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He gives me a questioning look before replying. "If Harper didn't work for the NSA, then I would be worried about having her as your friend, but she must be able to keep a secret. I'll provide layouts of the other jets to guide you, but please, no stripper poles.”
“You're entrusting me with an $80 million project.” I place a hand over my heart. I knew this job was a step up from my last job, but a multi-million-dollar project should require another degree. "What if I choose a completely pink interior?"
He shrugs nonchalantly. “It would certainly be a conversation starter with our partners.” His gaze meets mine squarely. “You can handle it. It's part of your job. Just ask if you have questions.”
“Good lord,” I mutter, my mind racing. “My family’s company was successful, but Henry doesn't have a private jet.”
Julian leans against my desk, massaging his injured shoulder. “You never talk about your other brother.”
I turn my back to him, creating a physical barrier. “Five-minute break is over, Julian.” There's a hint of lightness in my voice, an attempt to steer away from the gravity of our conversation. Deep down, I'm not ready to delve into that subject today. In the back of my mind, a nagging fear persists: while I've been scared of him becoming a monster, what if he starts to view me as one? I'm the woman responsible for her other brother's death.
He clears his throat, “You’re right. I apologize.”
I bend to grab the next package, my hands shaking slightly. “We need to fit this mail into your schedule. That stack,” I gesture to my desk, “is what I didn’t consider junk. It’s mostly party invitations and charity galas.”
“Fantastic,” he grumbles. “Just forward them to Kent. Whatever he doesn’t plan on attending, I’ll try to make.”
“I’m sure Kent will love that,” I kid, reaching for the contents of the next package.
“He’s better at social events than me. I can’t stand suits, but Kent can’t stop custom ordering them.”
I open the next package and look inside. There’s a bunch of photos. As I sort through them, my heart skips a beat. “Why is someone sending you pictures of Kent?” I blurt, flipping through candid shots of the youngest Sterling brother. One photo shows Kent in an intimate moment with a woman at a bar.
“Lovely,” I grimace, anger flaring at the thought of Harper seeing these.
Julian leans in, his gaze turning sharp and intense, like a soldier ready for battle. He flips through the photos, his expression darkening.
“What box did this come from?” His voice is cold, sending a shiver down my spine.
“What box?” His head snaps up, his hand clutching the photo tightly in the air.
I flinch, then immediately regret my reaction. Julian isn’t Andrew. He’s not a monster.
“Poppy,” his anger evaporates, replaced by concern. “Did you think I was going to hit you?”
I shake my head, unable to speak.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Hey, I’m back,” Levi interrupts, poking his head in, but Julian and I remain silent. Sensing the tension, Levi quickly retreats.
“Poppy,” Julian persists.
“It was nothing,” I insist, pointing to the photo in his hand. “Please, Julian, it was just a reaction. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” My eyes plead for understanding.
"I’d kill anyone who tried," he vows, his gaze locked with mine, filled with a storm of emotions. His eyes glance at the door, and then he crowds my space, cupping my cheek in his warm, strong hand. "I know we're at work, but I need to do this," he whispers. "I need you to know I’d never hurt you, Pumpkin."
He lowers his lips to mine before I can talk sense into either of us. His kiss isn’t slow and sweet. My soul? He just claimed it, plucking it from my body with his lips. It’s hot, passionate, moan-inducing.
My hands wrap around his wide, muscular back. I forget our location; I forget everything. I part my lips, our tongues connect, and my body ignites into a roaring flame.
"Julian," I moan as his hips press into mine. Hardness meeting softness. A perfect contrast. That’s exactly what Julian Sterling is, the opposite of everything I have known. His touch is sweet, tender, and respectful. His words are encouraging and always reassuring. He’s never tried to make me fear; he reinforces how he’s going to keep me safe.
I pull back from the kiss, and those three magical words, "I love you," almost escape from my lips. It feels true—I do love him. Not all love has to be slow to build. Love comes in many forms, and with Julian, it's sudden, like connecting the correct puzzle piece on the first try.
He glances at the door, which is still clear, then back at me. "Anytime you think of whoever hurt you, I want you to tell me. I’ll make you forget, Poppy." He bends down quickly and steals one more kiss from my swollen lips.
I look down, so flustered I might take flight like a hummingbird, as I tuck my hair behind my ear. “The pictures,” I whisper, trying to refocus.
