Chapter 7

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the steam slowly dissipating from the glass. After what felt like an eternity under the hot water, I pulled on a pair of comfortable shorts and a soft top. I tucked my damp hair securely into a silk bonnet and sprayed a few drops of my favorite vanilla perfume onto my wrists and the crook of my neck. The familiar, sweet scent was a small comfort, but it couldn't quiet the frantic beating of my heart.

I was absolutely dreading the rest of the night, The thought of staying in Julian’s room made my chest tight with terrifying anxiety— I was so scared.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, I opened the door and walked out into the quiet apartment. The lights in the hallway were dimmed, but the dining room was illuminated by a warm, low light. Julian was already there, sitting at the head of the table. The moment he saw me step into the room, he stood up. His tall frame cast a long shadow across the hardwood floor as he moved to the chair next to his and pulled it out.

"Sit," he murmured.

I sat down without a word, my hands folded neatly in my lap. A single plate of food sat between us, looking perfectly prepared. Before I could even reach for a fork, Julian picked it up himself. He scooped up a small portion and brought it to my lips. He didn't say anything; he just waited, his blue eyes locked onto mine with an unyielding intensity.

I opened my mouth and ate. I kept eating, chewing mechanically, too exhausted to fight the quiet authority in his posture. But after a few minutes, the heavy silence and the sheer stress of the day caught up to me.

"Julian, I'm full," I whispered, turning my head away slightly.

He didn't lower his hand. He kept trying to feed me, the fork hovering right near my face. A sudden, defiant surge of energy flared up inside me. I reached out, my fingers wrapping tightly around his wrist, and gently but firmly took the fork directly out of his hand. I scooped up a bite of the food, lifted it, and held it right in front of his lips.

Julian looked genuinely surprised for a fleeting moment. His eyebrows raised a fraction, his gaze dropping to the fork and then back to my eyes. Then, slowly, his lips parted. He took the bite from me, his eyes never leaving my face.

The heavy tension in the room shifted into something strangely intimate. We kept feeding each other, alternating bites in total silence, until the plate was completely empty. It was a bizarre, quiet truce in the middle of a war zone.

When we finished, Julian immediately grabbed the plates. I stood up, intending to carry the glasses to the sink to help, but he placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip gentle but unyielding. He insisted I stay exactly where I was and just stand by the counter, waiting for him. I watched the broad lines of his back as he washed the dishes, the running water the only sound filling the modern kitchen.

When he was finally done, he dried his hands, walked over to the wall, and switched off the kitchen light. The apartment plunged into deep shadow. He grabbed my hand, his long fingers securely locking around mine, and led me down the dark hallway straight to his bedroom.

We went inside, the door clicking firmly shut behind us. Julian walked across the room and turned off the overhead light, plunging us into pitch blackness. A second later, a soft, familiar melody began to drift from the speakers on his desk. It was Hurt So Good by Astrid S.

My breath hitched. It was my favorite song. I stood frozen by the door, the sultry, bittersweet lyrics filling the spaces between us. I wondered why he was doing all this—why he was playing my music, why he was acting so careful with me after the violent explosion in the park.

Then, the darkness broke as he clicked on the low, amber glow of the bedside lamp. Julian climbed onto the mattress, leaning back against the headboard, and patted the empty space beside him, signaling for me to lay down.

My legs felt like lead. I shakily walked over and lay down on the edge of the bed, my back completely facing him, my knees pulled up slightly toward my chest. I stared at the shadowed wall, my muscles tense.

I felt the mattress shift as Julian moved. He raised himself up on his elbow, hovering over me. Slowly, the tips of his fingers brushed against my skin. He began to slightly trace the contours of my face, his touch light as a feather, before his hand trailed down the length of my bare arms. A shiver ran straight down my spine.

"Julian," I whispered into the quiet room.

"Hmm?" he murmured. His hand moved down to find mine, his fingers softly massaging my palm and the tips of my fingers with an agonizing gentleness.

I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat. "Did you do anything to Liam?"

Julian paused for a second. The tracing stopped, his hand freezing against mine as the lyrics of the song echoed in the background. Then, his voice came out flat and honest. "Yes."

I closed my eyes and let out a shaky sigh. "Did you hurt him?"

"No," he replied instantly.

"Why are you doing this, Julian?"

Instead of an answer, Julian moved. He wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pulled me backward with a sudden, possessive force, tucking my back tightly against his chest. He buried his face into the side of my neck, his hot breath flaring against my skin.

"I like your body wash," he whispered, his voice deep and slightly raspy as he inhaled deeply. "It's so addictive, Tess."

"Julian..." I breathed, my hands clutching his forearms where they were locked over my stomach.

He didn't listen. He pressed a soft, lingering peck against the sensitive skin of my neck, then shifted up to press another kiss to my forehead. He rested his forehead completely against mine for a long, quiet while, our breathing syncing up in the amber light of the lamp. Then, he wrapped his arms around me even more tightly, locking me against his frame so securely that I could feel the steady, heavy beat of his heart against my shoulder blades.

"Sleep, Tess," he commanded softly.

I let out one last, exhausted sigh, my body finally giving in to the overwhelming fatigue of the day. The warmth of his chest and the steady rhythm of the music began to pull me under. I was just on the very edge of falling asleep, the room blurring into a haze, when his voice drifted through the dark one last time, a low, fierce whisper that embedded itself into my mind.

"I don't want to see you with other guys, Tess. You're so pretty... but you just can't see it."