Julian didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
Mark leaned forward. “Are you sure it wasn’t something you did?”
“I thought everything was fine. I threw a damn party, Mark. She smiled, danced, and laughed. And the next morning—boom—cold as stone.”
Mark shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t about you.”
Julian gave him a look.
“Okay, maybe it was about you,” Mark amended. “But if she won’t say it, you won’t know. And guessing won’t help.”
“I don’t guess,” Julian said flatly. “I act.”
“Yeah,” Mark muttered, standing. “And acting without clarity has cost you before.”
Julian’s jaw clenched.
He didn’t need clarity.
He needed control.
Later that week, Lexi walked into an industry gala alone. It wasn’t just another event—it was the event, and skipping it would’ve meant professional suicide. Julian was on
