Chapter 10 SMILE FOR THE EMPIRE
Eli’s POV)
When I woke up, the light hit my eyes so harshly I could've sworn I lost my sight.
It poured through the penthouse windows in a clean, merciless flood, banishing the shadows but not the memory of them. The blackout was gone. Power hummed again, steady and polite, like the world had reset overnight.
I hadn’t.
The metal cuffs still bruised my wrist, the faint imprint of his restraint stinging like a signature I hadn’t agreed to.
Julian entered the room as if he’d never turned it into a haunted zone the night before. Crisp white shirt, cufflinks gleaming, a tray balanced in one hand. Eggs, fruit, coffee — the illusion of care. Normality weaponized.
He set the tray down in front of me with quiet precision. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes unblinking. “You’ll need strength,” he said, voice soft enough to cut. “My world feeds on weakness. And my plus one can't appear weak.”
I stared at the food, at him, at the red mark around my wrist that is hurting thanks to the still present cuff. “Then starve me.”
For a moment, he just watched me. No reaction, no argument, and the silence itself was the punishment. Then he unlocked the cuff, slow and methodical, like defusing a bomb he’d built himself. The metal fell away and my skin burned with the ache of freedom.
“Brunch at twelve,” he said, as if nothing mattered but his schedule. “Try not to look like you’ve been fighting ghosts all night.”
“Brunch?”
“With people who don’t forgive rudeness.”
A knock interrupted. The door opened, and a stylist stepped in; immaculate, perfumed, efficient. Julian didn’t introduce her. He didn’t have to. She was here to make me presentable.
She set up her instrument or whatever while I go take a quick shower.
After the shower, I sat still while she trimmed my hair, buttoned me into a dark suit that fit too perfectly. The mirror reflected someone who almost belonged in Julian’s world. Almost.
Julian watched from the doorway the entire time, unreadable. His eyes were sharp enough to make even the stylist nervous.
By the time we reached the car, the city had fully awakened; glass towers gleaming, traffic snarling, the sky a cold mirror. Julian rested a hand on my knee as the driver opened the door. Not affectionate. Not casual. Just a reminder of control, of ownership, of the invisible contract I’d already broken a hundred ways.
And then, the flashes hit.
A wall of photographers and questions. Blinding white lights, overlapping voices — a blur of chaos.
Julian leaned toward me, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Smile,” he murmured. “You don’t want to start a rumor about how I'm allegedly treating you badly. Look like mine because you're mine.”
The words were poison in a fancy bottle. I smiled anyway.
\---
The restaurant looked like it had been brought straight out of a mythology— gold chandeliers, mirrors everywhere, the kind of place that whispered money instead of shouting it. Every head turned when we walked in.
Julian moved like he owned the air. I followed, careful not to trip over the invisible expectations clinging to me.
He introduced me to people whose names evaporated the second they shook my hand. Politicians, CEOs, their spouses… people who smiled with teeth but not warmth. They looked at me the same way people look at a painting they don’t understand but have already decided isn’t worth much.
And then she arrived.
Celeste Varin.
The sound of her heels hit like punctuation; deliberate and sharp. She wore silver that caught the light and perfume that arrived before she did. Her smile toward Julian was intimate, practiced. The one she gave me could curdle wine.
“He doesn’t bring dates,” she said, her tone silk with poison. “You must be… exceptional.”
Julian’s reply came smooth, precise. “He’s my husband, Celeste. Try to keep up.”
Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes did — just a fraction. It was enough. The murmurs started immediately, weaving through the glittering room like static. I could feel the curiosity tightening around me, the judgment sharpening its claws.
She ignored that and turned her attention to me. “Eli, right? You must be… resilient.”
The way she said it made my spine stiffen.
“Depends who’s testing that resilience,” I said.
Her smile sharpened. “Oh, I imagine you’ll find out. We had our time too, before you.”
Julian’s hand brushed my elbow; a small, silent command to walk. I didn’t move. The air between the three of us felt electric, charged with something territorial and unspoken.
Later, I slipped away, searching for quiet that didn’t exist here. But her voice followed.
“Julian’s charity cases never last,” she told a friend, loud enough to land like a slap.
Something in me cracked open. Maybe pride, maybe exhaustion. When Julian returned to my side, I didn’t bother hiding my anger.
“Your ex thinks I’m a charity case,” I said under my breath.
He smirked. “Everyone’s something to someone. She just hates no longer being mine.”
“Was she?”
“For a moment,” he said, taking a slow sip of champagne. “Until she mistook comfort for permanence.”
He raised his glass again, eyes steady on me. “To permanence, then.”
I didn’t drink. My throat had already closed.
The rest of the afternoon blurred. Small talk, fake smiles, food everyone pretended was delicious, cameras catching everything that wasn’t real. I could feel the weight of Julian’s world pressing in… beautiful, suffocating, inescapable.
When we finally left, the sun had dipped low enough to turn the glass buildings into molten gold. Julian’s expression was unreadable, his hand loose at his side as we walked toward the waiting car.
“That woman will make your life hell if you let her,” he said calmly as the door shut behind us. “Don’t.”
I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath, “As if you haven’t made it hell already.”
His head tilted. “What did you say?”
And then—
BANG!!
The car jerked, the sound shattering the calm like glass under pressure.
Another shot. Louder. Closer.
Julian moved before I even processed it — a blur of motion, pulling me down, pressing me flat against his chest. My breath caught, my body colliding with his.
The driver shouted something distant, muffled under the chaos.
Metal rang. Tires screeched. The sharp staccato of gunfire filled the air; relentless, metallic rain.
Julian’s voice cut through it, low and commanding. “Stay down, Eli.”
His heartbeat thundered beneath my ear, fast and furious. His grip was unyielding; one arm across my back, the other cradling my neck like he could protect me from bullets with sheer will.
More shots. The air thickened with tension and engine fumes. The car swerved. My pulse matched the gunfire; fast, wild, terrified.
Julian didn’t move. He just held me tighter, shielding, anchoring…
Outside, the world screamed and fractured. Inside, it was just his breath against my ear; steady, measured, terrifyingly calm.
And that’s when it hit me that he wasn’t afraid for himself.
He was being protective of me. But again, I wouldn't need pro
tection if it wasn't for him. I didn't have any enemies. He is in fact my only enemy.
The next shot drowned everything else.