Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
When Julian walks in, I raise an eyebrow. “Do all corporate megalomaniacs take interior design classes? This is very ‘serial killer chic’—very Martha-Stewart-meets-Hannibal-Lecter.”
His perfectly controlled expression twitches. Just slightly. Good.
“I see why he likes you,” Julian says, settling into an armchair across from me. “You share his . . . particular sense of humor.”
“If this is where you launch into your villain origin story, can we skip to the highlights? The chloroform gave me a headache.”
My pulse quickens at my own daring. Every word is a gamble—too submissive and he’ll know he has power over me, too defiant and he might decide I’m not worth keeping alive. I can feel the silk rope digging into my wrists, and the urge to struggle against it is almost overwhelming. But I force myself to stay still, to keep my breathing even. Show no weakness. Give him nothing.
He studies me for a long moment, and I see something flicker in his eyes—something that makes me think of a cobra sizing up its prey. “Did Cole ever tell you how we met?”
I keep my voice steady, neutral. “No. He hasn’t.”
“I found him,” Julian continues as if I hadn’t spoken, “fresh out of business school, brilliant but raw. Unpolished. I saw myself in him—that same hunger, that same drive.” His voice takes on an almost wistful quality. “He was like a son to me.”
“And Claire?” I ask, the name slipping out before I can stop myself. “Did you ‘find’ her too?” His face darkens instantly, and I know I’ve struck a nerve.
“I invented Claire,” he seethes. “She was nothing before me.”
“Really? Because I was under the impression you were nothing without her.”
Julian’s hand moves so fast I barely see it before his palm connects with my cheek. The sting brings tears to my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
“Don’t speak unless I ask you to,” he hisses. “Learn your place.”
Motherfucker, that hurt! But I refuse to show it. I refuse to give the man the power even though I’m damn near panicked right now.
“Why don’t we skip to the part where you explain why I’m here?” My voice is quieter than I intend, but steady. “Why you took me from my home on Christmas Eve.”
His smile is cold, precise. “Christmas Eve. I chose it carefully. Five years ago, it was Christmas Eve when Cole destroyed everything.” His voice drops lower, almost intimate. “I thought it fitting that he should lose something precious on the same night.” He stands abruptly, pacing the room.
I keep my expression neutral. I’m not going to give away anything more than I have to.
“Claire was my wife.” He spits the words like they taste bitter. “We could have made so much money if it wasn’t for Cole.” He practically sneers the word.
I remain silent, watching the way his composure cracks when he speaks about her. Each word reveals more about Cole’s past, about the darkness that still haunts him.
Julian’s pacing brings him to a wall safe I hadn’t noticed before. He opens it with practiced movements, removing something wrapped in black velvet.
“Look at this craftsmanship,” he says, unwrapping what I now see is a necklace of such intricate detail it takes my breath away. “Claire’s signature. The way she layered metal and stone . . . no one could match her vision.” His fingers trace the delicate metalwork with an unsettling intimacy. “She created pieces for the most exclusive clients. Never asked questions about where the diamonds came from. Until . . .”
His voice hardens. “Do you know what happens to profits when someone starts asking inconvenient questions about diamond origins?” He folds the velvet around the necklace like he’s wrapping a wound. “Cole filled her head with noble ideas about right and wrong. Made her forget about loyalty.”
He moves to the window, staring out at the snow that’s started to fall. “I tried to reason with her. Told her to think about everything we’d built together.” His hand presses against the glass. “The night she tried to leave, it was snowing. Just like this.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop as he turns back to me. “A tragic accident. Black ice on a mountain road. No guardrail. They found the car three hundred feet down.” He gives a sad smile but his eyes are chips of ice. “Leaving behind a heartbroken husband.”
I feel a fierce pride in Cole, in the man he chose to become. “That’s when it started, isn’t it? Cole’s ‘war’ against you. He knew what you’d done.”
“He blamed me for her death. Said I’d killed her as surely as if I’d pushed the car off that cliff myself.” Julian carefully rewraps the necklace. “That’s when he made it his mission to dismantle everything I’d built. With her blood money, he called it.”
I shift in my chair, testing the ropes. Still secure. But for the first time, I’m grateful for every paranoid security measure Cole ever insisted on. The cameras I complained about, the trackers I teased him for, Knox’s constant surveillance that used to drive me crazy—it all means something very different now. They’ll have footage of Julian’s men. They’ll know exactly who took me, how many there are, what they’re driving.