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Remembering how tender he used to be with me, I can only imagine how caring of a father he must be—an idea that, annoyingly, only makes him more alluring.
All of that, plus the fact that I can hardly control myself while I'm around him, is a dangerous combination. One I am in no position to play around with.
I take a step back, needing more distance to regain my composure, and the tension slowly dissipates. "Let's just check the security footage," I suggest, desperate for a break. "That will at least tell us if we need to worry about anyone on site."
Julian nods, relaxing a bit as we settle into an unspoken truce. "Alright, let's do that."
In the dim light of the security room, Julian and I lean in close to the monitor, the grainy footage flickering before us. We fast-forward through most of the night until the moment of intrusion appears, sudden and jarring.
A figure, dressed all in black with a hood pulled close around their face, appears on the screen. Coming from the door, they move with purpose through the Statuary, heading straight for my table. They linger there for a few minutes, doing God knows what to my equipment, before flinging the window wide open and disappearing down the fire escape.
"There!" I point, vindictively jabbing my finger at the screen. "Who is that? Can you tell?"
We both lean closer for a better look, my shoulder nudging Julian’s. We’re so close that I could reach over and touch that silky bun of hair at the nape of his neck. Run my finger along the sharp edge of his stubbled jaw. Trace the ink that dances over his neck and arms.
I need to get a grip. This is so not the time! What the hell is wrong with me?
Julian, oblivious to my inappropriate turmoil, squints at the screen, his brow knit in concentration. "It's impossible to see any defining features. The resolution's too bad."
I groan. “Can't you enhance it or something?”
Julian's eyes roll dramatically to me. “You know that's not a real thing, right?”
Frustration and embarrassment tangle within me, and I grasp recklessly at the only lead we have. "Look at the hoodie. That's the kind your guys wear, isn't it?" The accusation slips out, more from desperation than anything else.
He turns to fully face me, his expression a blend of disbelief and irritation. "Do you really want to get into this again?”
My mouth snaps shut, and he takes my silence as an opportunity to sigh and continue. “Natalie, half the town wears hoodies like that. I know we don't have much to go on, but that's not enough to consider it a lead."
The logic in his words does little to quell the rising tide of emotions within me, and I can't keep it from showing in my voice. "So now what? We just ignore the fact that someone is sabotaging our work because we can't make out their face?"
The tension between us sparks again, igniting with each word exchanged. That familiar undercurrent of something else—something that's been simmering beneath the surface since our encounter outside the diner—reappears, unwelcome and undeniable.
Julian's proximity, the intensity of his gaze, even in disagreement, sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. He's infuriating, yes, but compelling in his passion for the project, in his determination to find the truth. Not to mention unfairly sexy.
"I'm not saying we ignore it," he counters, his voice steady but vibrating with an energy that mirrors my own. "I'm saying we need more to go on before we start pointing fingers."
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away, leaving only me and Julian, and whatever this is that's pulsing between us. It's a dangerous game, this blend of conflict and attraction, and I'm treading a fine line between professional integrity and personal interest.
I didn’t even realize I’d been leaning closer to him, so close our hands almost touch. I wrench away, cheeks flushed, and fold my arms. How does he keep doing this to me?
"Fine," I concede, totally helpless to do anything else but agree with him. “But we still need to find out who's behind this."
“Don't you think we should let the police figure that out?” Julian asks.
“No!” The answer comes faster and louder than I intended as anxiety overcomes me. “A police investigation is only going to delay the renovation further. And if all of that gets back to my boss…” My face falls in my hands as I can't bring myself to say the words out loud. It'll just be one more thing that makes me look flighty and unreliable.
“Nat,” Julian begins tentatively, but I don't want to hear what he has to say.
“No, it's fine. Let's just deal with this ourselves, okay? Please?” I look back up at Julian, at his eyes flitting back and forth between mine.
Whatever he finds there must make him feel sorry enough for me to relent.
“Alright, Nat,” he concedes reluctantly. “Whatever you want.”
The rest of the security footage offers no further clues, its grainy images a dead end in our quest for answers. Dread falls heavy in my gut as Julian and I step out of the security room, the reality of the day's challenges looming large.
The sound of laughter drifts from the foyer, a stark contrast to the tension that's been building between Julian and me. Benny and Lauren, my assistant renovators, are already here, their easy camaraderie a reminder of the teamwork that's supposed to define this project.
