Page 6 of Julian's Curse

After we had talked about where we wanted to live, Julian chose to invest in an apartment building on Cortez Hill. We had both fallen in love with the neighborhood the year before when I’d rented a nearby studio.

Nestled just north of the Gaslamp Quarter, Cortez Hill rose as one of the highest points in downtown San Diego, offering a tranquil, almost secretive charm, yet still within reach of the city’s pulse. My favorite corner of it was the historic Cortez Hill building, which I often likened to a white castle perched on a hill. The red flickering sign atop the Cortez Hill Hotel, with its nostalgic hum, became an iconic presence in the neighborhood—and now, from our three-story haven, I gazed directly at it. Our apartment was spacious, yet intimate, a reflection of our lives together. We had adorned it with treasures discovered at Goodwill, each piece a quiet, cherished reminder of who we were—simple, grounded, and in love. I never saw the need for luxury shops or extravagant spending, and to my relief, Julian understood.

“Anyway, I am calling you to invite you to a dinner this Saturday at our new place with Mark.” Sophie unexpectedly announced that they’d just moved in together.

“What? You moved out of your parents’ place?”

“Yeah, we’re taking that next step.” She sounded so happy that it spread to me. I couldn’t believe how much our life had changed in a year. I’d moved to San Diego, heartbroken, recovering from the nightmare of James. She’d been nursing her own heartbreak because of Mark’s presumed infidelity. Now we’d both found what we presumed to be the loves of our lives.

“Can’t wait to see it,” I stepped on the break to wait for the metal gate to open. One more security guard had been waiting at the maintenance exit to scan my vehicle and ensure I was ready to go. He peeked into the vehicle while I gestured our secret code.

I pondered whether I should tell her about Jess, then decided not to bring it up yet. I saw no use in reminding her of past hurts.

“How is your dad handling the move?” Mr. Dickens was protective of Sophie especially because she had a heart condition. Coincidentally, he was also Julian’s financial advisor, a fact that made us even more interconnected as girlfriends.

“He’s crushed. But Mark’s really made an impression on him.” She boasted.

“I bet.” Mark epitomized the ideal man, seemingly without any flaws. He had a close-knit family, had graduated from Stanford, earned enough to support a large family, and even shared membership at the same golf club as Mr. Dickens. He was also good-looking, but not overly good-looking, so it was easier on Sophie who loved him. She truly couldn’t have found anyone whom her parents would adore more.

In stark contrast to Mark, my alpha male boyfriend was a positively different story. Julian skipped expensive education that he didn’t find necessary for success. He was living proof that degrees weren’t a prerequisite to becoming a successful real estate investor. He’d never had a traditional upbringing, both of his parents being societal outcasts. His childhood had been filled with grief and hardship, with little relief from the abuse ofhis foster parents. Perhaps to make up for the struggle, nature blessed him with wicked good looks and charisma.

“Lucie, I gotta go because I need to run comps for an anxious client. It’s always nice catching up, though, and I hope to see you both at my place!” She sounded apologetic, but I could understand the hectic schedule.

“Text me the details of your new address,” I reminded her as I approached home.

“I will. Most importantly, be safe out there,” she sounded as serious as death and taxes.

“Always,” I tried to sound confident because I didn’t want to worry her. Truth was – it felt like I had little control over any safety at all. And I still needed to build my mental resilience after the prior year which had really shaken up any sense of stability. “Good luck, Sophie,” I ended the call. Determined not to let fear cripple me, I cranked up the music. Music had always been my refuge, a force that sharpened my focus and gave me the strength to face whatever came next.

I arrivedhome to an unforgettable image. Julian seemed deeply engrossed in preparing our elaborate dinner. He’d been trying to make things right between us, so a fresh bouquet of colorful sunflowers awaited me.

“Baby!” he exclaimed as he heard me turn the corner to the second floor of our apartment. “How was the rest of your day at work?” He asked caringly.

I greeted him with a soft affection, my voice warm as I made my way toward the kitchen. His signature scent wrapped around me, filling my nostrils and immediately reviving the dull sensesleft worn out from a long day at work. I couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him through my eyelashes, still in awe of the fact that he was here, with me. It was almost impossible to comprehend how I’d gotten so damn lucky. I would never be able to say it enough.

But despite my amazement, there was a part of me that understood it perfectly. Julian’s mind often felt like an extension of mine, how similar we were in our thinking. Yet, someone like him would normally be so far out of my reach had there not been for his decision to create an anonymous dating profile. He was a billionaire who’d chosen an unconventional path to get to know a woman—through being pen-pals first. His reason? To escape a life filled with scandals and heartbreak. Without the weight of his name or wealth, he could finally find something real in a world that often felt lonely and calculated. In my opinion, he’d executed on it perfectly.

“Eventful, but I couldn’t wait to be home,” I murmured into his ear, then planted a kiss on his scruffy cheek, enough to leave me craving more.

At the same moment, we both blurted outMissed you, then shared a smile over the serendipity of saying the same words. It happened to us way too often, a reassurance that we truly had a powerful mind connection. The magic had always been there, even when we first exchanged hellos online. From that, I realized that love, to some extent, had to be an energetic connection. There was likely much in this world we had yet to grasp about the spiritual realm.

He pulled me closer to his body, his hands now salaciously traveling down my derriere.

“Hmm,” Julian licked his soft perfectly shaped lips. “This dress looks hot on you.”

As much as I appreciate the compliment, I needed food first. “What are you making?” I queried, still looking at him withadoration. “Sorry again I am late for the second time today.” I frowned in the direction of a large clock mounted on the wall. Julian collected clocks, a quirky fact I’d learned about him as soon as we moved in. Each clock in the house seemed like a miniature masterpiece, adorned with intricate designs and elaborate details.

He let go of our passionate embrace to tend to the stove. “The recipe is called Boeuf Bourguignon,” he butchered the French term, then poured me a glass of red from the open bottle on the counter while giving the pot a final stir. “If you want to correct my clumsy pronunciation, I may have to take you on this table,” he flirted heavily, referring to my ability to speak French in a native accent.

My cheeks flushed. Being bilingual in French had never served a better purpose than now. Well, maybe except for my work trip to Paris. I’d enjoyed going back to the city representingApogee.

“Well, I’ll spare you the torture,” I responded with playfulness. “Per the aroma in here, it’s going to be amazing, and it would be a shame if the food ended on the ground,” I teased him with images of us getting naughty.

“Later,” he kissed my forehead, then proceeded to serve us each a bowl.

My stomach growled as I sat down with Julian to enjoy the homemade meal. Although he had only recently taken up cooking, Julian had become a remarkably fast learner. I couldn’t help but feel proud—he was quickly becoming a better chef than I was, despite me only having shown him the basics. Though he was also a workaholic, it wasn’t unusual for him to be done with work sooner than I was these days, and he was most certainly doing this out of care for me. We said a brief gratitude prayer and then eagerly dug into the food. I had introduced us to this ritual not because I felt a higher power was holdingme accountable, but because it was a meaningful reminder to appreciate all that we had.

“Did you have a busy day at the office?” I queried, as my mouth exploded with flavor. “Julian this is delicious. I knew Gram had great things in her cookbook, but you outdid the way I remember it.” It had been a while since Gram made the recipe, not since Grandpa’s passing.

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