Chapter 15 His Dark World
Julian stood on the cliff of a three-story bar building, clad in his signature black suit, black hat on his head, a cigarette he was yet to light in his hand as he watched the city of Las Vegas from above. He couldn’t light it, his doctor had warned him—because of his health. He missed smoking.
His jaw locked as his thoughts started to spiral again. About her.
He had been well-composed in her presence. He was always composed, but inside, his thoughts burned.
He hadn’t been this restless in a while. And that was because he had found the woman that made him enjoy sex for the first time ever since he had been with women.
Before her and since her, sex always felt like a boring chore—Pound and release. But that night with her had woken a part of him he thought he would never be able to experience.
Seeing her again was supposed to give him joy, and maybe it did. Until he got to know she was a Moreau.
He wished that wasn’t the case. Because he knew exactly what caused her father’s death.
His phone rang in his pocket, without bothering to look at the caller’s ID, he picked up.
“Boss, The president just walked into the VIP lounge” Vincent—his right hand man’s voice came through the phone.
Julian’s eyes popped.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick. “I told you to call before he enters. Stall him. He must not get in.”
He was already grabbing his coat from the pillar he hung it on, sliding his gun into the holster beneath it. The elevator ride down felt longer than usual, because his mind was already there but his legs weren’t. The moment he reached the underground parking lot, his black Aston roared to life, and he tore into the night — a streak of darkness gliding through the neon glow of the city.
~
Julian pulled up across the street, his eyes narrowing at the high-end club opposite where he was.
He lowered his hat to cover more of his face, then made a call to Vincent as he walked ahead. “He can enter now,” he said quietly. “I’m watching.”
From the tinted glass of the upper lounge window, Julian had a perfect view. He watched as President Frederick walked into the lounge, flanked by two guards—men who were trained but nowhere near as dangerous as the ones Julian worked with daily.
Everything entertaining was going on down there…laughter, consumption of expensive whiskeys, strippers giving wealthy men lap dances, and there was the President…
An A-class thick stripper was presented to him, scantily clad in black net. She hovered over him seductively then lowered herself and started to whine her waist for him like a special performance.
Julian stayed motionless where he was , observing and calculating. He made sure his eyes didn’t miss a thing going on around there.
Then his eyes caught it— a lone shadow at the high end of the room, half-hidden behind a pillar. In his hand was something Julian couldn’t see well from the angle he was, but judging with the red pointer that narrowed, stopping on the president’s forehead? He knew what it was.
A sniper.
He knew this person was coming, he had done his calculations well.
A normal human would have panicked on seeing such, but Julian was far from normal. His lips curved into a dark smirk.
He wasted no time.
Julian’s hand slid beneath his coat and pulled out his own gun. What came next happened so fast. He fired a single suppressed shot at the man hiding in the shadows. The sound was barely louder than a sigh.
The man fell immediately, the thud sound that came from his body dropping alerted someone. She screamed. “A dead body!”
People scattered and started to move around, chaos spreading in the air.
The President’s men rushed to cover him, their guns drawn out just in case.
Julian had already stepped into the light, the brim of his hat tilting up just enough for recognition to dawn.
And then, through the confusion, the President saw him.
Their eyes met — one filled with fear, the other with cold assurance. The President’s expression shifted as he took him in fully. His eyes immediately spoke of realization and gratitude.
Julian gave a faint nod.
As the guards hurried the President toward the exit, Julian fell into step behind them. Not close enough to draw attention, but near enough to make his presence known by the President. The person he was here to protect. Outside, the night wind bit at their suits as the convoy waited.
President Frederick paused before entering the car, turned slightly, and murmured, “Thank you, J.”
Julian’s only response was a fleeting half-smile and a slight bow.
Then he watched as the President was helped into the convoy and driven away.
Vincent approached from behind him, his own eyes also following the car speeding off.
“That was smooth, boss.” He said, his tone proud. “How could you tell the assassin was alone?”
Julian adjusted his collar, face expressionless. “I always make clean investigations.” He said flatly. Then, “Especially for the people I care about.”
He turned, walking away with Vincent trailing behind him before the sirens reached the block.
By the time he got back home, there was only someone in his mind. His steps were silent against the marble as he crossed the hall and pushed open the door to the room he hosted Seraphina in.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs tucked beneath her, the silk blue nightgown she had on hugging her frame. The moment she saw him, she sprang up, eyes flashing with something between relief and irritation.
“I can't believe you left all day without informing me!” she burst out, voice trembling slightly. “Is this how it’s going to be after we’re married? Me sitting here like some... forgotten doll while you just disappear?”
He didn’t answer. His gaze flicked past her, landing on the maid who stood by the dresser.
“Has she eaten?”
The maid bowed quickly. “Yes, sir. She has.”
“The drugs?”
“She took them, Sir.”
Julian gave a slow nod, then turned back to Seraphina. His voice softened, but only slightly.
“Tomorrow morning, you’ll receive the dress and adornments for the gala. Be ready by 6pm.”
And that was it. No apology. No explanation. Just a dry and distant command. Seraphina felt her stomach recoil.
She expected more but he was already turning to leave. Her brows pinched in disbelief.
“That’s it? You won’t even…”
He was already at the door.
“Goodnight, Phine,” he said without looking back.
The door clicked shut.
For a long moment, she just stared at the door, wondering if that had really happened. Wondering if he had truly just walked away as though her emotions meant nothing.
Her lips parted, a whisper escaping into the silence. “Who are you, Julian?”
“Ma’am, do you need…”
“I don’t need anything.” Her words came out more pressured than intended. She felt a bit guilty, because she might have just intimidated the help which she didn’t mean to.
Julian was just starting to get on her nerves. Is this the man she’s going to spend a year of her life with?