Page 49 of Candy Cane Chains

When he finally comes back, I slide onto the counter, the cool marble seeping into my skin. "Hey." My fingers catch his sleeve as he passes, tugging him between my legs. "Talk to me."

Julian's smile doesn't reach his eyes. His hands settle on my thighs, but the touch lacks his usual intensity. Even now, with me right in front of him, his attention keeps drifting to the phone on the counter.

"It's nothing." He presses a kiss to my forehead. The gesture feels mechanical, rehearsed.

I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing him closer. "Doesn't look like nothing." My fingers trace the tension in his shoulders, finding knots of stress I've never felt there before. "You're somewhere else right now."

His jaw clenches. For a moment, I catch a glimpse of something dark in those ice-blue eyes before he masks it. "Work stuff. Nothing for you to worry about."

The dismissal stings. I drop my hands to his chest, feeling his heart beat steady and strong beneath my palm. "I just…I didn't think you'd act like this."

"Like what?" His tone carries an edge I've never heard directed at me.

"This." I gesture between us. "Making me feel like I'm not as important as whatever is going on there." I wave toward his phone.

As if to prove my point, it buzzes again. Julian's eyes flick to it, his fingers twitching against my thighs. The movement sets something off in my chest - a mixture of hurt and frustration that burns hot beneath my skin.

"See? That's exactly what I mean." I grab his chin, forcing his gaze back to mine. "Whatever's going on has you bothered and now you are ignoring me because of it." I cross my arms. "Why'd you even come home if you were going to act like this?"

His smile turns sharp, dangerous. "Some things are better left unsaid." He tugs my arm down. "And I thought you were my good girl? Why are you being a brat?"

"Why are you ignoring me?"

He pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm not, sweetheart."

The endearment feels like ice water down my spine, the words almost threatening. He's never used it as a weapon before, never wielded his affection like a shield to keep me at bay.

He sighs when he sees something on my face, and then he scoops me up in his arms. I huff, not curling into him as he takes me to the living room.

Settling me on his lap, he brushes a kiss to my temple. "I'm right here with you." He picks up the remote, pressing play on the movie I was watching earlier, and I find it hard to stay mad when his hand starts to work up and down my exposed thigh. "Relax. Let's watch the movie."

And despite all the things that tell me I should be on edge, I should press harder, I do sink into him. Julian has always protected me, taken care of me. And I let him do the same now.

25

IVY

Icurl up on Julian's luxurious couch, balancing his spare laptop on my knees while the scent of caramel and dark chocolate wafts from the kitchen. I couldn't find the one I usually use, but this was in his office, and I'm sure he won't mind.

The movie plays on the TV - some romantic comedy I've been meaning to watch - but my thoughts keep drifting to the treats cooling on the marble counter. Even scrolling through my socials doesn't distract me from the excitement I feel as I wait for Julian to come home.

Dark chocolate truffles with sea salt. Caramel-filled chocolates dusted with gold. Raspberry ganache squares topped with edible flowers. Each one crafted with precision, just the way Julian likes his world ordered.

In the kitchen, the chocolate tempering machine hums steadily. I spent an hour getting the temperature perfect, watching the digital display until it hit exactly 88.7 degrees. Julian's attention to detail must be rubbing off on me.

A smile tugs at my lips as I picture his reaction. He always maintains that controlled facade, but I've learned to read thesubtle signs - the slight widening of his eyes, the curl to the edges of his lips, the way his features smooth and look almost gentle.

The movie continues playing, but I'm lost in thoughts of Julian's hands, how they'll feel trailing down my spine later. How his ice-blue eyes will darken when he tastes the truffles I made just for him. Hopefully the way he'll reward me. It's been two days since I've had him in any way, and that is like an eternity for him.

I shift on the couch, warmth spreading through my chest. The treats aren't just desserts - they're a message. Each carefully crafted piece says what I'm not ready to voice. That I care about him, I watch him, I want to please him.

Maybe I'll find a way to say I love him. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve after all.

A timer chimes from the kitchen. Time to finish the last batch. I pause the movie, setting aside the laptop as I head back to my sweet creations. The afternoon stretches ahead, full of possibilities and promises wrapped in chocolate.

As I come to sit back down on the couch, though, I see something pop up in the corner of the laptop. The number makes my stomach drop. I know those digits by heart - used to answer them at all hours, used to dread them lighting up my phone. Travis.

My feet carry me back to the couch before my mind catches up. The message preview hovers there, demanding attention.

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