Page 57 of Kisses and Paperclips

She led me into one of the smaller conference rooms where a tray of neatly arranged pastries, fruit, and carafes of coffee waited, like we were about to sit down for a team meeting.

But there was no one else.

She slid into a seat without ceremony and started plating a bagel like she hadn’t just pulled me out of Serena’s office on some made-up excuse about a tour.

Now I saw it for what it was.

A play.

A redirect.

She just wanted me away from Serena.

“I want you to stay away from her,” she said plainly, not even bothering to look up as she reached for the cream cheese.

I raised a brow, leaning a hip against the table. “That’s interesting. Weren’t you the one who told me to keep an eye on her?”

“I did,” she replied, tone clipped, spreading cream cheese with the kind of controlled aggression only powerful women and lifelong mothers could manage. “Just not with your pants, Julien.”

I blinked. “Coffee?” She added sweetly, like she hadn’t just dropped that bomb in a brunch tone.

“Wow,” I muttered, pouring myself a cup and taking a long sip.

“I’m serious,” she added, finally meeting my gaze. “Don’t complicate things. She’s focused, brilliant, and already on edge. She doesn’t need you distracting her.”

“You mean she doesn’t need me uncovering whatever the hell you’re trying to keep from me,” I said, voice calm. Controlled. But sharp enough to land.

She smiled tightly, like I’d confirmed a theory. “You always were smart. Just remember, Julien, this isn’t a game. And you’re not here to fall in love.”

I stared at her, pulse steady. “Who said anything about love?”

She took a bite of her bagel, like that answer didn’t shake her at all.

I leaned back in my chair, balancing my coffee cup in one hand. “Little late to start giving me advice about women, don’t you think?”

She didn’t flinch. “We’re not talking about women. We’re talking about Serena.”

Her tone changed when she said her name. Not sharp. Not cold. Just… wary. Like she respected her, but didn’t like how much.

“She does her job well,” she added, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “The staff respects her. They’d follow her into a fire if she asked.”

I tilted my head. “Then why don’t you trust her?”

My mother’s lips pressed into a line. “Call it intuition,” she said after a beat. “Or maybe I’ve just been in this game long enough to know when someone’s playing their own.”

I didn’t respond right away. Let the silence stretch while I studied her. The calm way she buttered a croissant like she hadn’t just accused the woman running her company of being a threat.

Then she looked at me, her eyes cool, voice even. “Whatever’s going on between the two of you, I want you to end it.”

There it was. The command behind the casual.

But that was the thing about telling me what to do—especially when it came to a woman like Serena. If my mother knew me half as well as she thought she did, she’d know one thing for sure.

Her saying that?

Only made me want Serena more.

Chapter 11

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