Julian’s POV
God, I was on my third espresso already, and the sun was just barely peeking over the city skyline, spilling this warm, golden light all over the glass walls of my office.
The cup sat there empty in my hand, with just this little dark ring at the bottom from the last sip. I kept twisting it around, you know, like if I could push back the exhaustion from last night. It was creeping up on me, but hell, who had time for that?
My computer screen was lit up with all these numbers staring back at me—offshore stuff hidden away in the Caymans, and sneaky transfers bouncing through a bunch of different places. And my secret stash of cash that could probably snap up half the continent if I got bored of being subtle. All these are my work.
My tie? Yeah, I'd ripped it off ages
