The Heir's obsession Chapter 35: Somewhere Between Fear And Want

Chapter 35

JACE MARINO

The dinner slled like wealth.

Perfu, champagne, fresh-cut roses and the faint sting of bleach from the marble floors. Everything glead too much. The silverware, the glass walls, the practiced smiles.

I’ve stood in darker rooms than this, but nothing ever feels as fake as charity night.

Caras flashed at the entrance. My father shook hands with politicians and businessn who pretended not to know what paid for their donations. Aiko was beside , all elegance and quiet poise, a perfect mask in a room full of them.

"Smile," she whispered as the next photographer called our nas.

I did.

For the cara, for the Marino na.

For survival.

We moved through the motions. Speeches about "community progress," checks exchanged, applause that sounded hollow even when it filled the hall. Every word about "hope" and "rebuilding" felt like a lie my family had told too many tis.

My jaw ached from smiling. My father’s hand rested heavy on my shoulder when it was my turn to talk to the guests. Deals made in low tones. Promises sealed with practiced nods. Charity, the cleanest form of laundering.

By the ti we sat down, I was done pretending.

That’s when it happened.

A shadow moved at the edge of my vision. One of the servers weaving through the tables with a tray of champagne. I didn’t look up until the tray stopped at our table. A glass appeared before , the stem trembling just slightly.

And then I slled it.

Cedarwood. Paint. Soap that wasn’t expensive enough for this room.

My pulse stuttered.

My chest went tight.

It was him.

Julian.

I didn’t even have to see his face. the mask, the posture, the quiet rhythm of his breath. I knew. The kind of knowing that lives in your blood, not your head.

My hand froze halfway to the glass.

He was close enough for to touch. Close enough for to ruin everything.

My father said sothing beside . I nodded, even though I didn’t hear a word. The music swelled. Aiko leaned forward, trying to get my attention, but my focus had already left the table.

Julian moved toward the far side of the room, slipping through the crowd, tray still in hand. Then, quietly, toward the hallway that led to the restrooms.

My throat went dry.

Every instinct told to stay seated, to let him go.

But instincts never stood a chance against him.

I set my glass down, muttered sothing about taking a call, and stood.

The hallway was quieter. muffled laughter from the ballroom, the clink of glasses fading behind . I followed at a distance. I didn’t know what I was going to say, what I was supposed to say.

All I knew was that he was here, and that terrified more than any deal I’d ever made.

When I pushed open the restroom door, he was there. His back to , mask off, breathing hard. The fluorescent light made him look smaller, paler.

He turned before I could speak.

"You fucking coward."

The words hit harder than I expected.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. His voice shook in a way that cut deeper. Not anger, not yet. Hurt.

I shut the door behind and locked it. The sound echoed like a warning.

"Julian," I said quietly.

It sounded like a prayer I had no right to say.

He took a step forward, eyes blazing. "You left . You didn’t even—" His voice broke, sharp with emotion. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch you walk out and then find out you quit? Like you erased everything—"

"Stop." My voice was lower than I ant. "You shouldn’t be here."

He laughed, bitter. "You think I don’t know that? You think I planned on walking into your father’s circus for fun?"

"Then why?"

"Because you disappeared!"

The words cracked open between us. "Because I couldn’t stop wondering if you were alive or dead or just...gone."

Silence stretched. I could hear my heartbeat, the hum of the air vent, and a laugh from the hallway.

Julian’s eyes glistened, but he blinked it back, chin lifting in defiance. "You’re just like him," he whispered. "You say you’re different, but look at you. Suit, mask, pretending you don’t bleed like the rest of us."

I stepped closer, slower than I should’ve. "You don’t know what this is, Julian."

"Then tell ," he said, voice trembling. "Tell what the hell this is. What are you doing here? What did he make you do?"

I exhaled. The truth sat heavy on my tongue, but I couldn’t give it to him. Not here. Not when one wrong word could end with his na on my father’s list.

"I’m doing what I have to," I said finally.

"That’s bullshit and you know it."

He moved closer, and I could see it. The tears he wouldn’t let fall, the exhaustion hiding behind anger. "You think disappearing protects ? It doesn’t. It just kills slower."

I closed my eyes for a mont. When I opened them, he was right there.

"You shouldn’t have co," I said again, softer this ti.

He looked up at . "Then make leave."

The room went still.

I could have said sothing cruel, sothing that would send him running. But I couldn’t lie to him. Not him.

Instead, I said, "You have no idea what I’d do to keep you safe."

Julian’s voice dropped. "Then prove it. Don’t lie to again."

We stood there, inches apart, every breath thick with things we shouldn’t say.

From the hallway, laughter spiked again. The illusion of safety shattered. I glanced at the door, then back at him.

"I have to go," I whispered.

He shook his head, voice cracking. "You always do."

That one hit.

Hard.

I reached out and took his hands in mine . And he let .

He let .

"Do you know my brother Mateo?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I haven’t t him," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Then Marco?"

"Yes."

I nodded, already knowing the answer. "Then I take it he was the mastermind behind this."

I reached up, brushed a strand of hair from his face, and tucked it behind his ear. My hand lingered there, cupping his cheek. He leaned into my touch like he’d been starving for it.

He nodded, eyes closed.

"When you’re done," I said quietly, "he’ll be the one to pick you up."

His voice trembled. "How about you?"

"Just wait for ," I said. "I’ll co looking for you."

"I promise."

"Don’t disappear."

"I won’t."

"You better not," he breathed. "Because if you do, I swear you’ll never see again."

"I won’t," I whispered. "You’re my only purpose. I wouldn’t dream of a world without you."

I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His arms ca around then, holding tight, pulling in until I could feel his heartbeat against mine. He buried his face against my neck, breathing in like he needed proof I was real.

I held him just as tightly. I didn’t want to let go.

But the noise outside was calling. Voices, footsteps, laughter. Reality bleeding back in.

When he finally released , I turned toward the door. My hand found the lock, twisting it open. Before stepping out, I glanced back at him one last ti.

When I stepped back into the noise of the ballroom, I caught my reflection in the glass. Sa suit. Sa mask. Different man.

And behind that door. The only person who ever saw through both.