Page 31 of Candy Cane Chains

"Impressive." He sets the menu down, turning me to face him. "You've exceeded my expectations, sweet girl."

My heart skips at the praise, at the intensity in those ice-blue eyes. I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. "So you approve?"

"Every detail." His thumb traces my jawline. "You have excellent taste."

The warmth of his approval spreads through me like honey, sweet and golden. I find myself leaning into his touch, craving more of that intoxicating validation. His expression softens with pride, and my smile grows wider.

"I want everything to be perfect for you." The words come out barely above a whisper.

"It will be." His other hand settles on my waist. "Thanks to you."

I grin and turn back to the menus before me. But as I do, I catch my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows along the side of his study, and for a moment I don't recognize the woman staring back.

My skin has a luminous quality I've never seen before, my amber-brown eyes bright and alive. Even my hair seems different, the burgundy highlights catching the late afternoon sun streaming through the glass.

Julian moves closer behind me like a shadow, his arm snaking around my waist. He pulls me back against his chest, the solid wall of him anchoring me in place. His expensive suit jacket brushes against my bare arms, the fabric cool and smooth.

"Look at us." His voice rumbles through his chest and into my back. "Look how perfectly you fit here."

In the reflection, we're a study in contrasts. His towering frame dwarfs my petite one, his dark suit a backdrop for the silky red cropped top and tiny shorts he has me in. His large hand splays across my stomach, fingers spanning almost the entire width of my waist. The way he holds me - possessive, protective - makes something deep inside me purr with satisfaction.

"We're quite the pair." His other hand comes up to brush my hair aside, exposing the crescent moon birthmark on my neck. "Like we were made for each other."

The reflection shows what I've been trying to deny - how right this feels, how natural. His ice-blue eyes meet mine in the glass, intense and unblinking. I watch as he lowers his head to press his lips against my birthmark, the gesture oddly intimate in our mirrored image.

"Do you see it now? How perfect we are together?"

I nod slowly, my lips parting as he starts to kiss up my neck. But watching myself - almost someone I don't recognize - it does something to me.

His words stay with me until later that night when I curl up in the bed alone. Julian is in the study, handling calls, and I needed to process. Spending time event planning, acting like this is my real life, has sent me spiraling a little.

I lie awake in our bed, staring at shadows dancing across the ceiling. The silk sheets whisper against my skin as I shift, unable to get comfortable despite the mattress that probably costs more than I'd make in a month.

My hand drifts to my neck, to the spot where Julian's lips pressed against my birthmark. The phantom sensation lingers hours later, burning like a brand. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn't stop the memories from flooding in - his possessive touch, how perfectly I fit against him, how he was right.

We do seem to be perfectly made for each other.

A tear slides down my cheek, disappearing into the mattress beneath me. Then another. And another. Soon I'm curled on my side, silent sobs wracking my body as the truth I've been fighting crashes over me in waves.

I'm falling for him. For Julian Kane - the man who terrifies and thrills me in equal measure. The man whose very presence commands every room he enters. The man who - despite him seemingly not wanting me to know - kills people for a living.

My fingers clutch the sheets as more tears come. I don't know if I'm crying from fear of what this means, or relief at finally admitting it to myself. The emotion feels like it's tearing me apart, splitting me between who I was and who I'm becoming.

I press my face into the pillow to muffle a particularly sharp sob. The vanilla scent of my shampoo mingles with traces of Julian's cologne that seem to permeate everything in this house. Even here, in this room, I can't escape him. Don't want to escape him.

"What's happening to me?" I whisper into the darkness. The words taste like surrender on my tongue.

My chest aches with the weight of this revelation. Each tear that falls feels like acceptance, like letting go of the last threads of denial I've been clinging to. I'm falling for a dangerous man, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

16

JULIAN

As I stand at the window in the morning, drinking my coffee and taking in the city, I catch the glint of chrome - a silver Mercedes creeping past the house like a prowling animal. The fucker's driving slow enough to count the bricks. It's not the first time I've seen it, and I have since learned who drives it.

Travis Porter.

My jaw clenches as I watch him crane his neck. I don't know what he expects to see from the ground, knowing that I live in the penthouse.

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