Chapter 2 - The Shadow in Midtown
Julian moved across the crowded lounge with a predatory, effortless grace. The ambient noise of finance workers and clinking glasses fell away into an uncomfortable murmur as he approached our sticky laminate table. He didn't look like an executive running late; he looked like a sovereign taking back stolen land.
The stranger holding my coat bag stiffened instantly. His arm dropped.
“Who are you?” Julian asked, his voice flat, icy, and lethal. He stepped between me and the dark-coated man, his broad shoulders entirely blocking my view of the stranger.
“I was just assisting the lady, sir,” the man said smoothly, stepping back a pace. “She seemed overwhelmed.”
“She is accompanied,” Julian replied, not raising his voice, yet every word cut through the air like a blade. “And you are leaving.”
The man hesitated, his eyes darting toward the neon-lit exit of the Blue Moon Lounge. For a second, a flash of something dark and dangerous passed across his face—not fear of a CEO, but the frustration of a interrupted operative. Then, bowing his head slightly, he turned and vanished into the crowded floor.
Julian didn't watch him go. He turned back to me.
I sat there, my glasses slightly crooked on the bridge of my nose, clutching my half-empty glass of ice water. The cranberry vodka had turned my brain into molasses, but the sheer proximity of Julian Cross—smelling of rain, expensive cedarwood, and cold coffee—was soberingly intense.
“Nora,” he said quietly. The hard, lethal edge in his tone dissolved into something impossibly soft. He knelt beside my chair so his storm-gray eyes were level with mine. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I whispered, shrinking back slightly. “Just... embarrassed. Extremely embarrassed.”
Behind him, Mara and Leo were practically holding their breath. Leo was staring at Julian as if he were looking at a mythical dragon that had suddenly landed in a dive bar.
“You’re coming with me,” Julian said. It wasn't an order; it was a promise. He picked up my leather shoulder bag, checked the strap, and extended his hand toward me.
“I can take a subway,” I offered weakly, staring at his large, manicured hand. The knuckles were dusted with dark hair, a heavy platinum watch glinting under the bar light.
“You are not taking a subway at midnight in midtown after a man tried to lure you into an unmarked vehicle,” Julian said. He grabbed my trench coat from the chair, holding it open for me with ridiculous tenderness. “Up, Nora.”
I stood up, swayed slightly, and immediately felt his hand settle at the small of my back. His palm was warm, solid, and impossibly grounding.
He turned to Mara and Leo. “Miss Bennett, Mr. Vance. Good evening. A town car is outside to take you both home safely. Charge it to the executive account.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cross,” Mara squeaked out, her red curls practically vibrating with vicarious romantic terror.
Julian guided me past the whispering patrons of the lounge out into the cool, damp Manhattan air. A sleek black Maybach was idling at the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the yellow streetlights. A uniformed driver held the rear door open.
Julian guided me inside the leather sanctuary of the backseat before sliding in beside me. The door closed, shutting out the roar of Midtown traffic into absolute, heavy silence.
I slumped into the soft leather, staring straight ahead at the walnut paneling.
“So,” I said into the quiet, my voice trembling slightly. “Am I fired tonight, or do I have until nine in the morning to pack my desk?”
Beside me, Julian leaned back, crossing one long leg over the other. He let out a slow, heavy breath, unbuttoning his vest.
“You think I drove across town at eighty miles an hour because I wanted to fire you?” he asked gently.
“I said you looked gorgeous in a suit,” I squeaked, burying my face in my hands. “I broke sixteen HR policies in three sentences.”
I heard a sound then—a low, deep rumbling sound.
I pulled my hands down and blinked through my glasses.
May you like
Julian Cross was smiling. Not his cold boardroom smirk, but a genuine, crooked, breathless smile that transformed his severe face into something breathtakingly handsome.
“You were correct,” he said, his gray eyes fixing on mine in the dim cabin light. “I do look gorgeous in this suit. But more importantly, Nora... who was that man?”
