Page 74 of Kisses and Paperclips

His stubble caught the light as he smirked. “I can already tell how messy we’d be.”

“Messy?”

“You’re the type to storm into someone’s life and turn it upside down. Walking chaos.”

“Projecting much?” He leaned in. “You’re the one playing hard to get.”

“How, when you’ve already had me?” I hissed. “I don’t mix work and pleasure.”

“That’s the thing.” His knuckle brushed my wrist. “We already crossed that line. Might as well enjoy the blur.”

One sharp retort died on my lips as footsteps approached. Evelyn swept in, oblivious to the tension. “There you are. Sorry for the wait.”

Julien stood smoothly. “Serena kept me thoroughly occupied.” The wink he gave me in front of his mother was downright treasonous.

As they exited, I watched through the glass walls—how his muscular frame relaxed against the hallway, one foot propped casually against the baseboard like he owned the place.

???

I expected a hotel.

But we pulled up to an old building nestled just past the edges of Midtown. Weathered brick, wrought-iron details, the place with a soul. It didn’t announce itself. Timeless in a way most things don’t dare to be anymore. Julien didn’t say a word.

I stepped out, rounded the car, and opened my door, as if it were second nature. Some men have to be taught how to be gentle with a woman. He never needed the lesson.

Inside, the building was warm and quiet. Hardwood floors stretched down a narrow hallway, worn smooth with time. The air smelled faintly of cedar, and lemon clean scent, and his masculine scent. Everything about it felt intentional, curated. Like someone had carved out a sanctuary from the noise.

His hand brushed the small of my back as he guided me up the stairs. My heels clicked against the steps, echoing in a way that made me feel suddenly self-conscious. Exposed, somehow.

As if, even the space could hear my heart racing.

We reached the second floor, where tall windows lined the hallway, the city lit up beyond them like a soft reflection of the night. For a moment, I focused on the hum of the world outside. It was easier than thinking about what was happening between us.

He stopped in front of a pair of matte black double doors, turned the handle, and let me in first.

I stepped inside and exhaled.

The room caught me off guard.

It was more like its own apartment than a bedroom. It was so big.

It felt like a revelation, the best escape from the world while having a secret window to it.

Open and warm.

A dark leather sectional sat angled toward a low-burning fireplace, one he turned on the moment we walked in. The flame caught quietly, flickering, and a steady warmth wrapped around the room.

I’d expected a wood-burning setup, like the one I glimpsed downstairs. But a live fire this high up? Probably not the safest move. Still, something about the glow made everything feel softer. Like the space had been waiting to be used for more than just passing time.

My eyes traveled across the room, catching pieces of him I hadn’t seen before. The far wall was lined with books, records with some worn and some rare. Framed art leaned casually against the shelves, not hung with but placed carefully. Not for display, but comfort.

In the corner, a sleek bar caught the light. Two heavy tumblers were already out, filled with hand-cut ice that hadn’t started melting yet. Like they’d been prepared right before we got here.

By a housekeeper.

By him.

Either way, it felt… intentional, like he wasn’t hoping for this moment, as if he was expecting it.

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