Chapter 2 - The Billionaire’s Safe HouseThe private elevator of the penthouse at 432 Park Avenue moved so smoothly I didn't feel the ascent, but my ears popped as we broke through the clouds into the glittering Manhattan night.
I sat rigidly on the edge of a custom cream-colored velvet sofa, Julian’s heavy jacket still wrapped securely around my shoulders. My black dress was drying stiffly, the smell of cheap brut champagne clinging to the fabric.
Julian walked out of the master suite carrying a plush, oversized cashmere bathrobe and a warm, damp towel. He knelt on the floor in front of me with a gentleness that completely defied his intimidating reputation.
“Here,” he said softly, handing me the robe. “The guest bathroom is through that archway. Take your time, hot water is endless, and I’ve asked my housekeeper to lay out fresh clothes.”
I looked down at him, my mind spinning through a chaotic cyclone of disbelief. “Julian... why did you do that back there? Why did you call me your fiancée?”
Julian stood up, resting his hands against the back of the sofa, looking down at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.
“Because it wasn't a lie, Ava,” he said quietly.
I stared at him. “What are you talking about? We met three weeks ago when I catered the Midtown acquisition dinner!”
“We met three years ago,” Julian corrected with a faint, wry smile. “At a tiny, dingy community center in Brooklyn where you were volunteering to tutor immigrant kids while working two jobs and going to night school. You spilled an entire tray of juice down the front of my shirt, looked me dead in the eye, told me I looked like a Wall Street vulture who needed more Vitamin C, and handed me an orange.”
My jaw dropped. Memories flickered through the fog of my overworked brain—a tall, exhausted man in a cheap suit who had looked as lost as the kids he was trying to mentor.
“That... that was you?” I whispered.
“That was me,” Julian nodded. “I watched you for three years, Ava. I watched you break your back supporting a dead-weight architecture student who didn't appreciate your worth. I watched you sell your grandmother’s bracelet to pay his tuition while he cheated on you with socialites. And when he finally dumped you by text, I waited for the right moment to step in and remind you that you are worth a kingdom.”
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“You... you’ve been watching me?” I felt a strange mixture of terror and overwhelming validation.
“Every step of the way,” Julian admitted, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glowing sprawl of the city. He turned back to me, his expression turning dead serious. “And now, Damian Cross is about to find out what happens when you steal from a dragon.”
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