Page 59 of Kisses and Paperclips

“For what? Showing off in front of your man?” he said, arms folded tight across his chest. His lips were pursued in that dramatic way only Steven could pull off. Annoyed, yes, but not pissed. If he were still pissed, he wouldn’t be standing here. Boss or not.

“Julien’s not my man,” I muttered into my glass.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, already walking away.

But even after he disappeared into the crowd, my father’s name still echoed in my chest like a warning bell I kept trying to silence. The thing about warning bells is that they don’t stop just because you refuse to hear them.

“Nice dress.”

The voice slid over me like spilled champagne. Smooth, expensive, and everywhere all at once. I turned, and there he was: Julien, leaning against the bar like his tuxedo was personally tailored by temptation itself. That smile of his, my damn kryptonite.

“You look like you just got caught by the boss you’ve been avoiding,” he said, swirling his drink, eyes sharp beneath the charm.

I took a deliberate step back, my heels biting into the floor. “Maybe I just did.”

His gaze flicked past me, scanning the crowd like he already knew exactly what he was looking for. “Here with a date?”

“No,” I scoffed. Where the hell did that—. Right. Steven’s little performance.

Julien’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. “So you’re not the walking cliché? Sleeping with the secretary?”

My mouth fell open. “Steven?” The laugh that burst out of me was half shock, half disbelief. “Oh my God. You’re serious.”

He shrugged, casual, but his eyes didn’t move. Stayed locked on mine like they were trying to read between my laughs. “Can’t blame me. He had his hands all over you.”

“Newsflash, Julien… I’m not Steven’s type.”

Julien took a slow sip of his drink, savoring it like he was trying to make me squirm. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low enough to sink under my skin, “you’re everyone’s type.”

That stopped me. Just long enough for the heat to creep up the back of my neck.

The air between us shifted. Slowed. Thick with everything we weren’t saying, and everything we remembered too well.

I tilted my head, letting my eyes drag over him slowly.

“What about you? You here with a date?” I asked it like a joke, but the bite underneath wasn’t even thinly veiled.

Julien’s mouth curved into that cocky, aggravating smile he wore like cologne—bold, expensive, and completely unnecessary.

“Maybe,” he said, like it didn’t matter. Like I wasn’t standing here half-wondering who the hell he might’ve shown up with.

“Maybe?” I raised a brow, keeping my tone cool even as something sharp twisted in my stomach.

He shrugged, easy. The move tugged at his tuxedo in a way that should’ve been illegal.

“Didn’t realize I had to get your permission first.”

“It better not be someone we work with.”

That made him pause. Just slightly. Then he stepped in closer, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice a notch lower now, his eyes locked on mine.

“Because it’s messy. And inappropriate.”

His brow lifted, “Really?”

“Yes.”

---