eye and murmured, "Was that enough?"
Taylor refused to take the bait. "I need to get up for work," she said lightly.
She had barely shifted before his hand rested on her arm, not with force, but with the quiet weight of a man who knew how to hold someone without caging them.
His gaze was deep, almost tender. "The snow didn't stop all night. There's a soft layer outside. Why not take the day off?"
She glanced toward the window.
Beyond the glass, the world was draped in white. Snow clung to the bare branches, tumbling down in soft bursts whenever the wind stirred. For a moment, she thought about Christmas coming soon.
Tempting as it was, Molly hadn't scheduled her a break today. Taylor had always been disciplined. She slipped her arm free and shook her head with a small smile. "When Christmas comes, I'll ask Molly for five days off. We can take Luna somewhere."
Julian studied her face. He knew she rarely took time off. Five days meant something. It meant he and Luna had a place in her heart. He bent to kiss her. "Good girl."
Taylor leaned into his chest, her gaze softening.
After a moment, he patted her hip to get her moving and headed downstairs to make breakfast. On a quiet snowy morning like this, he preferred having her to himself.
In the kitchen, he poured a glass of warm milk. The dark wood dining table held a cobalt vase he had brought back from a trip abroad. Taylor loved it, often filling it with fresh flowers when she visited.
The curtains were drawn back, letting the pale light spill in. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily. Julian sat in his usual spot, sipping black coffee while waiting for her.
About ten minutes later, Taylor came down the stairs.
When she sat, Julian slid the milk toward her. "You've got surgery this morning, right? Eat more. Molly told me you sometimes get low blood sugar."
Taylor sipped the milk. "She told you that?"
He only smiled. When she reached for a sandwich, he added, "After work, Luna and I will pick you up. We can have dinner with your parents."
The sandwich slipped from her fingers.
Julian calmly picked it up, set it back in her hand, and continued as if nothing had happened. "Taylor, I'm going to meet your parents sooner or later. After New Year, you should meet mine. Then both families can choose a wedding date."
It felt too fast to her. But Julian didn't think so. He wanted her, and she wanted him. Why wait? He wanted her in his home, in his life, every day.
Taylor stared at him for a long moment before taking a decisive bite of her sandwich. "Fine."
His eyes softened. He had expected to feel a rush of triumph, but instead there was a strange calm, as if this was always meant to be—their lives intertwined from here on.
The dining room was quiet.
Taylor ate with her usual grace until Julian leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth.
"Taylor," he murmured, "thank you for being here."
She wrapped her arms around him in return. "I'm so glad I have you,, Julian."
After breakfast, he drove her to the hospital. Luna was still asleep, so he headed back to the villa, agreeing to meet Taylor in the evening.
The snowfall kept the streets quiet, and the hospital halls were nearly empty.
Taylor stepped out of the elevator and walked straight into trouble.
Samuel.
She shot him a cool glance. "Is this about Thalassa's condition? She's doing well. If nothing changes, she can have the surgery after Christmas. The odds are good."
His gaze was unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. "You knew. Didn't you?"
"Knew what?" She pulled out her keycard, ready to open her office.
But Samuel caught her wrist. In one swift movement, he turned her and pinned her against the wall beside the door.
His voice was low and raw, like a wounded animal. "You knew what Zenobia really was. You knew she had a lover. You knew she never divorced her husband. Didn't you?"
The accusation in his tone almost made her laugh.