CHAPTER 11:THE ESCAPE
666 Words
The air in the ballroom seemed to crackle with tension.
Arthur Sterling’s insult—calling Elena a "commoner"—hung in the space between them like a toxic cloud. But before Elena could even process the sting of the word, Julian moved.
He didn't shout. He didn't make a scene. He simply stepped closer to Sterling, his height and breadth dwarfing the older man. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Arthur," Julian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "If you ever speak to my wife with anything less than absolute respect again, I will not just buy your company. I will bury it."
Sterling’s smirk faltered. For the first time, the shark looked uneasy.
Julian didn't wait for a response. He turned his back on his rival, his hand finding the small of Elena’s back.
"We’re leaving," he murmured to her. "Now."
He guided her through the crowd, not stopping for pleasantries. His grip on her waist was iron-tight, almost painful, but it wasn't out of anger at her. It felt like protection.
They burst out of the heavy velvet curtains and back into the cool night air. The paparazzi were still there, waiting like vultures, but Julian ignored them. He practically lifted Elena into the waiting limousine and climbed in after her.
"Drive," he ordered the driver. "Fast."
The door slammed shut, sealing them in the dark, quiet safety of the car.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Julian sat staring out the window, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek. He looked like a warrior coming down from a battle.
Elena watched him, her heart still racing from the encounter.
"You didn't have to do that," she said softly.
Julian turned his head slowly. "Do what?"
"Defend me like that. I know it's just a contract, Julian. I know I am a commoner. You didn't have to threaten him."
Julian let out a dark, humorless laugh. He loosened his bow tie, pulling it from his neck and tossing it onto the seat.
"You don't understand, Elena. Arthur Sterling is a predator. If he senses weakness, he attacks. If I let him insult you, he thinks I don't care about you. And if he thinks I don't care about you, he will know the marriage is fake."
He turned fully toward her, his eyes intense in the shadows of the passing streetlights.
"Besides," he added, his voice dropping lower. "I don't like it."
Elena’s breath hitched. "You don't like what?"
"I don't like another man looking at you like you are beneath him," Julian said roughly. "Tonight, you are the most magnificent woman in that city. Sterling isn't fit to hold your purse."
Elena stared at him, stunned. It was the first time he had paid her a compliment that wasn't for an audience. There were no cameras here. No reporters. Just him and her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Julian looked at her—really looked at her—and the air in the car suddenly felt very thin. The adrenaline of the fight was fading, replaced by something much more dangerous.
He reached out, his hand hovering near her face. For a second, Elena thought he was going to caress her cheek. She found herself leaning in, wanting his touch.
But he pulled back at the last second. He cleared his throat and looked away, breaking the spell.
"We’re almost home," he said, his voice flat and business-like again. "Go straight to bed. Tomorrow, we have a lunch meeting with the Board of Directors. It will be even worse than the party."
Elena sank back into her seat, feeling a strange pang of disappointment.
She looked at the man sitting next to her—the billionaire who had bought her life, saved her brother, and defended her honor.
Don't fall for him, Elena, she told herself firmly. It's just business.
But as the car sped toward the penthouse, she knew it was already too late.
- Writer
