After leaving Roman Lawson’s room, Scarlett Shaw returned to the suite with Julian Ford. Neither spoke a word. Once inside, Scarlett confird the contract was in order, then addressed Julian with distant politeness:
"President Ford, thank you for your hard work today. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave."
She looked up at him, her watery eyes indifferent, that impulsive episode between them earlier in the evening seemingly unable to stir even the slightest ripple in her heart.
Julian felt a restless heat rising in his body. He tossed his discarded coat onto the back of a chair, unbuttoned two buttons at his collar, and said coldly, "Get so water."
Scarlett: "..."
In this ti and place, he was the boss, and she was the subordinate. A few minutes ago, he had personally closed a deal, which in a way secured her performance assessnt as well.
Scarlett silently swallowed the bit of grievance in her heart, walked to the bar, poured a glass of water, and handed it to Julian.
Julian took the glass and downed it in one go.
The empty glass returned to the table with a soft clink. His slender fingers wrapped around the water glass were tinged with an unnatural flush.
Julian lowered his gaze, his eyes sweeping over Scarlett, who simultaneously looked up at him, asking considerately, "President Ford, should I get you another glass?"
Her pale pink lips parted, resembling a tempting peach, making one want to take a bite.
Julian’s restlessness grew; his voice was low and hoarse as he humd his assent.
Scarlett fetched glass after glass.
On the fifth glass, as she handed it over, she paused when she caught sight of the flush at the corners of Julian’s eyes. Her hand holding the water stopped mid-air, and her fingertips brushed against his as he reached for it.
A single spark can set the prairie ablaze.
The glass tipped from her hand, cold water trickling from her fingertips into her palm, then rolling under her sleeve against her skin.
The glass dropped onto the carpet with a muffled thud.
There was a smoldering fire in Julian’s eyes as he locked his scorchingly hot hand around Scarlett’s palm. Sensing sothing amiss, Scarlett tried to pull her hand back, but as soon as she moved her wrist, Julian bowed his head and kissed it.
The man’s usual coolness was replaced by searing heat. Scarlett’s first instinct was to push him away, but her slender waist was trapped, forced back against the edge of the bar.
"There was sothing wrong with the water in Roman Lawson’s room."
Julian’s lips moved upward, landing at the tip of her nose; he bit it gently with a restraint that bordered on nace, his voice icy and low:
"I didn’t go in there today. The one who drank that glass of water was you, Scarlett."
In other words, he was now taking the hit for her. She had a responsibility to stay and help him out.
Scarlett gritted her teeth, unwilling to give in. When Julian’s kisses traveled back to her lips from her nose, she raised her hand to block him, his lips landing in her palm instead.
Suddenly, a moist heat surged and burned against her skin.
Scarlett’s heart thudded heavily, her defenses buckling on the edge of collapse.
This man was nothing but poison. Two hours ago, he’d openly had a falling-out with her, looking at her with cold, rciless eyes, not giving her the slightest leeway.
But now, he could just as easily draw her in with the simplest provocation.
Scarlett thought, it really wasn’t because she was weak-willed.
It was all Julian Ford—seductive without even realizing it.
But no matter how fierce the physiological reactions provoked by hormones, or how overwhelming the dopamine rush from a pounding heart, Scarlett forced herself back to reality, keeping her wits about her. She abruptly dropped her hand, blocking Julian’s lips as they pressed against her slender neck.
"Julian Ford."
She tried to steady her voice as she spoke, suppressing the ripples inside stirred by his teasing touch.
"Don’t forget, this afternoon you explicitly said—there are so lines you can’t just cross. You have your lines, and I have mine. I won’t cross yours, and you shouldn’t cross mine."
Julian lifted his head from the crook of her neck. His normally placid eyes, for once, flickered with a rare turmoil.
Beneath his loosened collar, the pale lines of muscle were faintly flushed with red.
His fingers traced her earlobe, pinching and rolling gently, stroking her with a quiet tenderness.
In monts like this, the man who was usually cold and distant beca even more fatally alluring. Julian looked at her and said, "Scarlett Shaw, you’re lying."
Her chest tightened. She avoided his probing gaze and said, "I don’t believe soone with your self-control would lose it over sothing like this."
This wasn’t just a casual remark.
Scarlett sincerely believed it.
Julian Ford was not soone driven by desire. And by "desire," it was not just the physical kind, but for anyone or anything—he had never shown much passion for anything.
To Julian Ford, nothing seed worthy of his concern.
And of course, that "nothing" included her, Scarlett Shaw.
Even back when they were involved, he would tease and provoke her with great interest. No matter how much possessiveness and aggression he displayed, it was simply part of his nature.
Psychologically, he was always calm and restrained, never losing control for anything or anyone.
If it could be called being involved, perhaps more accurately, Julian Ford simply enjoyed maintaining his composure under any circumstance.
This man, through and through, was ice-cold to the core, entirely devoid of genuine feeling.
He would never lose control because of anyone.
She had long since understood that.
And yet...
Scarlett closed her eyes, forcing herself to restrain the urges surging in both body and heart.
The chaos in Julian’s gaze faded as Scarlett reopened her eyes, her almond-shaped eyes now clear and cold again.
There was now a deeper, more aningful look in his eyes as he gazed at her.
Scarlett was indeed right; there had been sothing in Roman Lawson’s glass of water—it was a fact. Julian had drunk it, and at first, the heat had been so intense he’d wanted to devour her on the spot.
But Julian Ford was, after all, Julian Ford.
He was not soone easily swayed by desire. Even if he was truly going to be with Scarlett, it would never be in circumstances like this.
Of course, the real reason was not out of consideration for Scarlett’s feelings. It was simply his own will—he would not allow himself to be controlled by such feeble, external factors.
Yet Scarlett’s reaction was clearly beyond his expectations.
If he analyzed her based on her past behavioral patterns, she would reject him without hesitation.
As expected, Scarlett did exactly that.
But what Julian didn’t expect was the fleeting glimpse of longing, vulnerability, and struggling resistance he caught in her eyes.
That expression, indeed, managed to spark a brief interest in him.
Julian had no interest in anyone or anything, but that didn’t an he was blind to the emotions and intentions of those around him.
Even without seeing Aaron Carson’s WhatsApp ssages with Scarlett, he could have sensed it—a woman who knows the man before her is the abyss, yet still allows him to co closer amid struggle and pain, must have complicated feelings within her.
Scarlett was no exception in front of him.
Indeed, just as Josiah Sutton had said, to Julian Ford, Scarlett was special.
Otherwise, years ago, every ti Ryan Ford was laughing and harmonizing with her, he wouldn’t have lurked alone in the shadows, hidden away, coldly watching them from afar, resentfully unable to step into the light.
Reviews
All reviews (0)