Page 70 of Julian

“Anytime you want,” he says.

I exhale slowly, pulling myself back from the edge of that thought before it gets too far ahead of me.

“Come on,” he says, already turning toward the house. “I’ll show you inside.”

No surprise, the interior is just as stunning, if not more so. The floors are cool beneath my feet, expensive stone that contrasts with the warmth of the air, and there’s a faint sound of the ocean, waves crashing gently, a constant, calming backdrop.

He leads me through this incredible home. Finally, he stops near a wide hallway that branches off toward what I assume are the bedrooms.

“You can freshen up here,” he says, gesturing to a door off to the side.

I open the door to what turns out to be more of a spa than a bathroom. There’s a soaking tub set beneath a window that looks out toward the Atlantic Ocean, a glass shower big enough to get lost in, double vanities, limestone and marble everywhere, and mirrors that reflect everything back in soft, golden tones.

“Take your time,” he says. “And—” His gaze flicks over me “Wear something water appropriate.”

I blink. “Water appropriate?”

He shrugs. “We may get a little wet. It’s the Bahamas, Harper. It would be a shame not to enjoy it.”

I smile.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says.

And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in this spacious area. I look at the massive mirror in front of me. I stand there, staring at my reflection.

At the girl who grew up on the Lower East Side, who counts grocery bills and stretches paychecks and worries about everything—

Now standing in a place like this.

“Water appropriate,” I murmur to myself. This is definitely going to be interesting.

I change into a bikini, then put on a cover-up so I’m not revealing too much.

“Ready?” he asks as he knocks at the door a few minutes after leaving me.

I open it. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says, turning slightly. “Come on.”

I fall into step beside him, the beautifully manicured grass a bright green that looks like a highlighter. We move past the pool, past the edge of the property where the path dips slightly toward the water.

And there, sitting just beyond the private stretch of beach, gently rocking against the dock, is a boat… Well, it’s more than that. It’s a yacht or at least what I imagine a yacht is.

We walk out along the dock, the water lapping softly below us. Up close, it’s even more impressive—multiple levels, shaded seating, a sleek interior visible through the tinted glass.

And then I see the name, painted in elegant script along the back.

KYLIE.

I slow, my gaze catching on it for a second too long.

It’s soft. Feminine. Because suddenly, the thought presses in, uninvited and impossible to ignore. I’m probably not the first girl he’s brought here.

Julian Langley—this man who has it all—doesn’t exist in a vacuum. He’s lived and loved, I’m sure. And he must’ve brought people to places like this long before I ever showed up.

I’ve dated enough to understand how that works. Not a lot—and never anything serious—but enough false starts to recognize the pattern. Guys who liked me until life got complicated.

“You okay?” Julian asks, his voice closer now.