Page 7 of Julian's Curse

“Thanks, Lucie,” he looked pleased. “By the way, the Dubai project is almost finished, I couldn’t wait to tell you,” his eyes gleamed as he finally answered my question. For many months now, Julian’s investment company had been working on an expansive resort, complete with branded hotel apartments, luxury penthouses, a premium yacht club, and several villas near the marina.

“You remember Adrianna?” His tone made the question feel heavier than usual.

I cleared my throat, a subconscious reaction that revealed my discomfort. I hadn’t expected him to bring up her, someone who had made me jealous in the past. “I do.” I tried to ignore the fact that the food now tasted suddenly bland. The newspapers had once speculated about a relationship between Julian and her, while he had kept me as his secret. Although we had dismissed those rumors as mere tabloid fodder, they had still caused me considerable pain.

“I’d like you to come with me and meet her.” He proposed. “We’ll be flying out Tuesday if you’re up for a trip.”

With each sip of wine, I felt my tension ease, the warmth spreading through me. “Julian, Amanda wouldn’t want me to leave, not with the release of our new issue just around the corner. She’s also been at the office less and less lately.” Amanda Hart, my boss and a formidable publishing icon, had been prioritizing her personal time more and more. Did this mean shewas confident having me run things? I had a hunch there was more to it, but would need to be patient to find out.

“I don’t want the tabloids to make you nervous,” Julian threaded lightly. “I think if you and Adrianna could become friends, it would put you at ease. She’s been instrumental in promoting the project, and I can’t avoid being seen with her, Lucie.”

The two of them seemed like close friends.

Now, I felt a pang of guilt. I never wanted him to feel he couldn’t interact professionally with women just because it might hurt my feelings. “I trust you, Julian,” I brushed off his concerns. “And honestly, you can’t win with the press. If they take pictures of all of us, they might just write that we’ve had a threesome. Imagine the scandal that would create.”

He chuckled hard. “Would you ever consider a threesome?”

I tossed my napkin his way, feeling a bit silly. Instead of bringing the mood down, it only sparked his playful side. He rose from his seat, and suddenly, food was the furthest thing from our minds. Julian was easy on the eyes, and the proximity to him filled me with lust. I was already a bit tipsy, with an insatiable appetite now focused entirely on my tall, dark, and dangerously charming boyfriend. I had no intention of sharing him with anyone else. I was too loyal and too egoistic, and I expected the same from him.

“I want you right here on this table.” He used an authoritative tone.

I could appreciate it, but only in the context of sex. I got up, pressing my derriere against his groin.

Briskly, he turned me around and lifted me on the tablecloth area that wasn’t covered with plates. His lips sank into my neck until his teeth would most certainly leave a hickey. As if he needed to mark me when the whole world already knew I was his anyway.

“I want all the dishes to break to remind you of the first time you came,” he breathed till it sent a pleasant tingle down my spine.

I recalled the moment clearly. We were aboard his yacht,Trading Yesterday, when a delicate vase—one he’d collected from Italy—suddenly cracked. Our connection had been intense, consuming us entirely, until it all came to a halt in the chaos of a bathroom. There, amidst the wild urgency of our kiss, Julian gave me an experience I’d never known before—one that left me breathless, forever altering the way I saw intimacy. Those days… I was still so innocent, not yet the woman who delighted in buying provocative outfits from sex shops to cater to Julian’s more lustful desires.

“I’ll always remember,” I brushed my fingers through his thick brown hair.

“My goal is to remind you every day,” he gazed into my eyes with a look that made me melt.

I gulped some more wine. The more drunk I’d become, the more I would let myself go. Sex with him always felt like a freefall, the thrill never wore off, and I’d explore all the animalistic desires we had without a sense of decorum.

“God, I love you,” he groaned, admiring every inch of me. His hand slid up my dress, his fingers teasing me in my most delicate areas. I moaned and bent my back, then spread my legs wider so he could feel me deeper. I panted, my mind only focused on the intense pleasure, as he continued to press at my lips in a steady rhythm. We stayed in these motions for a minute, but I still felt unfulfilled and mad with need. Recognizing this, he leaned me fully on the table, while skillfully removing the measly underwear fabric that covered almost nothing anyway.

“Baby girl,” he whispered as his tongue circled my lips, my legs now resting on his shoulders. The mix of my sky-high heels and nudity on a table made me feel like I’d taken things too farin a private dance at a club—except I was in Louboutins, and this was definitely not a transactional relationship. I wanted Julian to enjoy every part of me, to get lost in my curves, to feel like he owned me. Except he didn’t, I’d always be an independent soul, and he’d gravitate toward me because of it. But I wanted him to live out all his fantasies, to never feel dissatisfied.

I reached for the zipper of his dress pants; while he rammed his hard cock into me. All the dishes fell to the floor as he slid me further on the table, my body undulating in rapture, the familiar tickle building up. I didn’t want it to be over yet. “Slowly,” I whispered.

He immediately adjusted his pace. We reached a sweet moment of a hug. He filled me with soft thrusts, while I cherished each and every single one of them. In his arms, I felt an energy that was both exhilarating and comforting, a sense of being fully present and alive in a way I’d never experienced with anyone.

“Sit,” I encouraged him as I loosened up his tie and climbed into his lap. I wanted to ride him until my breasts ached and my body was out of breath. Until he had enough of bouncing my undoubtedly large butt with his hands. Until we’ve both given what we had to each other. And it was never enough, so we’d need to do it over and over again. ‘Til death would us part. The only question really was –given our track record–what kind of death.

I wokeup and immediately glanced at my phone to check the time. 2:23 AM. The blue light felt harsh against my eyes in the surrounding darkness. Noticing that Julian wasn’t beside me, Iwent to the kitchen to fetch some water and simultaneously search for him. It was an easy feat, even in our three-story apartment. As soon as I reached the top floor, I spotted his tall silhouette on the balcony. He seemed deep in thought while he observed the now empty pool that we could never visit because it was a public space. Still, it added a nice ambiance to the place to have a view of something as ordinary as a community facility.

I slid the glass door open, peeking outside. The summer air felt balmy, gently wrapping around me with a warm and soothing embrace. “Can’t sleep?”

He glanced up at me, surprised that was even there. We’d had quite a few drinks so I myself wasn’t sure why I’d gotten up so easily.

“Sleeping has not been the same since Niccolo. I don’t think I’ll find peace until he and Tarnakis are not in this world, Lucie.” He growled.

Jail was good enough for me. “Don’t worry.” I retorted. His gentle soul had to be so afraid to wish for someone’s passing.

I leaned into him, feeling the weight of the past year settle between us. It had taken its toll on both of us, while the shadows of our shared experiences loomed large.

Julian’s business partner, Tarnakis had owned a yacht-building company teetering on the brink of bankruptcy. Julian saw a promising investment, bought the company, and sold it off in pieces, including some shares to his Arab partners. But, Tarnakis’s wife couldn’t cope with the loss of their fortune and took her own life in the final days of the deal. With little left to lose, he’d directed his fury at Julian, vowing revenge. So, for a while, I had been an unwitting target of a contract killer, the thought still sending chills down my spine. I had survived a serious car crash by sheer miracle—probably thanks to the roll bar my ex-boyfriend had installed in my old Miata, my belovedcar that I now had to retire in a parking garage. It felt like the end of an era, a symbol of everything I had endured and lost.

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