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I feign ignorance and go back to reading the tablet. "Wednesday is your international‘charm their pants off’with the defense contractors from Europe. Try not to start World War III, okay?"
He tips his head back and lets loose a deep laugh. I love it when he laughs freely like this. "Charm their pants off?” he repeats.
I nod. "It's with Levi Perry; you need to win him over. We need to get those contracts signed to get into Europe. So, charm the pants off him," I smirk.
"Thursday, you have a board meeting to discuss the quarterly financials and strategic investments. And on Friday, you're the keynote speaker at the International Arms and Security Conference. And next week, we have to fly to D.C. You’re presenting to the Secretary of Defense. Did you go over the slides I sent you?"
I look up at Julian, waiting for his acknowledgment.“Did I overwhelm you?” I ask, feeling the weight of the empty coffee cup in my hand.“I drank too fast. Get ready for Poppy on jitters,” I joke, then I bobble my head like a bobblehead doll on a dashboard. I can’t help it; being stupid and silly with or without Harper comes naturally.
Julian doesn’t laugh, but he does smile. It’s slow and sweet like he’s savoring the first and last bite of a dessert.“I love you,” he says.
I officially slam down the brakes and stop wobbling my head. I freeze in my chair. I still feel giddy when he says that. I should raise my hand and pinch my forearm to see if this is real. I lower my head, hiding my grin.“I love you, too.”
He’s been taking extra care to show me just how much he loves me. Being violated, having something stolen or pillaged from you, well, that’s one monster you have to fight, but the aftermath is another. There’s learning how to trust again, struggling not to fear, and acquainting yourself with your body and how it has changed. Innocence is lost, but that doesn’t mean your future has to be adrift too.
It’s taken me a long time to realize this and accept it. I can’t change the past, but I can change my future.
That’s just me; It’s not Julian or Harper. The people I care about have to learn how to come to terms with what happened, too. It's important to remember that.
I worried to the point of utter unrest that Julian would not touch me the way he had. He’d hesitate and check and question every blink or gesture I made when we had sex. I worried he’d see me as this fragile, broken vase, set me aside, too scared to use again.
I’ve witnessed his silence when he thinks I’m not watching, his eyes growing distant, plotting. I’ve seen his eyes searching mine to make sure I know I’m loved and cared for. These past few days, he has shown my body and my soul what lovewithrespect is.
He’s given me time in the sense that he hasn’t spoken Andrew’s name again. Harper hasn’t, either. It’s like Julian and her have a secret club I’m not invited to regarding the case.
I should want to know. Maybe I’m still running as I choose to focus on work and not what Andrew has continued to do. Even if I am running, it’s more like a relay race. Other people have my back, and my shoes have never felt lighter.
With a clearing of his throat, Julian straightens, then it’s back to business.“Can we reschedule the D.C. meeting?”
“No,” I deadpan.“You might be CEO, but this is with the Secretary of Defense. They call us, not the other way around.”
He rubs his jaw again, his eyes looking distant,“If I ever left this job, would you follow me?”
Um… say what?“What?” I lower the schedule to my lap.
His hand drops, and now he’s looking right at me.“If I left my job as CEO, would you come with me?”
I feel like he wants a simple answer, but this is a loaded question. I sink my teeth into my lip, a nervous habit that probably just smudged my lipstick. Ugh.
“Yes,” I reply honestly. I have no clue where this is coming from, but I can literally see the tension easing off his shoulders.“But, fair warning: left to my own devices—” I give the tablet in my hand a little shake for emphasis,“without meetings to orchestrate, research to bury myself in, or schedules to micromanage, you might just find me unbearable. I color code,” I confess, as though it's a sin.“Everything. You’ve never ventured into my drawers, have you? They’re organized with military precision, every item folded, psycho style, and then arranged by color.” I purse my lips, bracing for his reaction.
“I even went so far as to label my panty drawer. What can I say? You might be right. I might just love my label maker more than your cock."
He makes a whispered snorting sound as he tries to cover up his laugh, and then he looks up at me, his eyes full of lust. The kind of desire that has my insides spiraling down a slide so they can land directly on his lap.
“What kind of labels?” he asks, his face flushed. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, his fingers nervously fiddling with the fabric.
I shrug.“You know, all the sexy stuff. Thongs, crotchless, granny panties.”
"Is that an invitation to take a look?" he asks, his voice dropping to a huskier tone.
“By all means, but don't say I didn't warn you. The granny panties are high-rise; I'm taking up to my tits sexy.”
He shakes his head; his grin stretches from ear to ear.“Did I mention how much I love you?”
“You say that now,” I smirk.
***
