Page 92 of Silent Oaths
Ilean back in my chair, folding my arms behind my head and kicking my boots up onto the desk, a grin tugging at my lips. “Youwant something,Juju, or are you just here to watch me play with my knives and think about my tragic childhood?”
Heraises a brow as he walks around the desk and sits on the edge, nursing his drink, watching me like he’s waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Yeah.He’snot here to hang out.He’shere to play.
AndI’mmore than ready.
Julianswirls the whiskey in his glass, eyes flicking to the knife still resting between my fingers.
“Youalways this jumpy when you’re alone?” he asks casually.
Igrin, twirling the blade again, slower this time. “OnlywhenI’mthinking about you.”
Thatearns me the faintest twitch of a smile.Notquite a smirk, but close.
Hesips the whiskey again. “Isaw your aim,” he says, nodding toward the wall, where my mother’s portrait still hangs, the knife embedded deep between her eyes.
“Wereyou watching me through the surveillance, dear brother?”
Heshrugs. “Niceshot.”
“Sheearned it.”
Julianjust looks at me, long and hard, like he sees past the joke, past the grinIwear like armor.Hehas always been able to cut through the noise without needing a blade.
“Youalright?” he asks, and the question lands heavier thanIexpect.
Ishould say yes and throw back some flippant comment, redirect the conversation, toss the spotlight somewhere else, butIdon’t.
Instead,Ilook up at him. “DoIlook alright?”
“No, but you don’t look like you need saving, either.”
Thecalm and steady way he calls me out pisses me off and makes me want to kiss him in the same breath.
Julianleans forward, setting his glass down on the desk between us.Hebraces his hands on either side of it, leaning in until his face is just inches from mine.Hisvoice drops.
“Max, if you want me to go, say it now.Otherwise…”
Therest floats between us like smoke.
Ilower the knife to the desk, the tip dragging a slow line through the wood grain.
“Inever want you to go.Youknow that.”
Theheat in his eyes flares, and suddenly, the space between us feels much smaller.
Julianstraightens, just enough to slide around the desk and into my space, close enough for his thigh to press against mine.
“Good,” he murmurs. “BecauseI’mnot just here to talk tonight.”
Heleans in, brushing his lips against mine in that slow, teasing way that always drives me a little mad.
Fuck,Ineedhim.
Hegrabs the knife off the desk and presses it against my neck, right at the most dangerous spot, andIgroan—of course, it turns me on.
Julianknows whatIneed, exactly whenIneed it.Hemust’ve seen something in my eyes tonight, maybe even caught it on the cameras.Hecame to my rescue without asking, even though he still insistsIdon’t need saving.
