Chapter 19 BOARDROOM POLITICS
By the time Eli stepped into Thorne Industries that morning, he already had the facial expression down: neutral, unreadable, slightly aloof. The look of someone who belonged there, or at least someone who wasn’t going to visibly panic about not belonging.
This wasn’t his first board meeting. Wasn’t even his second.
Julian had tossed him into this world like someone throwing a cat into a bathtub and expecting it to learn to swim through sheer shock. And Eli, in his own stubborn way, had figured out how not to drown.
Still, the moment he followed Julian into the glass-boarded executive room, the atmosphere changed.
Conversations hit pauses. Eyebrows lifted. Phones slipped subtly onto laps.
Eli felt the hush, the appraisal, the disdain… but he kept walking. Kept his chin level. Kept his steps measured.
Julian didn’t slow down, didn’t look back, didn’t so much as gesture. He simply expected Eli to follow, which Eli did, quietly taking the seat beside him.
“Let’s begin,” Julian said, voice smooth but already commanding.
The board members straightened like people trying to avoid sharp objects.
Eli watched the presentation start: charts about quarterly earnings, a dispute about distribution contracts overseas, some heated conversation about a merger that wasn’t going as smoothly as predicted.
He didn’t fully understand everything, but he understood more than he used to. He’d adjusted. Adapted.
Which was why, when the door opened and a woman walked in with the kind of confidence that could blister skin, Eli noticed instantly.
Maeve Strickland.
He recognized the name before Julian said it. She’d been mentioned before; Julian’s legal adviser, razor-sharp, rumored to be even sharper behind closed doors.
And beautiful. Painfully so.
Tall, sleek hair pulled back in a severe twist, red lips that could either sue someone into bankruptcy or kiss someone into oblivion. Eli didn’t need to be told people whispered about her and Julian. It hovered around her like perfume.
“Strickland,” Julian acknowledged.
“Thorne,” she returned smoothly, giving him a brief, knowing smile before glancing, very slowly, at Eli.
Her expression didn’t falter. It didn’t even twitch.
But Eli felt the judgment. Felt it like a pointed heel pressing against his ribs.
She took her seat, crossing one elegant leg over the other, and the meeting resumed.
Except… no one addressed Eli. No one acknowledged his presence. To them, he didn’t exist… or worse, existed only as a decorative accessory on Julian’s arm.
“Next order of business,” Maeve said, sliding a file across the table. “We need to finalize the terms for the Blackwell partnership. Their legal team is attempting to renegotiate—”
“They won’t renegotiate,” Julian cut in.
Maeve arched her brow. “You sound certain.”
“I am.” Julian opened the file, skimmed, then closed it. “They’ll sign our terms. Someone just needs to remind them which side of the line they’re standing on.”
“And who do you plan to send for that reminder?” she asked.
Julian’s gaze slid sideways. To Eli.
Eli nearly choked on air.
The boardroom shifted. Whispers. Raised brows. A flicker of disbelief.
Maeve didn’t whisper.
“You intend to send him?” she asked aloud.
Eli braced.
Julian’s tone didn’t change, didn’t rise — but it sharpened.
“I intend to send whoever I choose.”
Maeve spoke very carefully. “Julian, this requires someone trained in negotiation. Someone who knows when to—”
“I didn’t ask for commentary,” he said.
The room went still.
Maeve’s lips tightened, but she said nothing more.
Eli kept his eyes down. His skin prickled. His pulse thudded in his throat. He wasn’t sure what terrified him more; being used as Julian’s leverage, or being dismissed as Julian’s pet.
The meeting dragged on for another hour before Julian finally declared it over.
Chairs scraped back, papers shuffled, voices buzzed.
Eli stood, ready to escape into the hallway for a deep breath, when Maeve stepped into his path.
“Walk with me a moment,” she said smoothly.
He didn’t want to. Every instinct screamed not to.
But Julian was occupied with another executive, and Eli wasn’t looking to start a scene in front of the board.
So he followed her out.
They walked only a few steps down the hallway before she stopped, turned, and looked him over like someone inspecting a stain that wouldn’t wash out.
“You don’t belong here,” she said quietly.
Eli blinked. “I— what?”
“You heard me.” Her gaze was cool, forensic. “You don’t belong in that boardroom, in this company, or next to that man.”
The words cut deeper than they should have. Maybe because he already believed them.
Eli exhaled sharply. “Well, unfortunately, I’m married to him. So here I am.”
Her lips curved slightly. Not kindly.
“Yes. Married. A fascinating term for Julian to use.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Julian Thorne doesn’t keep things.” She stepped closer. “He uses them. And once he’s finished, he discards them.”
Eli felt his jaw tighten. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
For the first time, Maeve’s expression cracked, just faintly.
“Eli,” she murmured, lowering her voice, “Julian is not a man you want to belong to.”
His throat constricted.
“He doesn’t— I’m not— we’re not—”
She shook her head. “If you think this ends with you intact… you’re more naïve than I expected.”
Eli swallowed hard.
And then he felt a presence behind him like a shadow forming its own gravity.
Julian.
Maeve’s eyes flicked over Eli’s shoulder. She straightened instantly.
“Mr. Thorne.”
“Strickland,” Julian returned, voice low, polite, and absolutely lethal.
Maeve gave a short nod and walked away with measured steps that didn’t fool anyone.
When she disappeared around the corner, Julian didn’t move.
Eli turned slowly.
Julian was watching him, not in a soft or even angry way, but rather focused, assessing, and irritated.
“Julian, I—”
“Elevator,” he cut in. “Now.”
Eli went. Because resisting was suicide.
The doors closed the moment they stepped inside.
He barely had time to breathe before Julian pressed him back against the wall firmly, blocking escape with one arm.
Eli’s heart didn’t beat. It ricocheted.
Julian’s gaze was ice-sharp.
“Don’t let anyone speak to what’s mine again.”
Eli stared at him, breath shaking. “She cornered me.”
“You let her.”
“She didn’t exactly ask permission—”
“That’s not the point.”
Julian leaned in, one hand braced beside Eli’s head, the other sliding to Eli’s jaw with a slow, claiming hold.
“What’s the point then?” Eli whispered.
“That you don’t defend yourself. Not properly. Not against her. Not against anyone.” His thumb pressed against Eli’s chin, guiding his gaze upward. “If someone wants to tell you what I am or what I’m not, you come to me. Not them.”
Eli swallowed. “Julian—”
“Do you understand?”
“I— I think so.”
“Think?” Julian echoed, eyes narrowing.
Eli’s pulse jumped. “Yes,” he corrected quickly. “I understand.”
Julian stared at him another second, one second too long, before releasing him.
But he didn’t step back to give space.
He simply lowered his voice to something quieter, more cutting.
“You do belong in that room,” he said. “Because I put you there. No one else decides that. Certainly not Maeve.”
Eli’s breath hitched. He hates that he's dealing with this.
Julian added, almost lazily:
“And if a
nyone tries to tell you otherwise again, I’ll ruin their lives.”
The elevator chimed.
The doors opened.
Julian stepped out first.
Eli followed… confused, shaken, and more trapped than ever.