Chapter 7 - Shadows in the Rearview Mirror
The private dining room at Le Meridian smelled of truffles, aged oak, and expensive champagne.
Julian sat across the table from me, cutting a delicate slice of rack of lamb while watching me with an amused, perceptive gleam in his dark eyes.
“You look distracted,” Julian noted, setting his fork down and reaching across the white linen tablecloth to wrap his warm fingers around my hand. “Did something happen at the office today?”
I took a slow sip of my Pinot Noir, letting the rich, complex flavors settle on my tongue before answering.
“Brooke came to the house,” I said quietly.
Julian’s hand tightened slightly around mine. The amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by an instant, protective sharpness. “Did she threaten you? Do I need to have our security detail expanded?”
“No,” I smiled faintly, squeezing his fingers back. “She didn't threaten me. She begged. Gloria is failing in the prison medical facility. Brooke wanted me to call Naomi and drop the remaining civil judgments so her mother could ‘die with dignity.’”
Julian leaned back in his chair, a cynical, humorless smile touching his lips. “Irony is truly a magnificent playwright. The woman who treated human beings like disposable napkins now wants a comfortable exit.”
“I turned her down, of course,” I said, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glittering skyline of downtown Columbus. “I don't feel guilty, Julian. But sitting there on the porch... looking at how completely destroyed they are... it made me realize how close I came to being the one in the grave instead of them.”
Julian reached across the table again, this time cupping my chin with his warm palm and tilting my face up so I was forced to look directly into his eyes.
“You didn't just survive, Maya,” Julian said, his voice dropping into a low, intense register that sent a delicious shiver straight down my spine. “You burned their entire empire to ash and built a cathedral on top of it. Don't ever waste a single second of your energy feeling sorry for monsters who would have watched you freeze to death without blinking.”
I held his gaze, feeling the profound, unshakable safety of being truly seen, truly valued, and truly loved for the first time in my adult life.
“You’re right,” I whispered. “Let’s talk about something else. Like how you’re planning to explain to your mother that we’re taking a two-week vacation to Italy next month instead of reviewing briefs on Sunday.”
Julian grinned, a boyish, devastatingly charming smile that made him look ten years younger. “Oh, Mom already approved the itinerary. In fact, she’s the one who booked the cliffside villa in Positano. She said if I didn't finally put a ring on your finger before the end of the year, she’d disinherit me and leave her entire estate to your architectural firm.”
My breath caught in my throat, my heart doing a wild, joyful double-flip against my ribs.
“Is that so?” I breathed, a radiant smile breaking across my face.
May you like
Julian reached into the breast pocket of his tailored jacket, pulling out a small, dark velvet box that caught the warm restaurant light. He didn't drop to one knee—that wasn't our style—but as he popped open the lid, revealing a flawless, vintage-cut emerald diamond set in platinum, his eyes were entirely serious.
“Maya Sinclair,” Julian said softly, his voice trembling ever so slightly with emotion. “Will you marry me, and let me spend the rest of my life making sure no one ever treats you with anything less than the absolute worship you deserve?”
