Chapter 169
Nora's POV
"Right now?" I said slowly, meeting his gaze. "No. I can feel that you're serious about this. About us." I hesitated, then pushed forward. "But at first, yeah, I thought maybe it was just... new. The thrill of something different. We come from completely different worlds, Julian. So I didn't want to make it public. I didn't want everyone to know, because if it fell apart—"
"You'd be the one left humiliated," he finished, his voice tight.
"Something like that."
He exhaled heavily, his hold on me tightening. "And now?"
I bit my lip, feeling the sting of vulnerability. "Now... I can tell you care. You're not Kyle. You wouldn't betray me. You wouldn't ask me to quit my job or shrink myself to fit into your life." My voice wavered. "And I've realized something worse. I'm falling for you. Hard. I need you, Julian. I hate how much I need you."
His expression softened, but he stayed quiet, waiting.
"But I'm still scared," I admitted, my throat tightening. "All those people and pressures I can't even see yet. What if they push back? What if you have to choose between your career and me, and I—" I stopped, unable to finish.
"Nora." His voice was barely above a whisper.
He drew me against his chest. His arms wrapped around me so tightly I could barely breathe, and I felt his chin rest on top of my head.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I haven't given you enough security. That's on me."
I shook my head against him. "It's not your fault—"
"Yes, it is." His voice was firm now. "You shouldn't have to carry this fear alone. So let me make something clear." He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes blazing. "I will handle the pressure. My family, the political sharks, whoever the fuck tries to interfere—they'll deal with me, not you. I won't let you be collateral damage in someone else's power play. Do you understand?"
I stared at him, my chest aching. "Julian—"
"I'm not going anywhere, Nora. No matter what happens. I'll be right here."
The sincerity in his voice broke something inside me. Tears pricked my eyes, and before I could stop myself, I was crying—quiet, helpless sobs that I tried to bury against his shoulder.
He held me through it, one hand stroking my wet hair, the other pressed firmly against my back. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'm here."
We stayed like that for a long time.
---
The next morning, I woke to sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The bed was obscenely comfortable, and for a moment, I just lay there, staring at the wooden ceiling beams.
Then I turned my head and saw the clock: 10:47 a.m.
I sat bolt upright. "What—?"
Julian's voice drifted in from the living room. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
I stumbled out of bed and found him sitting on the couch with his tablet. He was dressed in a plain black tee and sweatpants.
"You let me sleep until eleven?" I demanded.
He looked up, smirking. "My little piglet needed her rest."
"Piglet?"
"You snore when you're exhausted."
"I do not—"
"You do." He set the tablet aside and stood, crossing the room in a few lazy strides. Before I could protest, he leaned down and kissed me—slow, warm, and entirely too smug.
When he pulled back, I was breathless. "You're impossible."
"And you're still half-asleep." He tugged me toward the dining table. "Come on. I had them send up brunch."
The table was loaded: scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, waffles, fresh fruit, and a pitcher of orange juice. My stomach growled loudly.
Julian pulled out a chair for me, then poured a glass of warm milk. "Drink this first."
I obeyed, too hungry to argue. He sat across from me, watching with that quiet, satisfied expression he got whenever I did something he'd asked without a fight.
"What?" I said around a mouthful of waffle.
"Nothing." But his smile didn't fade.
After breakfast, we took a walk along the tree-lined path toward the stables. Julian held my hand the entire way, his thumb tracing absent circles on my palm. The air smelled like pine and fresh earth, and the sunlight filtered through the leaves in soft, dappled patterns.
"This place is incredible," I said.
"I'm glad you like it." He glanced at me. "I've been meaning to bring you here."
He shrugged. "But you never had time."
I squeezed his hand. "Thank you."
He didn't answer, but his grip tightened just slightly.
---
At the stables, a staff member introduced us to the horses. My eyes immediately landed on a snow-white mare with a soft, glossy mane.
"That's Prince," the manager said. "Very gentle. Good for beginners."
I crouched down and held out a carrot. Prince sniffed it cautiously, then took a delicate bite. I laughed as his velvet nose brushed my palm.
Julian watched from a few feet away, arms crossed, looking amused. "You're a natural."
"I've never ridden a horse before."
"I know."
The manager helped me mount, and the second I was in the saddle, panic set in. Prince shifted slightly, and I immediately flattened myself against his neck, gripping the saddle with white knuckles.
"Baby." Julian appeared at Prince's head, one hand on the reins. "Sit up. Relax your shoulders."
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can." His voice was calm, steady. "I've got him. He won't move unless I let him."
I forced myself upright, my heart still pounding. Julian led Prince in a slow circle around the paddock, murmuring reassurances to both of us. Gradually, my breathing evened out. By the time we'd completed the loop, I was almost enjoying it.
When Julian helped me dismount, I was grinning. "That was... actually fun."
"Told you." He brushed a strand of hair from my face. "You did great."
"I have muscles now," I said, patting my stomach proudly. "From all that core work."
His eyes darkened slightly. He reached out, his hand settling on my waist over the riding jacket. "I've noticed," he said, his voice dropping. "You've been lasting longer... on top."
My face went nuclear. "Julian!"
He grinned, utterly shameless. "What? I'm just stating facts."
I shoved him, but he caught my wrist and pulled me close, laughing. Before I could protest further, a voice called out from the stable entrance.
"Mr. Sterling?"
We both turned. A middle-aged man in expensive riding gear was approaching.
Annabel's father. Blair Foster.
"What a coincidence!" he said. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Julian's smile vanished. "Foster."
"I'm here with some clients," Blair said, gesturing vaguely toward the main lodge. "Talking shop, you know how it is." His gaze flicked to me, curious but polite. "And who's this?"
"Nora Grey," I said.
"Pleasure." Blair's smile widened. "Say, since we're both here, why don't you two join us in the lounge? I'd love to pick your brain on a few policy matters, Mr. Sterling. And Miss Grey, of course—you're welcome too. No reason to stand around in the heat."