Duty Meets Desire

Chapter Three

Julian

I don’t waste time on things that don’t matter.

In business, in life—efficiency is everything. And women?

I stopped investing in them a long time ago.

One betrayal is enough to teach you that your heart isn’t a renewable resource. Mine was spent years ago on someone I thought I’d marry. Claire left with someone else, and she took the last piece of me that believed in the idea of forever. Since then, I’ve kept my distance. No commitments. No risks.

And yet…

Here I am, sitting in the back of my car after lunch with Zoey Bennet, replaying every damn moment.

She talked with confidence.Chin high, gaze sharp, posture straight enough to make you think she could walk through a storm without flinching. She didn’t try to impress me. She looked like she was daring me to impress her.

That… I liked.

I notice things most people miss—it’s a habit that’s made me a lot of money and kept me alive in this industry. In the short time I sat across from her, I caught five things I know she didn’t mean to give away:

She taps her thumbs against her wine glass when she’s thinking.She never looks away first.

There’s a faint scar along her jawline.Barely visible, but it’s there.

She’s sharp.Defensive.And Sharper usually means harder to win over. I don’t mind.

This arrangement isn’t about attraction, I had something to loose, a merger that ties our families together.

But now?

I’m curious.

And curiosity is dangerous for me.

I haven’t let anyone close since Claire. I swore never again, and I meant it.

By early evening, I’d put in five hours at the office, reviewed a construction proposal for a new hotel branch, and still couldn’t get her out of my head. Which is exactly why, when Miles texted me to meet him at our usual bar, I went.

It was one of those low-lit, old-money places in the heart of the city—leather booths, dark wood, bartenders who knew your drink before you asked. Miles was already there, two whiskeys in and smirking like he’d been waiting for me all day.

“You’re late,” he said as I slid into the booth.

“I was working.”

“You never get tired do you”, he shot back without hesitation.

I didn’t answer, just picked up my glass when the bartender set it down.

“Come on, Julian, What’s going on man”. Miles said

“You’ve been ice-cold since Claire. That’s not you.”

I swirled the whiskey, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “It’s not about her.”

Ryan arched a brow. “Sure it’s not.”

“It’s about my work,” I said flatly. “My parents decided that if I don’t marry their friend’s daughter Zoey .

And before you say anything I can’t refuse because if I do,they’re giving my entire inheritance to charity. Everything. The shares in Iron crest Global, the properties, the trust. All of it.”

Miles blinked. “That’s insane.”

“They think I need ‘roots.’ That without someone beside me, I’ll destroy myself in business.” I gave a humorless laugh. “I built the company to what it is now.I’m not letting it go because they want to play matchmaker.”

“So you’re marrying her for the company,” he said slowly.

“That’s the only reason I agreed to this in the first place,” I lied, taking a slow sip. The truth was, the company was my priority. But Zoey West. she was quickly becoming a distraction I didn’t see coming.

Ryan grinned. “And here I was thinking you might actually be interested in a woman again.”

I leaned back, meeting his gaze over the rim of my glass. “Interest fades. Control doesn’t. And I plan on keeping both.”

Later, back in my penthouse, I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city stretched out in a glittering sprawl below me. I told myself this was just a deal. Just business.

But I couldn’t shake the image of her eyes narrowing ever so slightly when I pushed her buttons, or the faint hitch in her breath before she gave me some sharp reply.

I liked the way she resisted me. I liked the challenge. And maybe I liked knowing I could get under her skin… and that she knew it, even if she’d never admit it out loud.

The game had started.

And I was already enjoying it.

Zoey

The morning dragged like someone had thrown an anchor on my desk.

Even with back-to-back meetings, my mind kept slipping away from spreadsheets and fabric samples, drifting back to my mother’s dining room… and him. Julian West.

I sat at the head of the long glass table in the conference room, nodding at our head of production while he ran through quarterly numbers for Vale Couture’s factory staff. The room smelled faintly of coffee and fresh paper, but none of it could shake the restless buzzing under my skin.

Jane was beside me, immaculate as always, jotting notes in her sleek black planner. Every so often, I caught her glancing at me. I was sure she could see my brain wasn’t here,it was replaying a pair of sharp, dark eyes and a smirk that said he knew exactly how to get under my skin.

By the time the meeting ended, Jane pushed back from the table, gave the staff her signature reassuring smile, and waited until the door shut before turning to me.

“You’re somewhere else. Want to tell me where?”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically, flipping through a pile of fabric swatches. My fingers were turning the silk samples over and over, but I wasn’t actually looking at them.

