Chapter 3

RINGGGGGGGGG!

The sharp, relentless ringing of Elara’s phone jarred her out of a deep, dreamless sleep.

She was curled up against Julian’s broad, warm chest, tangled in the high-thread-count sheets of her bedroom after the night's exhausting activities. The moment she sat up, the heavy blankets pooling at her waist, the cool morning air hit her bare skin.

Julian stirred beside her. Without opening his eyes, his large, warm hand reached out with practiced instinct and landed possessively on her waist, hauling her straight back against his heat.

"What is it?" he rasped, his baritone rough, low, and heavy with sleep.

Elara checked the caller ID, and her stomach dropped.

Dad.

She quickly pressed answer, her heart hammering like a trapped bird while frantically tapping Julian’s hand to gesture for absolute silence. Julian’s gray eyes cracked open, darkening with instant annoyance, but he remained still, his thumb beginning a slow, maddening stroke across her hip bone.

"G-good morning, Dad," she stuttered, trying to sound awake.

"Good morning, princess. I’m just checking in before my morning briefing," her father’s warm, doting voice echoed through the speaker. "How was your night?"

"It was... quiet," Elara lied, her face burning as Julian suddenly leaned up, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of her bare shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to tease her. She bit her lip hard to stifle a gasp.

"Good. I’m in Chicago until Friday," her father continued, completely oblivious. "The perimeter team is on high alert, and Julian is managing the estate grounds. Be a good girl while I’m away. Don't go wandering around at night."

"I won't, Dad. I'll be safe."

"I love you, princess."

"Love you too."

The line went dead. Elara let out a massive, shuddering breath and tossed the phone onto the nightstand, collapsing back onto the pillows.

"Princess," Julian murmured, sliding up her body until he was hovering over her, his thighs trapping her in place. His dark hair was messy and his chest bare and warm against hers. His voice was laced with a dark, smug satisfaction. "You lie terribly to your father."

"Because of you," Elara grumbled, though a soft, helpless smile broke across her face. She reached up, running her fingers through his dark hair, tracing the sharp angle of his jawline. "If he ever finds out you're in my bed, he'll kill us both."

"Let him try," Julian growled softly. He caught her hand, kissing her knuckles, his eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, absolute gravity. "No one is taking you from me, Elara. Not even him."

Elara pushed him and flipped them over with surprising precision. Now she was over him.

"Are you sure? Can you protect us from my father’s wrath if he ever finds out?" she asked, rubbing her parted legs along Julian’s length.

Julian groaned in mock frustration from the sensation, his length already hardening under her warmth. "Yes. I promise. I will protect you from every harm." He placed a hand on her hip and gently used the other one to guide her down his length.

"Mmmnnn…" She let out a breathy moan, back arching.

His thrusts were slow, almost like he was savoring the feel of her.

"Faster, Julian… too slow."

A villainous glint appeared in his eyes. "Patience is a virtue, baby. Now relax and enjoy."

She tried to ride him faster, but his hands on her hips kept her steady. She could only whimper in despair.

"Beg me. Maybe I’ll be kind enough to give you what you want."

Elara didn’t hesitate. "Please, Julian. Please. Faster, please. I can’t take it anymore," she pleaded shamelessly.

"That’s more like it."

He picked up the pace. The sound of skin slapping echoed throughout the room—loud, erotic, and unapologetic.

He let go of her hip and found her clit with his fingers.

Elara moaned louder and arched her back so much that she felt she would snap in half. Julian took advantage of that and captured a nipple in his mouth. He sucked, nibbled, and licked, alternating between both hardened pebbles.

Elara couldn’t control herself anymore. She came with a loud cry, her body convulsing uncontrollably. Her walls felt sensitive. Julian started to swell inside of her and finally came with a suppressed hiss.

For the rest of the morning, the heavy mahogany doors stayed locked.

There were no security reports, no syndicate contracts, and no rigid boundaries. Julian had moved every important meeting to the afternoon with the excuse of not feeling well. He rarely took breaks, so no one asked questions.

The Fixer was gone. In his place, there was just Julian—attentive, quiet, and insatiably physical.

While Elara sat cross-legged on the bed wrapped in his dark silk robe, Julian brought up a tray of coffee and fruit from the kitchenette attached to Elara’s room himself.

He sat on the couch, pulled Elara into his arms, and let out a satisfied sigh at the warmth of her skin. She leaned back into his chest, his chin resting on her shoulder while he fed her. His other hand was resting idly on her thigh, as if he needed constant physical proof that she was really there.

"You're clingy when you're off the clock," Elara teased softly, leaning back against him, popping a strawberry into her mouth. "The scary Fixer is actually just a giant weighted blanket."

Julian’s lips curved into a rare, faint smirk against her neck. "I spent two years standing two feet behind you, not allowed to reach out. I'm making up for lost time."

He turned her head gently, taking her mouth in a slow, deep, lazy morning kiss that tasted of espresso and sweet cream. There was no rush, no anger, no brutal intensity—just a quiet, possessive warmth that made Elara’s heart swell so big it almost hurt.

She rested her hands over his arms, sinking completely into the safety of his embrace, convinced that as long as she was in this room with Julian, nothing in her father's dangerous world could ever touch her.