Chapter 20 THE GALA & THE FIRST SCANDAL
Eli wasn’t sure when he started expecting Julian’s staff to materialize like ghosts, but the moment he stepped out of the bedroom, a tailor was already waiting, pins glinting between his teeth.
“Stand still,” the man said. “Mr. Thorne wants the tux to sit perfectly.”
Julian always wanted everything perfect.
Including Eli.
Especially Eli.
By the time Eli arrived downstairs, Julian was already dressed in black velvet tux, hair slicked back, cufflinks glinting like a warning. He didn’t look at Eli at first. He let his gaze travel, slow and assessing, from Eli’s polished shoes to the sharp lines of the suit.
“Good,” Julian murmured. “At least you look like you belong on my arm.”
Compliment or critique? Eli couldn’t quite tell anymore.
Julian stepped closer, adjusting Eli’s tie with a kind of possessive precision. His fingers brushed Eli’s pulse. Eli swallowed.
“There are rules for tonight,” Julian said, tone low enough to be mistaken for intimate. “Listen carefully.”
Eli stiffened.
Of course there were rules.
Julian ticked them off with a smooth, merciless calm:
“Rule one: Smile. This is a gala, not a hostage negotiation.”
“Rule two: Speak only when spoken to.”
“Rule three: Don’t wander off. Stay where I place you.”
Eli blinked.
“Place me? Julian, I’m not—”
Julian’s fingers curled around Eli’s chin, firm enough to silence him.
“You promised to make things easier,” Julian murmured. “Don’t start breaking that now.”
Eli said nothing. What else could he do?
Julian smirked, satisfied.
“Good boy.”
\---
The gala unfolded inside the Crystal Atrium: glass ceilings, chandeliers dripping light, gowns that screamed old money, and tuxedos lined with discreet power. Violins thrummed above the chatter.
Eli felt eyes turning his way the moment he stepped in beside Julian. The whispers followed immediately:
“That’s the husband.”
“He’s so young.”
“Is Julian collecting strays now?”
Julian either didn’t hear or didn’t care.
Probably both.
He placed a hand on Eli’s lower back, guiding him through the room like a possession on display. Eli kept the polite smile plastered on, nodding when Julian introduced him to donors, balding politicians, and people whose smiles had blades behind them.
Eli stayed exactly where Julian placed him.
Mostly.
Until a waiter passed behind Eli with champagne, and Eli—dry-throated and overwhelmed—took a half step to the side to reach a glass.
One half step.
One.
“Careful,” someone drawled behind him. “Wouldn’t want to break any rules.”
Eli turned to see the man; tall, broad-shouldered, mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a smile that didn’t reach his calculating eyes.
“Desmond Hale,” he said, extending a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Eli shook it warily.
Desmond’s gaze sharpened.
“You look just like him,” he murmured.
Eli blinked. “I—I’m sorry?”
Desmond leaned in, voice dropping with a familiarity that sent a small shiver down Eli’s spine.
“Your father.”
Eli’s breath caught.
His heartbeat stuttered.
“My—my father?”
Desmond chuckled at the confusion. “Of course. That man was unforgettable.”
Eli’s throat went dry. He opened his mouth—
But a hand snapped around his wrist.
Julian.
“Desmond,” Julian said coldly. “You’re out of place.”
Desmond raised both brows. “Just making conversation.”
“You don’t make conversation with him.”
Julian stepped between them like a shield made of blade and fury.
“Not ever.”
Desmond held Julian’s stare for a long, electric moment of two predators sizing each other up under the glitter of chandeliers. Then he smiled, slow and mocking.
“Possessive tonight, Julian?”
“I don’t share.”
Desmond’s smile widened. “I can see that.”
He walked away with deliberate leisure.
Eli stared after him, pulse still skittering.
“What—what did he mean? My father—”
“Not here.”
Julian’s grip tightened around his wrist. “We’re leaving.”
“But Julian, you said we had to—”
“Now, Eli.”
Julian’s expression wasn’t angry.
It was lethal.
Eli’s stomach twisted.
\---
The problem with leaving a gala early was the paparazzi stationed like vultures outside. The moment Julian dragged Eli through the doors, still gripping his wrist like steel, the cameras flashed.
The recording started with Julian’s furious expression.
It ended with Eli stumbling after him, eyes wide.
By morning, the video had gone viral.
ABUSIVE BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND?
Julian Thorne Seen Manhandling His Young Spouse at Charity Gala
Comment sections tore Julian apart.
Talk shows dissected the video.
Hashtags formed.
People demanded investigations.
Eli sat on the edge of the bed, phone trembling in his hand.
“That’s—Julian, I didn't mean for this to happen. I wasn’t—It wasn’t—”
Julian stood by the window, unbothered, pouring himself coffee like nothing in the world was on fire.
“I don’t care about the scandal.”
Eli’s head snapped up.
“You’re the one being accused!”
“I said I don’t care.”
Eli stared.
Julian finally looked at him with a cold, razor-edged calm Eli had only seen once before.
“I’m angry about something else.”
The room went still.
Something about his voice being so quiet and deadly made Eli’s stomach drop.
“Something else?” Eli whispered.
Julian set his coffee down, walked toward him slowly, like a man approaching prey.
“That man recognized you,” Julian said.
“Recognized you too well. He must be up to something.”
Eli’s mouth dried.
“I—Julian, what is going on? What did he mean about my father?”
Julian crouched in front of him, expression unreadable.
“You don’t get to know that yet.”
Frustration flared within Eli.
“Julian—”
Julian placed two fingers against Eli’s lips, silencing him.
“Eli,” he said softly, “listen to me very carefully.”
Eli swallowed, heart slamming against his ribs.
“You are not safe around men like Desmond Hale,” Julian murmured.
“And if he sees you again… if anyone from that era sees you…”
His jaw tightened.
“It will ruin everything.”
Eli felt cold all over.
“What era? Julian—what are you talking about?”
Julian didn’t answer.
He just cupped Eli’s jaw in a surprisingly gentle hold, thumb brushing the skin under his ear.
“You stay beside me,” Julian said.
“You follow my rules.”
His gaze darkened.
“Or I won’t be able to protect you.”
Eli exhaled shakily. “Protect me from what?”
Julian’s stare was a wall.
“From your past.”
Eli felt the floor tilt beneath him.
“My—my past? Julian, my father is dead.”
Julian’s silence was the loudest thing in the room.
Eli’s breath hitched.
“You… you know something.”
Julian didn’t deny it.
Panic flickered across Eli’s face.
“Julian—tell me. Tell me what’s happening. Who was my father to him and you?”
Julian leaned in, lips brushing Eli’s ear in a whisper meant to both soothe and possess:
“Your father,” he murmured, “was the reason I married you.”
Eli’s entire world stopped.
Julian pulled back, brushing a thumb across Eli’s mouth as though calming a startled animal.
“And I promise you, darling—”
His voice softened into something dangerous.
“—you’ll wish he stayed forgotten.”
Eli’s pulse thundered.
The scandal, the paparazzi, the gossip… none of it mattered now.
Because Eli finally understood:
Julian didn’t just want control.
He wanted something else.
And Eli was the weapon.
So it wasn't about the debt all along.