Julian’s POV
My penthouse was dead quiet, the kind of silence that closes in on you. I was sprawled on the leather sofa, my shirt open at the collar, sleeves shoved up my forearms, my tie dangling loose like I didn’t have the energy to finish pulling it off. My phone felt heavy in my hand, the screen gone dark, but those pictures were still burning behind my eyelids—sharp, and undeniable, ready to ruin everything if I let them loose.
City lights spilled in through the huge windows, cold and silver, cutting hard lines across the marble floor. I caught my reflection in the black glass: My eyes were bloodshot red, jaw tight, the anger from earlier with Bella still simmering low in my gut.
Then the front door slammed open so hard the walls seemed to shake.
“Do you have a death wish?”
Ava’
