Chapter 97
Nora's POV
The rain had thinned to a fine mist by the time we reached the bottom of the trail.
Julian set me down without being asked, just as the parking lot came into view. I slid off his back and immediately started shrugging out of his uniform jacket, fingers working at the collar.
His hand closed around my wrist before I could pull the jacket off my shoulders. Not hard—just firm enough to stop me.
"Keep it on." His voice was low, close to my ear. "You'll get cold."
"I'm fine—"
"Nora."
That was it. Just my name, in that tone that didn't leave much room for argument.
I stopped fighting it. The jacket stayed on my shoulders, still carrying the faint warmth from his body.
This is a problem, I thought. The jacket is a problem. The smell is a very specific problem.
He opened the umbrella and draped his arm around my shoulders, tilting the canopy toward me as we walked.
I was hyperaware of every person who might be watching as we crossed the lot. The other vehicles were gone—only Julian's car remained near the entrance. But I kept scanning anyway. We'd been off by ourselves for over two hours, and now we were walking back under one umbrella with his arm around me and his jacket on my back—
"You're thinking too loud," Julian said.
"I'm not thinking anything."
"You've checked the parking lot three times in the last thirty seconds."
I had. I stopped doing it. "I'm just worried people are going to talk."
He glanced down at me, something amused in his expression. "You want to avoid that? Walk back separately? You take the umbrella, I'll get wet again?"
"That's not—" I exhaled. "I'm just pointing out that it looks a certain way."
"What way is that?"
Like exactly what it is.
Julian stopped walking. We were beside the car now, and he turned to look at me with that particular expression he got when he thought I was being deliberately obtuse.
"Trying to avoid suspicion now," he continued, "is a little like closing the barn door after the horse has bolted. Don't you think?"
My face was warm despite the damp chill in the air. I pulled the car door open and got in.
I settled in and stared straight ahead, trying to get my pulse under control.
Outside, I saw Ethan coming from the entrance. Julian told me to wait a moment, then walked over to meet him. Ethan had his tablet out, the two of them exchanging something—most likely important business.
Then the passenger door opened.
Annabel slid into the seat beside me, shaking out her umbrella and setting it beside her leg like she'd been invited.
"Oh good, you're back." She smiled at me with the particular warmth of someone who doesn't mean it. "I was starting to worry."
Every instinct I had went on alert.
"Miss Foster." I kept my voice even. "The other cars already left."
"I know." She settled more comfortably into the seat. "I got held up—phone calls, you know how it is. Saw this one still here and thought I'd wait." She glanced at me sidelong. "Lucky timing."
Sure it was.
I looked at her directly. "If you have something to say, just say it."
She tilted her head, like she appreciated the directness. "I was just wondering," she said pleasantly, "what exactly your position is. Going forward. With Mr. Sterling." She let that sit for a moment. "Friend? Colleague? Something more private?"
"There's another option," I said. "It's called a relationship. You might have heard of it."
Annabel's smile didn't waver. "He has a fiancée, Miss Grey."
The words landed quietly, without drama. That was almost worse—the casual way she said it, like she was telling me the weather forecast.
I didn't say anything.
"It's not exactly a secret," she continued, her tone shifting to something almost sympathetic. "In Aetheria's circles, anyway. There are reasons he ended up out here in the rust belt. People talk." She paused. "So whatever you think is happening—you should understand that your position in it isn't one that can be made public. You're smart enough to see that."
You're smart enough to see that. The implication being: smart enough to know your place.
I felt the familiar cold clarity settle over me—the same thing that had happened in the parking garage with Victoria Vaughn, the same thing that happened every time someone decided to explain my limitations to me.
"Interesting," I said. "You know he has a fiancée, and you've still been following him around all day with coffee and talking points." I looked at her. "What does that make you?"
Her expression flickered. Just for a second—a tightening around the eyes, a fractional stiffening of her posture.
"My relationship with him is entirely professional," she said, cooler now.
"Then we're both professionals," I said. "I don't see what the problem is."
"The problem," she said, "is that you just ended things with Kyle Vaughn, and now you've spent two hours alone with Sterling—who is, by all accounts, spoken for." She let the pause stretch. "It doesn't look great for you, Miss Grey. That's all I'm saying."
The car door opened.
Julian ducked in from the rain, and whatever he saw when he looked between us made him go very still. His eyes moved from Annabel to me and back again.
Annabel switched on her professional smile immediately. "Mr. Sterling. I was just keeping Miss Grey company—I hope you don't mind. I saw the car and thought I'd wait."
Julian didn't respond to that. He just looked at her, steady and unhurried, with the particular quality of silence that made you understand something without it ever being said out loud. It wasn't aggressive. It was worse than aggressive—it was dismissive, the way you might look at a situation that had already been assessed and found unimportant.
Annabel's smile held for about four seconds. Then she gathered her umbrella, murmured something about seeing us at the debrief, and got out of the car.
As she walked away, she glanced back at me once. The look said: you'll figure it out eventually.