Julian~
I hated places like this.
Crystal chandeliers, velvet walls, and music that made your teeth ache. Too many people pretending to be human.
Tonight, the Windsor family, one of New York's oldest and most ruthless dynasties, hosted a banquet beneath the gilded chandeliers of the Langdon Hotel.
I stood at the edge of the Langdon ballroom, hands in my pockets, watching the spectacle unfold. Power, old money, polished lies—all of it dressed in silk and drowned in champagne. The laughter was hollow, the diamonds louder than the conversations.
But Aurora loved it.
She moved through the crowd like smoke, flashing that effortless grin, brushing cheeks, accepting compliments with a knowing tilt of her head. She thrived in rooms like this. Rooms full of masks.
He didn't.
She returned with two glasses, held one out. "Try to look like you're having fun."
"I'd rather set myself on fire."
She smirked. "Tempting. But not tonight."
He took the drink but didn't sip. "How many people here have tried to ruin your family?"
She leaned in, eyes shining. "At least ten. One of them's my godfather."
Julian gave a dry laugh. "Charming."
"It's tradition."
I watched her circle back into the crowd, greeting a woman in pearls. Julian stayed still, a monolith in the sea of performance. Aurora didn't need me here, yhe brought me anyway.
The party dragged on, a parade of sycophants and social climbers feigning interest in me. When the charade became unbearable, I slipped away to the bar.
She came back eventually, cheeks flushed, hair a little wilder than before. Her eyes held that edge of mischief that always came with too much noise and not enough self-control.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked, her voice syrupy-sweet, masking something—guilt, rebellion, amusement. Maybe all three.
"You're drunk," I said flatly.
"Me?" she laughed, reckless. "I only had two glasses."
"Four."
Her brow quirked, playful. "You were counting?"
"I was watching."
She moved closer, enough for her perfume to slip into my lungs. The slit in her gown parted as she leaned, revealing more than she probably realized—or maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.
"That's creepy."
"That's caution."
"Julian," she said, voice dipped in mockery and affection, "you don't need to babysit me."
"I'm not. I'm guarding my evening from becoming a headline."
She laughed again, throwing her head back like the world couldn't touch her. Wild, gilded, dangerous.
"God, you're no fun."
She was right. I wasn't.
And just like that, she was gone.
I turned back to my drink, let the noise settle around me like a dull ache. But then, there. A flicker at the far end of the bar, apart from the noise, apart from all of it.
Ava.
Standing alone, glass in hand, her gaze distant, like she was watching something unfold in a world just beyond this one.
I hadn't seen her since I dropped her off at her father's house a few days ago, fresh from the hospital.
Tonight, she looked like a different woman.
She wore a deep blue dress that hugged her frame, elegant and understated, with a slit that caught the light when she moved. Her hair was pulled back, soft curls framing her face, and a pair of silver earrings glinted as she turned her head.
My grip on my glass tightened. I hadn't expected to see her here. Not like this.
I crossed the room before I could stop myself.
When she turned and saw me, her eyes widened—just for a second. Then she masked it with a cool smile.
"Julian."
"Hello, Ava. Didn't expect to see you here."
She took a sip of her drink. "You and me both."
"You look... better. How are you?" I asked.
"I'm fine now," she said softly, her gaze steady on mine.
I studied her for a moment. "You look beautiful."
She gave a small smile, swirling the drink in her hand. "Thank you. You look good too. I didn't expect to see you again. I nearly didn't come tonight."
"Wasn't planning on coming either," I admitted. "My girlfriend dragged me here."
Something flickered across her face—quick, but I caught it.
Was that jealousy?
No. Couldn't be. She was married. I'd looked her up.
Married to a millionaire from an important family.
She looked away then, just for a moment, eyes scanning the ballroom like it could offer an escape.
Or maybe a distraction.
"I read the article," she said finally, her voice quiet but clear.
I blinked. "Which one?"
A small, humorless smile tugged at her lips. "The one that called you Manhattan's most dangerous investment."
I huffed a dry laugh. "They weren't wrong."
She laughed sweetly.
"Did you come alone." I asked her.
She swirled the drink in her hand before answering. "No. My husband's family was invited. I got dragged along for appearances. I hate these events."
I chuckled, but the sound faded fast. "Ava," I said quietly, "I have to go for now. But I'll call you."
I held her gaze a second longer than I should have.
She nodded.
I left quickly. A man was dragging a clearly drunk Aurora toward the back.
"Relax, sweetheart. I'll take care of you," he was saying.
I didn't hesitate.
My fist smashed into his nose before he even saw me coming.
He went down swearing, clutching his nose as blood poured out.
Aurora sagged against me, dazed. How had she let herself get this drunk?
"Julian?" she whispered, confused.
"I've got you." I held her steady. "You're okay now."
She blinked slowly, trying to focus. "I didn't… I didn't know where I was."
"I know," I said, wrapping my coat around her. "Let's get you out of here."
I took the back exit to avoid the circus out front—paparazzi flashing their cameras, reporters shouting out names, hunting a headline.
She stumbled again. I caught her, then lifted her into my arms.
She didn't protest, just curled closer, small and shivering beneath my coat.
I carried her to the car, and drove straight home.