Beautiful Regret

The Golden handcuffs

Vivienne

The silence in the amphitheater was deafening.

For a fraction of a second, the room spun. My lungs begged for air. But as I stared at Julian Vance at the sharp, predatory tilt of his head and the effortless power he radiated—the panic in my chest hardened into pure, unadulterated fury. He expected me to crumble. He expected me to stutter, apologize, or flee the room.

I refused to give him the satisfaction.

Clutching the edges of the podium, I forced my voice to remain smooth, projecting a calm I didn't feel. "As I was saying..."

For the next twenty minutes, I delivered the pitch of my life. I didn't look at Julian. I focused on the other board members, laying out a flawless, aggressive strategy for the international design division. I spoke with precision, backed by data, channeling every ounce of my anger into absolute competence.

When I finished, a few board members nodded in approval. Julian, however, merely tapped his gold fountain pen against the desk.

"An ambitious strategy, Miss Sterling," Julian said, his deep baritone cutting through the room like a blade. "We will take it under advisement. You are dismissed."

I didn't wait. I packed my tablet, gave a polite nod to the panel, and walked out of the room. The moment the frosted-glass doors closed behind me, I exhaled a breath that burned my throat. My hands were shaking.

I hurried down the corridor toward the elevators, desperate to escape the building before the adrenaline wore off. I needed to think. I needed to figure out how I was going to survive a career where my ultimate judge was a man who viewed me as a liability to be silenced.

"Miss Sterling," a sharp voice called out.

I turned to see Julian’s executive assistant hurrying down the hall.

"Mr. Vance wants you in his private office. Immediately."

A cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck. This is it, I thought. The retaliation.

I knocked on the heavy mahogany door of the CEO's suite.

"Come in," his voice resonated through the wood.

I stepped inside. The office was vast, minimalist, and terrifyingly cold. Julian sat behind a massive glass desk, a sweeping view of the city skyline behind him. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore; his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing the lean muscle and the dark ink of the tattoo I had traced with my fingers just two nights ago.

He didn't look up right away. He let me stand there in the silence, a classic power play designed to make me sweat.

"Mr. Vance," I began, keeping my spine perfectly straight. "If you brought me in here to fire me over a personal matter, I suggest we get it over with."

Julian slowly lifted his gaze. His slate-gray eyes swept over me, deliberate and heavy, before settling on my face. "Do you honestly think I would let a personal indiscretion dictate my corporate assets, Vivienne?"

Hearing my name on his lips sent a strange, treasonous thrill through my veins.

He opened his top drawer and placed something on the glass desk. My breath hitched. It was the pieces of the non-disclosure agreement I had ripped up on Saturday morning. He had kept them.

"You have a habit of destroying things that don't belong to you," Julian murmured, leaning back in his leather chair. "You insulted my character, rejected my financial compensation, and destroyed a legally binding document. In my world, that makes you a rogue variable. Unpredictable. Dangerous."

"I reacted to being treated like a paid escort," I shot back, stepping closer to the desk, my pride flaring. "It isn't professional to bring our private lives into this boardroom, sir. If my work isn't the problem, then my personal life shouldn't be your judge."

Julian’s eyes darkened, a dangerous flare of interest sparking in his gaze. He stood up, towering over the desk, and walked around it until he was standing bare inches away from me. The scent of cedarwood and rain overwhelmed my senses, threatening to break my concentration.

"Your work is exceptional," Julian said softly, his voice dangerously low. "Which is exactly why you aren't being fired."

I blinked, thrown off balance. "What?"

"The board wanted to cut your division entirely. Your ex-fiancé and your father have been working behind the scenes to ensure you were phased out of this acquisition completely." Julian reached into his pocket and slid a new, completely different folder onto the desk. "They want you gone. But I don't let mediocre men dictate whom I hire."

I stared at the folder. "What is this?"

"An exclusive, iron-clad five-year contract as the Global Director of Design. You will answer directly to me, and only me. I am giving you the power to completely dismantle your ex's department."

A wave of shock washed over me. It was everything I had fought for, a perfect weapon to exact revenge on the people who had betrayed me.

"What's the catch, Julian?" I whispered, using his first name without thinking.

Julian leaned in closer, his breath brushing against my ear, sending a shiver straight down my spine. "The catch is the final clause. To secure the funding for your division, the investors require total corporate stability. No scandals. No distractions. And your father is currently threatening to tank the merger by exposing our... little weekend encounter to the press to discredit my judgment."

I froze. "My father knows?"

"He suspects," Julian corrected, his lips brushing against my temple as he whispered the twist. "Which is why, according to Clause 14 of that contract, you aren't just signing on as my Director, Vivienne. To protect the merger, you are going to marry me.”