Page 56 of Julian's Curse

How is your sobriety going? Are you managing now that there are more temptations around? I asked, now genuinely wondering. We’d only touched on the subject of rehab briefly the night before, because so much else was going wrong, but it was a conversation that deserved more attention.

31 days clean now, he responded immediately.I love you, Lucie, and I will not let you down. And our baby.

Should you go back to rehab, to finish the program?Concern crept into our conversation. It didn’t seem like long enough to me. He’d had a deeply rooted problem before he went, and with everything happening now, he hadn’t been able to devote the time he needed to truly heal.

My absence worried the investors, so I plan to stay, he explained.And besides, I can’t leave you now. Not with what’s going on with the Dickens family. They need me.

I understood that. I hoped he’d be strong enough to stay away from trouble.

About what James mentioned yesterday… I messaged next. There was no reason to walk around the subject anymore. Knowing the truth, no matter how hard it was, would allow me to make the best choices for my future.

Lucie, I don’t know if this is a text message conversation. Let’s talk about it in person. He suggested.

Did you sleep with her? I know we weren’t together, but it still feels important to know.

Julian was calling me now, and I quickly concluded that, because of my bitterness, this wasn’t the right time to talk to him. And certainly not in front of an audience at my office. Even stepping into a room wasn’t a doable plan, because I simply couldn’t afford another PR mistake.

I need to talk to you about this in person, he followed up via text, possibly understanding that I didn’t want to have a call.

This could only mean one thing — yes, he’d slept with her. And while I knew that men could separate love and sex much easier, it still made me think that our bond wasn’t as tight as I’d initially thought. He’d been able to enter another woman’s body, while I’d almost gone insane without him. I knew better than to Google her name, knowing it would only send me down a spiral.

I was already in a dump because of his hidden addiction. There was the Julian I had known before his confession, and the Julian I knew now. While it didn’t change the fact that I still loved him, I couldn’t help but wonder if James had been right about one thing—our relationship was becoming dangerously toxic. I skimmed through the pictures of us on my desk, memories of past happiness, of the moments I had believed Julian was my purest salvation. Now, there was no such thing.

Iarrived home late, as usual, my workaholism being my constant refuge. To my surprise, Julian hadn’t yet returned from the office, so I went ahead with my usual evening routine without him. I ate a cup of hot canned chicken soup, satisfying a craving, then took a hot shower, read a few pages ofThe Lady of Camelliasthat Julian had gifted me, and finally went to bed.

I fell into a deep sleep almost immediately, my body surrendering to the exhaustion and desperate need for rest. I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep when I finally felt Julian’s touch on me.

He’d spooned me into a gentle hug, trying not to wake me, but I’d always been a light sleeper. Almost instantly, I spun around, our foreheads brushing as I breathed in the elegant blend of his cologne and the warm scent of his skin, a heady mixthat felt like my own personal addiction. Heaven—he was my heaven, no matter how hard it could get between us.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up baby,” he whispered against my mouth. “How are you feeling?”

The Alexa on the nightstand chimed, filling the room with ocean waves. Its display casted a faint glow—it was almost 4 AM, an hour that felt oddly out of place for his return. “I’m fine,” I mumbled, my voice hushed and dry. I needed water, so I reached for my cold tea on my nightstand and chugged the rest of it.

“Were you late at the office?” It was more of a conversation starter because I already knew the answer anyway. It wasn’t unusual for him to pull an all-nighter, especially if he had several meetings scheduled in the Middle East. I also knew he was probably ridden with guilt for taking a month off. When it came to his business, Julian needed to be fully in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, Lucie, we’ve been reviewing Sophie’s file with Oliver. I can’t stand seeing Jack this heartbroken, and Sophie means a great deal to all of us.”

It was sweet of him to say this because he really didn’t know her that much. “She does,” I muttered, my voice strained with pain. I was almost ready to make coffee and get up, now. Maybe there was more I could do during this search, too.

But I decided not to let go of his embrace. We hardly had moments like this anymore. Julian was still in his suit, the fabric rumpled from the long hours, and he hadn’t even bothered to change. The sharp lines of his blazer were softened by the wear of the night, his tie slightly askew as if he’d been too tired or distracted to care. His gaze shifted to me as soon as he saw the heat in my cheeks, then lingered on my short white robe, and I knew exactly what that look meant.

“Kiss me,” the words were half plea-half demand. His hand slid up my thigh, my quiver now giving away my susceptibility.But sex couldn’t fix everything, especially not with the dragon in my mind.

I met his fiery gaze, reluctant to comply just yet. “Julian, I want to talk about Jazmin.” There was no point in avoiding the issue and letting my anxiety simmer.

Tilting his head, he brushed his lips over mine.

I mentally prepared myself for the bad news.

“I didn’t sleep with her, Lucie.” He flashed me a subtle yet guilty smile.

“Why wait all this time to tell me that?” I pressed. He could have just said this in a message and spared me the overthinking.

“You need to look me in the eyes when I say this.” He inched closer, and a wave of butterflies fluttered in my stomach. He then gently pulled me toward him, positioning me to straddle his hips. I felt heat and moisture between my thighs, and I was no longer sure if I cared about a conversation in the first place.

“Lucie Benton,” he murmured, brushing his finger across my cheek, and my pulse skipped. Even after all this time, it still felt like a wild dream. No one had ever made me feel this way—so exposed, so raw. I couldn’t quite pinpoint whether it was his striking looks or his undeniable power, though it was likely a mix of both—the very essence of who he was. It wasn’t just his success that set him apart; it was the sheer force of his presence, the way he moved through the world as though it bent to his will. There was something undeniably magnetic about a man who had achieved so much on his own. And he had a kindness that the tabloids would never mention, though those close to him knew it well.

“Coming home to you is all I will ever want,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine with a quiet intensity that wouldn’t let me look away. “You need to stop looking for excuses why we aren’t going to work.”

---