Page 26 of Julian

I sigh in exasperation. “Julian,” I say carefully, trying to compose my thoughts because the real problem isn’t the inappropriateness of his request. The real problem is that I really would love to take him up on his offer. “I simply can’t afford to lose this job, and I’m not sure if this is a test, but I don’t want to fail it.”

Julian blinks and seems genuinely caught off guard. “Test? Fired?”

“I know that sounds—” I shake my head. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I just mean that yesterday I had two jobs and today I have one and it’s the best thing that’s happened to me financially in probably my entire adult life, so I’m trying very hard not to do something stupid on day one.”

Julian’s expression softens and he offers me a reassuring smile. “Harper, I promise you’re not going to lose the job if you have lunch with me. And you’ll not lose it if you decline my invitation.” A beat passes and he adds, “Honestly, I just want someone to talk to. I enjoy getting to know those who enter the Vipers ecosystem.”

I hold his gaze, searching his eyes to see if I detect an untruth, but I really think he means it, and the stiffness in my shoulders recedes. “Okay,” I say finally. “But I need to find parking first.”

The corner of his mouth shifts and he points down the block. “There’s a garage on Staple Street.”

“Yes, I know,” I assure him, my hand going to the door handle. “If you’d like to wait on the curb, I can get the door for you.”

“I’ll ride with you to the garage,” he says, gaze turning toward the street.

“Actually… it defeats the purpose of you having a driver if you have to walk from the garage to the restaurant,” I point out, really needing to hold on to the illusion that I’m his employee and he’s being kind by inviting me to lunch on my first day on the job.

We engage in a slight staring contest but to my surprise, he inclines his head my way, a faint smirk on his face. “As you wish.”

After Julian exits the Range Rover, I pull from the curb and make my way to the parking garage. The attendant does a bit of a double take when I pull in with a Range Rover and then step out in what is clearly a driver’s uniform, but I ignore it and hand over the keys.

Julian waits on the sidewalk for me, his head bent over his phone as he scrolls. I wipe sweaty palms on my jacket as I approach and his gaze lifts to meet mine. “All good?”

“All good,” I reply.

We enter Preston’s Crossing together, Julian holding the door open for me to precede him in. I’m very conscious of the fact that I’m in a uniform, entering a restaurant with a man who is likely recognized everywhere he goes.

The host takes one look at Julian and doesn’t check the reservation list. “Mr. Langley. Wonderful to have you.” She lifts two menus without hesitation. “Right this way.”

We’re seated at a corner table near the window set slightly apart from the surrounding tables. The lighting is warm, the noise level low enough for conversation to flow without effort.

I take the proffered menu and try to look like I eat in places like this all the time, which I most certainly do not. In fact, my eyes slightly bug out when I look at the prices, and I consider getting just a side salad.

Julian orders water for us both and opens his menu without ceremony. “The filet is what they’re known for,” he says. “I strongly recommend it.”

It’s a well-known fact to those who know and love me that I’m a carnivore at heart. A choice between veggies and meat, it’s meat all day long. A choice between chicken and steak, the only answer is steak. Not that I eat a lot of it, because it’s expensive, but my mouth waters at the thought of it.

I consider my dilemma. The filet is eighty dollars and even though I know Julian Langley could afford to order a thousand of them right now and not break a sweat, it seems rude to order such an expensive item.

“The garden salad looks good,” I muse, eyes pinned to the menu.

Julian’s fingers peek over the top and he pushes the menu down, forcing me to look at him. He’s amused by my discomfort. “The salad is garnish. Order the steak, Harper. I promise the organization will survive the expense.”

“Then that’s what I’ll have,” I say, closing the menu before I do the math on anything else.

After we order, Julian folds his hands on the table and looks at me with the same directness he had in the car. “I want to revisit a topic you brought up earlier… the advice you gave me about the ticketing situation.”

I shift slightly. “Oh… that.”

“What you described in thirty seconds took my operations team the better part of a morning and they still hadn’t landed on it.”

I don’t know what to do with that, so I just say, “I’m glad it helped.”

“You have a sharp mind, Harper.” My cheeks heat from the compliment. “And strong instincts about people.”

“Thank you,” I manage.

“Which makes me curious.” He tilts his head. “Why are you driving a car for a living?”