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24
3 March
Chateau Balda
“He likes you,” Jamie said.
Juliana sat on a stool, pulled up to the bar. Standing on the other side with five wineglasses in front of him, Jamie met her gaze. He ducked his head as he found the wine opener. With his attention engaged with drink making, Juliana contemplated his statement. She couldn’t deny the hint of surprise coloring his words.
Since the elevator doors had slid open hours ago, things between Rowan and her had been interestingly easy. They didn’t speak much on the drive to the chateau, allowing the road, Noah, and Violet to provide the soundtrack. With his hands engaged with his crutches, he couldn’t touch her on the way up the walk or through the door. It didn’t matter. She’d felt his caress just the same, like his hand was positioned on her lower back, effortlessly guiding her.
Even now, having stepped away from the dining room to help Jamie with drinks, her body was a live wire without its ground. He was in the next room, and she knew he was there. It wasn’t an intellectual knowing. It was a tuning fork, still vibrating.
As he poured wine into the waiting glass, Jamie held Juliana’s gaze. “Don’t be offended, but I wasn’t sure I believed you.”
Juliana tilted her head. His words didn’t surprise her, as she considered Jamie their biggest hurdle to living this lie. Even knowing that, she’d thought Rowan and she had pulled off coupledom fairly well during their first family meeting. It was the familiarity of the fighting that had tipped the scales.
She shrugged. “I imagine you were gobsmacked.”
He moved the bottle of wine along the row of waiting receptacles, carefully measuring so each was filled to the same line. “Yes, there’s that,” he remarked, his eyes on his task. “The unlikelihood of it. His constant denials and persistent swiping at you after that fateful press conference.” Jamie looked up, his face a mask of almost anger. “I didn’t like it.” He placed the bottle onto the bar. “It was rubbish and mean.”
Juliana’s hand fluttered between them, batting away his concerns. “All an act,” she said, even as his words pierced her heart.
Jamie was right. Rowan’s snide comments in the press had been hurtful, but she had put it aside.
“A damn good one,” Jamie reiterated. “But I can forgive it all.”
Juliana breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t think Jamie really had a bad side, but regardless, she didn’t want Rowan on the wrong side of the family. Jamie was a bit of a linchpin in that regard. If he didn’t like Rowan, she doubted Ele would find it in her heart to support her. And Robert, well, he’d be hard enough, no matter what.
“Ask me why I can forgive him,” Jamie ordered as he handed her a glass of Bordeaux.
Juliana took a sip before she obliged him. “Why?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “Because of the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching.”
Juliana’s stomach fluttered, and warmth slipped through her. But she narrowed her eyes, afraid to believe what he was saying.
“It’s bloody disconcerting, watching Ele and you fall in love,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes drifting away from her, looking off into the distance.
Juliana shifted on the stool, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.
“I met Tristan in Chicago, long before he and Ele got serious. Even then, even with Tristan’s constant effervescent smile, when he spoke about Ele or heard her name, there was this look about him.” He paused and shook his head. “I’m doing a piss-poor job of explaining.”
“No,” Juliana said, “you aren’t. I know exactly what you are talking about.” She laughed then. “I just don’t think Rowan has that in him.”
Jamie returned his gaze to hers. They stared at each other for a prolonged moment before they both snickered.
“What are you two laughing at, and why is pouring some drinks taking you so long?” Ele asked from the doorway, where she leaned against the jamb.
Juliana rested her chin on her fist. “Jamie was just telling me about your adventure today.”
Ele rolled her eyes before she walked over to the bar and reached for a glass. Taking a healthy sip, she said, “You are a terrible liar.”
Oh, the irony.
When Jamie spoke, his voice was lower, barely above a whisper. “I was telling her I believed her now.”
Juliana’s belly sank. She hated lying to them. She knew she could tell them what was happening, and they would support her. But she’d promised Rowan she would keep the truth from them. It was going to kill her, and when everything was revealed, she knew she’d have to earn their trust all over again.
“Because of the way Rowan watches her, right? Who knew the bloke could actually smile like that?” Ele remarked, like she was commenting on the weather.
Jamie knocked Juliana’s arm, making her chin wobble on her hand. “See?”
Ele looked to Juliana. Then, she picked up three of the glasses. “I’ll let you two talk,” she said as she left them alone.
Juliana watched her go.
“She seems good,” she commented.
“Yes,” Jamie said, the word happy. “She’s quite amazing. I’m so proud of her.”
Juliana thought about the sister she’d known a year ago and the woman had who just left the room. The difference seemed astronomical. Ele had suffered from crippling panic attacks since their parents’ assassination and her kidnapping. It had been twelve long years. But since she’d met Tristan, she’d changed, embraced counseling, worked to change her story.
“You two are all right?” Juliana asked tentatively.
After the gala celebrating the winning of the World Championship Cup, Ele had experienced a public breakdown. Jamie had fired Robert, her bodyguard, and tried to send Ele to Africa. He was also the one to tip the press in Ele’s direction. Things had been tense between them.
“Things are a bit dodgy,” he said, sadness creeping into his voice. “I have to prove myself to her, but I don’t want to push too hard.”
Jamie took a healthy sip of wine, and Juliana sensed his anxiety over his estrangement with his twin sister. Juliana reached over the bar and squeezed his hand. He awarded her with a smile.
“But back to you. When we heard about the relationship”—he narrowed his eyes at her—“I was skeptical. Even our first meeting, I couldn’t be sure. But tonight, things seem different. More intimate between you two.”
Juliana tried to keep her face passive. Intimate. The word was a trip wire, bringing to mind those moments in the elevator. His commanding her to come to him. Her immediate response. The night on the floor beside him. His hands on her body. Warmth permeated her insides, and she felt the flush creep up from her chest. She grabbed her wine and hid behind a long sip. She replaced the glass.
“We’ll see if we survive our post-surgery proximity,” she quipped.
