“Poppy—”
“I’m not asking you to do anything inappropriate. I’m asking you to stop sitting in a chair like a gargoyle and come lie down next to me.” She yawns. “We can establish boundaries in the morning. Right now I’m too tired to negotiate, and you clearly aren’t going anywhere.”
I should argue. The professional boundary between us calls for distance.
My body betrays me. I cross the room. Remove my shoes. Lie down beside her on top of the covers—one small barrier between us, one last attempt at propriety.
She rolls toward me. Her hand finds my chest—right where a heartbeat pulses, slow and wrong. One beat. A long pause. Another.
If she notices the absence, she doesn’t mention it.
“Julian?”
“Yes?”
“Whatever you’re scared of—whatever that man represents—we’ll figure it out.” Her voice is drowsy, already drifting. “Together. We’ll figure it out together.”
She falls asleep again. Her hand stays on my chest.
I stare at the ceiling. Count the hours until dawn. Think about all the ways this could end—all the ways it will end, because things like this always do.
But for now—just for now—I let myself have this.
Her warmth. Her trust. Her hand over the place where my heart used to beat.
The monster pretending to be a man.
The man in her bed, trying not to be a monster.
Tomorrow, Damien will make his next move, and I’ll have to decide how much to tell her. Tomorrow, everything might fall apart.
But that’s tomorrow.
Tonight, she’s safe. She’s warm. She’s here.
For now, that’s enough.
For now, it has to be.
CHAPTER 14
POPPY
The morning sun has a vendetta against my sleep schedule. It streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our suite like it’s being paid to wake me.
I squint at my phone. 6:56 AM.
Julian is already awake. Of course he is. He’s sitting on the balcony in linen pants and a white shirt that looks crisp despite the humidity, reading something on his tablet. His coffee sits untouched beside him—I’ve noticed he never drinks it, just orders it like it’s a prop.
Which is weird, right? No, it’s definitely weird. But do I ask about it?
I grab my phone and scroll through last night’s comments. The photo I posted of Julian—just his hands on the table, his watch catching the light—has 47,000 likes and counting.
Who IS he???
Poppy you can’t just post mystery man hands and not give us details
The WATCH. The HANDS. The way he’s holding that wine glass.
