BURNING BRIDGES

CHAPTER 2: The Negotiation

The restaurant was glass and steel, minimalist elegance that screamed Julian's new money. Elena chose a red dress—cruel, perhaps, because he'd always loved her in red—and arrived precisely at 8:15, because punctuality suggested eagerness.

He was waiting at a corner table, wine already breathing. When he stood to greet her, his gaze traveled slowly from her heels to her eyes, leaving heat everywhere it touched.

"You're late."

"You're presumptuous." She sat, accepting the wine he poured. Cabernet. Her favorite. He remembered. "Let's skip the small talk. What's your price for the restoration contract?"

Julian settled back, studying her with the intensity that had always made her feel exposed. "Three years ago, you left while I was sleeping. No note. No call. Just gone. I want to know why."

"That wasn't part of the deal."

"There is no deal without answers." He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I looked for you, Elena. For six months, I looked. Your sister wouldn't talk. Your father threatened to call the police if I came near his office. And then I heard you'd moved to Chicago, changed your number, started over like I was nothing but a mistake."

The pain in his voice cut deeper than she expected. "You weren't a mistake."

"Then what?"

She looked away, toward the city lights reflecting in rain-slicked streets. "I found out who you really were. The real estate schemes, the partners with criminal records, the way you were using my father's connections to—"

"To what?" He grabbed her hand, forcing her attention back. "Build something? Escape the life I was born into? Yes, I cut corners. Yes, I made deals with people your father considered 'beneath him.' But I never used you, Elena. Never."

"You lied about everything."

"I omitted." His thumb traced circles on her palm, sending unwanted shivers up her arm. "There's a difference. And you didn't even give me a chance to explain. You ran."

Because staying would have meant watching him destroy himself, and she hadn't been strong enough to survive that. "The contract, Julian. Please."

He released her hand slowly, reluctantly. "Fine. You want the Henderson building? Work with me. Personally. No delegating to your team. I want you on site, every day, reporting directly to me."

"That's—"

"Non-negotiable." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You want to save your father's legacy? Spend the next six months in my world. See if you can handle the man I actually am, not the fantasy you created."

It was a trap. She knew it was a trap. But the alternative was bankruptcy, her father's shame, her sister's college fund evaporating.

"Fine," she said, raising her glass. "But Julian? I'm not the same girl you remember either. Don't expect me to break so easily this time."

His laugh was genuine this time, rich and warm. "Oh, Elena. That's exactly what I'm counting on."