Julian’s POV
I don’t chase people. I have teams of professionals to do the chasing while I remain the stationary sun around which the Windsor Empire orbits. Yet, less than twenty-four hours after the "wedding of the year," I was stepping off my private jet in Nice.
The data Marcus provided was enough. Katia hadn't been hiding; she simply wasn't making herself easy to find. I tracked her to a small, discreet restaurant tucked away in a cobblestone alley in Antibes. It was the kind of place that didn't take reservations unless they knew your lineage.
When I saw her, the air in my lungs felt tight. She was alone at a corner table, a glass of red wine in her hand, looking out at the sunset over the water. She looked like a woman who didn't have a care in the world—certainly not a woman whos