She snorted. “Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of England. Come on—let’s get out of here before your head explodes. Food. Coffee. Now.”

I didn’t protest when she grabbed her coat and all but herded me out of the office.

Ten minutes later, we were at the breakfast bar two blocks down. The air smelled of butter and espresso, the kind of warm, cozy scent that made you want to sink into the corner booth and never leave. I wrapped my hands around my latte, letting the heat seep into my fingers.

Jane tore into a croissant, watching me with narrowed eyes. “Alright. Spill.”

I hesitated, then the words started coming. I told her about lunch at my mother’s. About my father,how he’d died two weeks ago without ever trying to face me. How the letter came instead, filled with apologies and this… absurd marriage arrangement. And Julian West, the man who was now tied to my future whether I wanted him there or not.

Jane froze mid-bite. “Wow. That’s… a lot.”

I gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Welcome to my life.”

She leaned back, one eyebrow arched. “I’m not saying you should run off and marry Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Probably-Trouble. But… think about it. If this is what your dad left you, maybe it’s not all bad. Maybe it could work in your favor.”

And of the little I’ve heard about him, he’s a nice person.never heard anything bad about him from

all the crowd I’ve been around.

I stared at her, the corner of my napkin twisting between my fingers. I hated that she had a point.

By four, my brain was fried. Max had been texting me all day yesterday,wanting me to come by. I hadn’t seen him since after our dinner.and maybe—just maybe—a night with him would make all this noise in my head quiet down.

The sky was already sliding toward gold as I pulled up outside his building. I didn’t bother to text—I had my own key.

The lock clicked easily, and I stepped inside. His place smelled faintly of his cologne, warm and woody, mixed with something sweeter… perfume. Not mine.

“Max?” I called, my heels clicking softly against the hardwood. No answer.

That’s when I heard it.

Laughter—light, breathless, feminine. Followed by his voice, low and intimate, in a tone I hadn’t heard from him in months.

My feet moved without me thinking, carrying me down the hall. The bedroom door was ajar, just enough for me to see.

Max.

And a woman I’d never seen before.

Her bare shoulder arched toward him, his hands skimming her skin like he knew every inch. He was smiling—that smile he used to give me—before pressing his mouth to hers.

Something in my chest went cold and hollow all at once. My breath caught so sharply it almost hurt.

For a long moment, I stood there frozen, watching the scene like it was happening on a screen, not in real life. My brain scrambled for a reaction—anger, heartbreak, something—but all I felt was a strange, heavy stillness.

I turned quietly, walking out the way I’d come. My pulse was pounding in my ears, my fingers clenched around my bag until my knuckles ached. The city outside blurred as I walked, headlights and neon bleeding together.

And for the first time since my mother told me about the marriage, I didn’t think about refusing it.

By the time I made it back to our apartment, my heels felt like lead. I don’t even remember the drive—just the steady hum of the engine and my own thoughts, looping over the image of Max in his bed with someone else.

The lights were on when I stepped inside. Jane was curled up on the couch in leggings and a sweatshirt, her laptop balanced on her knees. She looked up, instantly alert.

“Hey… you’re home early.” Her eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

I shut the door, leaning against it for a second before I found my voice. “Max happened.”

Her brows knit together. “Meaning…?”

I dropped my bag onto the side table, my laugh sharp and humorless. “Meaning I walked in on him with another woman. In his bed. In his sheets, Jane.”

Jane’s laptop snapped shut as she sat forward. “That piece of—”

“Don’t.” My voice cracked, surprising me. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

She studied me for a beat, then crossed the room, pulling me into a hug. Normally, I’d resist—comfort wasn’t my thing—but right now, my body sagged into hers. The scent of her shampoo was familiar, grounding.

After a moment, she pulled back, hands gripping my shoulders. “Zoey, listen to me. That man has been coasting for years. He never showed up for you the way you showed up for him. And now, you have an out.”

I frowned. “An out?”

She nodded slowly, her expression hardening with a mix of anger and something like strategy. “You’ve been hesitating about this whole marriage arrangement. I get it, the whole situation surrounding Julian is a lot.And I knew max was one of the reasons you were hesitating.But Max just made your decision for you.”

I sank onto the couch, my head in my hands. “You make it sound so… transactional.”

Jane gave me a wry smile. “You run two empires, Zoey. You know better than anyone—sometimes the personal is business. And sometimes business saves you from personal disasters.”

Her words lingered long after she disappeared into the kitchen to make tea. And as much as I hated to admit it, she was right. Max had burned whatever bridge I’d been standing on. The only thing left was the road my father had paved before he died.

A road that led straight to Julian West.