Chapter 13
1744 Words
Sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains, painting soft patterns across Kya’s room. She stirred awake, the weight of last night’s conversation with her father still pressing faintly against her chest. For a moment, she thought she had dreamt it all—the decree, the dinner, Julian’s warning. But the quiet hum of voices downstairs told her otherwise.
Pulling on a robe, she padded down the hallway, her bare feet silent against the polished wood. As she reached the landing, she froze.
Julian Gray was sitting in her parents’ living room.
Not in his usual tailored suit, not with the cold, commanding presence she had grown accustomed to. Instead, he wore a simple gray sweater and dark jeans, his hair still damp from a morning shower, his posture relaxed against the sofa. He looked… casual.
Kya blinked, startled. “Julian? What are you doing here?”
He glanced up, and for the first time she saw something different in his eyes—warmth, amusement, a softness that didn’t belong to the Julian she knew from the office.
“Waiting for you,” he said simply, his voice lighter than usual. “Your father let me in.”
She tightened her robe, still caught off guard. “You’re in my parents’ house. At eight in the morning. Dressed like… like a normal person.”
Julian’s lips curved faintly, his tone teasing. “Disappointed?”
Kya’s cheeks warmed despite herself. “Surprised.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his smile subtle but genuine. “I thought I’d try being a little more… approachable today. You looked like you needed it last night.”
Her heart skipped, the memory of his smirk and his warning—Don’t fall for me—flashing back. Yet here he was, friendlier, softer, almost sweet.
Kya crossed her arms, trying to mask her smile. “Approachable Julian Gray. That’s new.”
Julian chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Don’t get used to it. It’s only for you.”
“Why are you here so early?” she asked, her tone caught between suspicion and amusement.
Julian leaned back against the sofa, his sweater stretching across his shoulders, his smile faint but genuine. “Because I wanted to see you before the day swallowed us whole. And because I thought you might need a reminder that not everything has to be so heavy.” He cleared his throat. “I also wanted to take you out. Breakfast. Just us. No fathers, no grandfathers, no conditions.”
Kya blinked, surprised. “Breakfast?”
Julian nodded, his tone lighter than she was used to.
“There’s a little place I go to sometimes. Quiet, good coffee, no one who cares about last names. I thought you might like that.”
Her heart skipped, the casualness of it disarming. This wasn’t the Julian Gray who commanded boardrooms or carried the weight of Reginald Whitmore’s legacy. This was someone else—someone who could tease her, make her laugh, and invite her out like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Are you up for it?”
Kya shook her head, trying to hide her smile. “Fine. Breakfast. But if you keep showing up at my parents’ house unannounced, I’m going to start charging you rent.”
Julian leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Then I’ll just have to move you into the house I bought. Rent‑free.”
Her breath caught, the words hanging between them like a promise.
Kya froze, her breath catching. “House?”
Julian rose smoothly from the sofa, slipping his hands into his pockets, casual yet deliberate. “Yes. I’ll show you after breakfast. Consider it… our next step.”
Her pulse quickened, torn between defiance and curiosity. He had already planned ahead, already carved out a space for them. And though she wanted to scoff, to insist she would never fall for him, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder what kind of home Julian Gray had chosen for them.
Kya excused herself upstairs, taking a quick shower to wash away the heaviness of the night before. She dressed casually—soft jeans, a cream sweater, and flats—her makeup minimal, just enough to brighten her features. She caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled faintly. It wasn’t the polished glamour of La Fontaine, but it matched Julian’s casual look perfectly.
When she returned to the living room, Julian’s gaze lifted instantly. His eyes lingered, warm and unguarded.
“You look…” he paused, a rare smile tugging at his lips, “…beautiful.”
Kya felt heat rise to her cheeks, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “It’s just casual,” she muttered, trying to deflect.
Julian leaned forward, his voice softer. “Exactly. And it suits you.”
Her blush deepened, and she turned quickly toward the door, unwilling to let him see how much his words affected her.
Outside, a sleek Range Rover Autobiography waited at the curb, polished black with tinted windows. A driver stood ready, opening the door as Julian approached. He gestured for Kya to step in first, his hand brushing lightly against hers as she slid into the backseat.
