Chapter 76
Evelyn's POV
Julian leaned forward slightly. "And because you're smart enough to see patterns others miss. Webb pulled your academic records. You weren't just good—you were exceptional. Top of your program. Published in journals." A pause. "If you'd pursued academia instead of getting pulled into Kholod, you'd probably be teaching at Columbia right now."
The compliment hit harder than it should have. I'd spent so many years being valued only for my ability to kill that I'd almost forgotten I used to be good at other things.
"Following money requires access to financial systems I don't have," I pointed out.
"No." His smile was sharp. "But I can. Titan has contracts with half the intelligence agencies in the Western hemisphere. We have access to databases that would make the SEC weep. We have analysts who specialize in tracking illicit transfers." He gestured at the chaos beyond his windows. "What we don't have is someone who understands Russian black market structures well enough to know what we're looking for."
I looked at the personnel moving through their routines. Felt something shift in my chest.
Because Julian wasn't offering charity. He was offering tools. Resources. He was treating me like I was smart. Capable. Worth investing in.
It was terrifying how much that meant.
"How do you want to structure this?" I asked. "Chain of command?"
"You report directly to me." Firm. No negotiation. "No intermediaries. As far as my team knows, you're consulting on Russian organized crime patterns. They don't need to know you were the assassin. They definitely don't need to know about Adrian."
"And when I need specific resources?"
"You ask me and I'll arrange it." He pulled out a business card. Matte black with silver lettering. Julian Russell, CEO. Multiple contact methods. "My direct line. Goes to my personal cell. You need something, you call. Day or night."
I picked up the card. Ran my thumb over the embossed letters. "That's a lot of access for a consultant you just hired."
"You're not just any consultant." His eyes held mine. For a moment the professional mask slipped. "You're someone I trust to get this done. Someone I trust not to fuck me over." The mask slid back. "Plus you're motivated to protect Adrian. Our interests align."
The logic was sound. But I wasn't stupid enough to think it was the whole truth.
Julian wanted me close for reasons that had nothing to do with Caldwell.
The fucked up part was I couldn't even be mad. Because I needed this. The resources. The cover story. The excuse to investigate without raising suspicion.
And maybe I needed the excuse to see him again. To prove we could be in the same room without falling apart.
"Fine," I said. "When do we start?"
"This afternoon." he said. " We need to go to Winthrop Heavy Industries, I'll have my driver ready at one."
I stared at him. "What?"
"The contract files we need to review—Adrian's recent bids, the competing proposals, internal communications about the projects." He started closing windows on his monitor. "They're classified. Defense contracts. He can't send them electronically, even through encrypted channels. We need to review them on-site."
My stomach dropped. "You want me to go to Adrian's office."
"I want us to go to Adrian's office." He turned to face me fully. "Together. To review the files that will help us identify who tried to frame him." His eyes were steady on mine. "Unless that's a problem?"
It was absolutely a problem. Walking into Winthrop Industries. Facing Adrian after days of avoiding him. Watching him be the perfect CEO while I pretended I was fine. While I pretended my heart wasn't shattering every time I thought about him with Isabella.
And somehow, having Julian there would make it worse. I didn't know why.
"I can review the files myself," I said. "You don't need to be there."
"Adrian won't give you access without me." Julian's voice was flat. "He doesn't know you're working for Titan. Doesn't know you're investigating the case. As far as he's concerned, you're still just his father's widow trying to figure out your next move." He paused. "But he'll give me access. We have contracts together. Military projects. It's reasonable for me to request a review of recent competitive bids."
The logic was sound. I hated that it was sound.
"So I'm what, your assistant?" I kept my voice level. "Your consultant tagging along?"
"You're my expert on Russian organizational structures who happens to have academic credentials in defense contracting." He tilted his head slightly. "And you're someone Adrian trusts. Someone he won't question being in his office." A pause. "Someone whose presence might actually make him more cooperative because he'll want to prove to you that Winthrop Industries has nothing to hide."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist there had to be another way.
But I could see the calculation in Julian's eyes. He'd already thought this through. Already determined this was the most efficient approach.
Already decided that making me face Adrian was an acceptable cost.
"What time?" I asked.
"One PM. I'll pick you up—"
"I'll meet you there."
"No." His voice was firm. "We arrive together. Present a unified front. If you show up separately, it raises questions about why you're really there." He crossed his arms. "We go together or we don't go at all."
I stared at him. At the stubborn set of his jaw. The way he'd already made this decision and was just waiting for me to accept it.
"You're enjoying this," I said. "Making me go there. Making me face him."
"I'm doing what's necessary to get the information we need." But something flickered in his eyes. Something that might have been satisfaction. "If that happens to force you out of your comfort zone, that's just a bonus."
The bastard.
I could feel my hands clenching into fists. Could feel the old training kicking in—the urge to hurt him for pushing me, for manipulating me, for seeing exactly where it would hurt most and pressing anyway.
But he was also right. We needed those files. And Adrian wouldn't give them to me without questions I couldn't answer.
"Fine," I bit out. "One PM. Where?"
"Titan garage. Sublevel three." He pulled out his phone and typed something. "I'm sending you the access code now. Don't be late."
My phone buzzed with the message. I looked at it and felt the trap closing around me.
Going to Adrian's office. With Julian. To investigate the case where I'd been the weapon.
This was insane.
"Anything else?" I asked.
He studied me for a moment. Then his expression shifted into something that might have been concern if I didn't know better.
"You're hesitating," he said. "About seeing him."
"I'm not—"
"You are." He took a step closer. "What, you can't even face him now? Is it really that bad?"
The words hit like a slap. Because yes, it was that bad. Because every time I thought about Adrian with Isabella, about him moving on while I was still trapped in this mess, it felt like drowning.
But I'd be damned if I let Julian see that.
I lifted my chin and met his eyes. Used his own words against him. The ones he'd thrown at Isabella at that disastrous dinner.
"Careful," I said. "Proximity breeds familiarity. You keep pushing me toward Adrian, you might not like what happens."
For a second, something dangerous flashed in his eyes. Something that looked almost like jealousy.
Then he smiled. Sharp and cold.
"Noted," he said. "Twelve forty-five. Don't make me wait."
I turned and walked out before I could say something I'd regret.