Chapter 81
Nora's POV
I thought about the first time I'd really seen him—when he'd saved me from Victoria's claws. His raw form, full of wildness and a commanding pressure that demanded submission. When everyone else was panicking, he'd looked at me, silver eyes sharp and assessing, like he was trying to figure out what kind of person I was.
My heart had pounded violently then, but I didn't know if it was from fear or some other emotion. I was grateful to him. Respected him. Maybe even in awe.
And that feeling had only grown. Every time he'd shown up—on the highway, at the hospital, in the conference room, during the Cold Creek investigation—he'd proven himself to be exactly the kind of man I thought only existed in fiction. Competent, powerful, principled, genuinely committed to doing the right thing even when it was hard.
But was that love?
I didn't know. I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. And that terrified me.
Because if I was just idolizing him—if I was projecting some fantasy onto him because he'd saved me and treated me with respect—then what I felt wasn't real. It was infatuation. A crush. Something that would fade the moment I saw him as a flawed, ordinary human being instead of some larger-than-life hero.
And if that was all it was, then I had no right to let him think otherwise. No right to let him waste his time on someone who couldn't love him the way he deserved.
If I'm only looking up at him, I thought, then I'm not standing beside him. And that's not fair to either of us.
"What are you thinking about?"
Julian's voice cut through my spiral. I looked up, startled, and found him watching me with that same steady, patient expression. His eyes were calm, but there was something searching in them. Something that made my chest tighten.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He leaned forward slightly, and before I could react, he flicked my forehead—gently this time, more playful than scolding.
"You've been quiet for a minute," he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'm starting to think I scared you."
I rubbed my forehead reflexively, more out of surprise than pain. "I'm not broken."
"Then talk to me."
I wanted to. I wanted to tell him everything—the doubts, the fear, the confusion. But the words felt too heavy, too raw. So I stayed silent, staring at my hands.
Julian sighed softly. He straightened, his expression shifting back into something more neutral, more controlled. The warmth that had been there moments ago seemed to retreat, replaced by the cool professionalism I'd seen him wear in meetings and public appearances.
"Let's go," he said quietly, his tone flat.
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "What?"
"We both still have work to do."
He turned, and I felt a strange pang of loss. The closeness we'd had just moments ago—the vulnerability he'd shown—was gone. He'd pulled back, putting distance between us again.
And I hated it.
I hated the way my chest tightened at the thought of him walking away.
"Wait."
The word came out before I could stop it. Julian paused, his hand on the doorknob, and looked back at me.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. "Do you think I'm... strange?"
His brow furrowed slightly. "Strange?"
"My attitude toward relationships." I forced myself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct screamed at me to look away. "Isn't it strange? Like you said, I wrap myself up so tightly, leaving no room for anyone to get close. It must seem... odd."
For a moment, he just stared at me. Then, slowly, he walked back toward the table and crouched down so we were at eye level.
"You're overthinking it, Nora," he said gently. His thumb brushed across my forehead. "I said you keep your distance. I never said you were strange."
"But—"
"Everyone has their own way of choosing a partner," he continued, his voice steady and sure. "You're not strange at all. Don't belittle yourself."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to accept the reassurance in his words and let it ease the knot in my chest. But the doubt lingered, stubborn and unshakable.
Julian must have seen it on my face, because his expression softened even further. He reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and his voice dropped to something almost tender.
"The way you are... I like it very much."
The warmth in Julian's voice still lingered in the air between us, wrapping around me like something tangible. I opened my mouth, searching for a response that wouldn't sound completely idiotic, but before I could form a single coherent thought, my phone buzzed violently against the table.
I reflexively reached for the device, even though my brain was screaming at me to ignore it. Vincent's name glowed on the screen, and I felt a sharp pang of frustration mixed with something that felt uncomfortably close to relief.
"I should—" I started.
"Answer it," he said quietly, stepping back to give me space.
I swiped to accept the call, pressing the phone to my ear. "Vincent?"
"Nora," his voice was tight with stress. "The interview fell through. The guy just canceled—sent his secretary with a text saying he had 'other arrangements.' We've got a massive hole in today's coverage, and the boss is calling us back for a meeting."
My stomach dropped. "When?"
"Now."
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to ignore the way my chest had tightened with disappointment. Just moments ago, I'd been on the verge of saying something—what, exactly, I still wasn't sure—but it had felt important. And now reality was yanking me back.
"I'll be there in half an hour," I said, and ended the call.
When I looked up, Julian was watching me. "Work emergency?"
I nodded, shoving my phone into my pocket. "Interview cancellation. We've got a scheduling crisis."
"Do you need any help?"
I shook my head.
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. "All right. Go on, don't be late."