Julian followed, settling beside her. The SUV’s spacious interior wrapped them in quiet comfort, the hum of the city muted beyond the glass.
“I brought the driver so we could talk,” Julian said, his tone casual but deliberate. “No distractions.”
Kya arched a brow, teasing. “You mean so you could keep me trapped in conversation.”
Julian smirked. “Exactly.”
The SUV pulled smoothly into traffic, carrying them toward a quieter part of the city. After a few turns, the driver stopped in front of a charming corner café with ivy climbing its brick walls and warm light spilling from its windows.
Julian glanced at her, his voice lighter than she had ever heard it. “Welcome to The Morning Nest. Best coffee in the city. And now… our place.”
Kya blinked, surprised. “Our place?”
Julian’s smile was subtle but certain. “Yes. You’ll see. Once you taste the pancakes, you’ll never want breakfast anywhere else.”
Her heart skipped, caught between amusement and something deeper. She shook her head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”
Julian leaned closer, his voice low, teasing. “Ridiculously charming. You’ll admit it eventually.”
And as the driver opened the door for them, Kya realized she was smiling—really smiling—for the first time in days.
The Range Rover Autobiography glided to a stop in front of the ivy‑clad café. The driver stepped out, opening the door with practiced ease. Julian gestured for Kya to go first, his hand brushing lightly against hers as she slid out.
Inside, the café was warm and inviting, sunlight spilling across rustic wooden tables and shelves lined with jars of honey and fresh flowers. The scent of coffee and butter filled the air, wrapping them in comfort.
Julian guided her to a corner booth, away from prying eyes. He waited until she sat before sliding in beside her, not across from her.
Kya raised a brow. “You’re sitting next to me?”
Julian smirked. “Of course. Easier to steal your pancakes this way.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
“You should smile more often,” his voice low but Kya heard it and chose not to comment.
The waitress arrived, and Julian ordered without hesitation: two cappuccinos, a stack of blueberry pancakes, and a plate of eggs with smoked salmon. Kya added a fruit parfait, amused at how easily he took charge even in something as simple as breakfast.
When the cappuccinos arrived, Julian slid one toward her. “Try it. Best in the city.”
She lifted the cup, the foam rich and velvety, and took a sip. Her eyes widened. “Okay… you might be right.”
Julian leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers. “I’m always right.”
Kya rolled her eyes, but her blush betrayed her. “Don’t get used to it.”
As the pancakes arrived, Julian cut into them, placing a piece on her plate before serving himself. “See? Our place. The Morning Nest. From now on, this is where we start our days.”
Kya’s heart skipped, the casual certainty in his words disarming. He wasn’t just teasing—he was quietly weaving her into his life, piece by piece.
She tried to deflect, spearing a blueberry. “You’re planning too far ahead.”
Julian’s gaze lingered on her, warm and steady. “Not far ahead. Just enough to know you’ll be here.”
Breakfast stretched longer than either of them expected. Between sips of cappuccino and stolen bites of pancakes, Kya found herself laughing more than she had in weeks. Julian, casual and warm, seemed almost like a different man—still sharp, still deliberate, but with a softness reserved only for her.
When they finally stepped back into the Range Rover Autobiography, Julian gave a quiet nod to the driver. The SUV pulled away from the café, but instead of heading back toward her parents’ home, it wound through quieter streets, past rows of tall trees and gated lanes.
Kya frowned, glancing at him. “This isn’t the way home.”
Julian’s smirk returned, subtle and knowing. “No. I told you earlier—I want to show you something.”
Her pulse quickened. “What is it?”
He leaned back, his voice low, deliberate. “Our next step.”
The SUV slowed, turning into a private drive. At the end stood a modern estate, glass and stone framed by manicured gardens. The house rose proudly, elegant yet inviting, every detail whispering of permanence.
Kya’s breath caught. “Julian…”
Julian’s gaze lingered on her, steady and unyielding, but softer than she had ever seen. “I bought it for us. A place where no one else’s conditions matter. Just ours.”
Her heart raced, torn between defiance and something dangerously close to longing. She wanted to scoff, to remind him she’d never fall for him. But as the SUV rolled to a stop before the house, she couldn’t ignore the truth: Julian Gray had already planned their future.
And whether she admitted it or not, she was stepping straight into it.
- Writer
