The Forbidden Heir

The Uninvited Meeting

The note trembled in my hand as if the ink itself had weight.

"Trust no one. J."

I stared at it until the letters blurred together. My heart thudded in my ears, my throat closed with something I wouldn't dare call fear, anger, maybe both.

Julian? Or the man on the terrace?

The solitary singular letter was enough to drive me mad. Both names fit. Both men carried secrets like darkness.

I folded the note carefully, though I would have loved to tear it into pieces. Instead, I shoved it into my nightstand drawer and slammed the door shut. Out of sight. Out of mind. That's what I kept telling myself.

Sleep eluded me. Every creak of the building, every thud of the street outside, jolted me awake. By morning, my eyes were gritty, my body was leaden, but my mind refused to sleep.

When my phone buzzed, I nearly jumped off the couch.

Marcy.

"Emergency. Report to the office. ASAP."

No explanation, no smileys. Only a sense of urgency.

I put on jeans and a blazer and barely registered the elevator ride down. The sidewalks were rich with the smell of morning coffee and rain, the city slowly coming to life. I gripped the steering wheel the whole way downtown, trying to rid myself of the paranoia. Maybe Marcy just needed to debrief from the gala. Maybe the client was griping. Normal things. Safe things.

But as soon as I entered the office, I knew I was mistaken.

He was there.

Julian Blackwood.

Slouching against the edge of Marcy's desk, his expression like billionaires stopped by event planning firms regularly. His suit was immaculate, no wrinkle anywhere, his tie loose just so, as if to make it seem intentional. The sun coming in through the blinds cut sharp lines across his face, glinting off the cool intensity in his eyes.

"Lexi."

He said my name as if it were his.

I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart pounding in my chest.

Marcy looked white, twisting her hands, saying something under her breath about "I'll give you two a minute" before rushing into the back room.

The office was silent. Just me. Him. And suddenly the walls were too close.

I forced my voice to work. "How did you, why are you here?"

He smiled wryly. "You didn't think I'd let last night end without answers, did you?"

My hands fisted at my sides. "You ambushed me to a gala. That wasn't sufficient?"

His eyes tightened. "Ambushed? No, Lexi. That was an introduction. This," he spread his hands a little, slow and deliberate,"this is a discussion."

I laughed, sour. "You barged into my life like some plot from a thriller and now you're going to want me to sit down and have a chat over coffee?"

"Thriller?" He nodded his head, looking at me. "You have no conception of just how near the truth that's coming."

My skin crawled.

"Cut the crap," I snarled. "What do you want?"

He rose from behind the desk, smooth and calculated, like a predator moving without ever needing to rush. He stopped a few feet away, close enough that the air shifted with him.

"I want to protect what your father left behind," he whispered.

The air was trapped in my lungs. My father once again. Always him. Always secrets wrapped around the man I'd laid to rest years before.

"You don't know anything about my father."

"I know more than you think," Julian informed me, his voice so low, so calculated. "And I know he didn't die like you were led to believe."

The world whirled. I leaned on the side of a chair, knuckles taut white. "Stop. Don't you dare."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Lexi." His voice softened, but his eyes never wavered. "I'm here because you need the truth. And truth has enemies. Enemies who already know your name."

I spoke in a shattered voice against my will. "Then why leave a note in my apartment? Why follow me like, like some kind of criminal?"

For the first time, his face hesitated. "A note?"

I stiffened.

"You think that was you?" His voice grated, deepening, darkening.

My arms prickled with every single hair on end. "Wasn't it?"

He fell into silence, long and tight and unbearable. Then he said, "No. But it seems we're not the only ones who know who you are."

The office door groaned behind me. Marcy's uncertain voice: "Lexi? Someone else here to see you."

I turned.

And my stomach dropped.

The terrace man stood in the doorway. Unruffled. Rock solid. His eyes narrowed at Julian with a combination of anger and warning.

"Uninvited encounters," the stranger said softly. "My personal favorite."

The atmosphere was charged, the air thick as cigarette smoke between the two men. Neither man stirred, though the silence between them was akin to the seconds before an explosion. I was trapped in between, my breathing erratic, my thoughts wracked with questions without answers.

Julian eventually took a step back, his eyes remaining locked on the stranger. "This isn't the place."

The stranger smiled to himself weakly. "No. But soon you and I will meet again." His eyes flashed to me, fast and knowing. "You too."

I would have demanded an explanation of what that was meant to be before he left the office.

Julian lingered a fraction of a second longer before taking off after him, the door slamming shut behind him.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Marcy stuck her head in, her face white. "Lexi…what the heck just happened?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't. Glass body waiting to break. I growled something about needing oxygen and grabbed my bag, pushing Marcy's screams away.

I should have faced the other way. I should have burrowed beneath the blankets, locked the doors, and destroyed both men from my thoughts. But the Blackwood Gala was tonight, Victoria Blackwood's annual showcase of strength and glitter. And I'd sworn I'd attend.

Half of me wanted to turn around, but half of me reminded me that if answers were to be found, they'd be there. Among the people who had known my dad. Among the people Julian had warned me about.

I couldn't resist.

So I went.

The ballroom glimmered as though it was out of a bad fever dream. Chandeliers poured gold light onto gowns that sparkled like water. Waiters threaded through the crowd with champagne, their trays grasped with mechanical caution. Cameras flashed by the door where society's beauties posed and cooed, willing the attention.

I had never felt so alone.

Claire spotted me immediately, moving towards me with a smile and a glass of bubbles. "Finally! You do look nice, don't worry, it's just money, perfume, and people pretending."

"Reassuring," I muttered, taking a sip of champagne.

I didn't have a chance to ask her if she'd noticed Julian, or worse, the stranger, before she grabbed my hand. "Dance with me, you'll be less self-conscious."

I barely had time to resent it before she was hauling me onto the floor. The orchestra swelled, couples dancing in formal curves. Claire spun at me once and abandoned me in mid-beat with a grin. "I see someone's looking at you. Don't say I never played Cupid."

I spun around and nearly collided with him.

Julian.

He bowed slightly, holding out his hand. "Dance?"

Each rational half of me bellowed to refuse. But the fierceness of his gaze, the way that the music bent toward him, the eyes upon us, it was impossible to look away.

So I placed my hand within his.

The universe contracted to the arc of his hand around my waist, the soft command in every step, the scent of cedar and something else rough that stayed in his coat. I hated how my body remembered him, how I stepped in and out of time so easily, like we'd done it a thousand times.

"You shouldn't be here," he breathed, close enough that his hot breath tickled my ear.

"Then why are you inviting me?" I snapped back.

"I didn't." His voice was a knife, soft but cutting.

I didn't have time to ask him what he was saying before the dance ended. People were clapping all around us. Julian released me slowly, grudgingly, but his eyes remained on mine.

I broke away the first moment I could, pushing through the crowds, my chest tightening. I needed air. Space. Room.

The corridor outside the ballroom was quiet, dark, and lined with portraits of past Blackwoods. I leaned against the wall, shuddering breaths.

"You don't trust him."

I spun around.

The stranger stepped forward out of the shadows, his expression unreadable, his suit blending with the darkness.

I didn't have time to run before he thrust an envelope at me. Sealed. Thick.

"Read this. Out loud. And you'll know everything." His voice was low, certain.

I stood there, staring at the envelope.

And then another voice cut through the silence.

Julian.

"God damn it, what the hell are you doing?"

I was frozen between them. The burning envelope clutched in my hand.

I had no idea what was inside.

Or whether opening it would save me.

Or kill me.