Page 20 of Julian

I don’t say anything, which takes some effort, and watch as Mr. Langley moves to a panel on the wall that holds two hooks with keys. He grabs a set and tosses them to me in an easy arc.

“Range Rover today,” he says.

I catch them easily. “Good call,” I say, and then immediately wonder if I’m supposed to have opinions about his cars.

But he doesn’t seem bothered. “The Ferrari stays mostly for weekends,” he says, moving toward the passenger side. “I keep several others at a private garage nearby. I rotate them depending on the week.”

Lifestyles of the rich and famous, I think to myself.

I circle to the driver’s side and open the rear door for him, stepping back to give him room. But he doesn’t spare it a glance, instead rounding the front of the car. “I’ll ride up here.”

Ride shotgun, next to me? I’ve never had a client do that before. Granted, it’s always been limos or large Town Cars, but… this is just weird.

I blink. “Oh—of course.” I close the rear door and slide into the driver’s seat while he settles into the passenger side.

It’s a small thing. But it changes the dynamic.

I take a quick read of the interior the way I always do in an unfamiliar car. All is where it should be, a showcase of supple leather and dazzling electronics. Julian reaches and presses a button on the rearview mirror and at the far end of the garage, a door rolls upward automatically. It opens onto a narrow ramp that runs steeply up to street level, surfacing through a discreet cut in the sidewalk beside the townhouse.

Only in this slice of Manhattan does such a thing exist—old money blocks where the brownstones were built wide and deep enough that the lots could accommodate what amounted to private infrastructure. The kind of thing that gets handed down rather than purchased.

I ease up the ramp, check the sidewalk, and pull out into the morning.

“You’ve driven in the city a long time?” Julian asks.

“Actually,” I say, not sparing him a glance, “and I hope this doesn’t get me fired, but I never drove that much until I started working for the limo company a few years ago. Not much of a need for a car in the city.”

He doesn’t reply and it makes me nervous. Is he second-guessing that I’m the right person for the job? From my peripheral vision, I can see him working on his phone, so I keep my eyes on the road and don’t push the conversation.

He’ll talk when he wants to.

The silence isn’t awkward exactly, but it isn’t comfortable either, especially with him sitting in the front seat with me. On top of that, the weight of expectation hangs heavy between us.

I clear my throat gently. “Is the temperature comfortable enough?”

His gaze lifts from his phone. “It’s fine. Did Percy review expectations with you?”

“Yes,” I say, grateful for a concrete topic. “He did. He was very thorough.”

“And you understand them?”

“I do.” I hesitate, then decide that clarity now is better than apology later. “There’s one thing I’d like to be up front about.”

His phone lowers slightly. His attention sharpens.

“I can’t be available twenty-four hours a day,” I explain, choosing each word carefully so it doesn’t sound like refusal. “I’m fully committed during work hours, and I’ll be punctual and present. And I can be flexible about days and nights with planning, but I have a seventeen-year-old brother at home and I have to be available for him too.” I keep my eyes on the road, bracing for friction. “I’m not trying to be difficult,” I add. “I just want to be transparent.”

There’s a brief pause, the kind that stretches long enough for doubt to creep in but then he says, “Family must come first.”

The simplicity of the statement catches me off guard, and I glance at him to make sure I heard him correctly.

“Outside of that,” he continues, “when you are scheduled, I expect you to be on time and available. Fully engaged with a full tank of gas. This position requires reliability.”

“That’s fair,” I say quickly, relief unwinding inside me. “Completely fair.”

His attention returns to his phone, and I allow myself a slow breath as we continue west.

We clear a congested intersection, and just as I begin to relax into the rhythm of driving, he speaks again. “My operations team implemented your suggestion.”