Page 73 of Meet Me In The Dark
He slides his hands into his pockets as he studies the room. “Why exactly are you hiding in the shadows?”
I glance to the side, raising a brow. “Why areyouhiding in the shadows?”
“Because you’re here.”
“Your stalking is getting concerning, Julian.”
He ignores that, but I catch the faint quirk of amusement at the corner of his mouth.
God, he’s beautiful.
It’s infuriating how easily he wears it.
He nods toward the crowd. “Why aren’t you out there enjoying the spotlight?”
I exhale and decide to drop the charade for a brief, vulnerable second. “Because I hate this part,” I admit. “The smiles, the small talk, the pretentiousness of it all. The… the—”
“The faking it?”
“Exactly.”
A rare, genuine smile passes between us. A moment later, Julian shifts, breaking the spell as he steps away, only to lift his arm in offering.
“Come on. Walk with me. If I can protect you from murderers, I can protect you from them.”
Despite my better judgment, I slip my arm through his.
He steers us effortlessly along the edges of the room, slipping between shadows as if he’s been doing it all his life.
He’s quiet tonight. Too quiet. His eyes seem lost somewhere I doubt anyone could reach.
“So,” I start because I somehow miss our back and forth. “What does Julian Blackwood do when he’s not faking it at these events or running an empire?”
“Are you... making small-talk, Celeste?”
Heat rushes to my neck as I roll my eyes. “Oh, come on. You usually can’t shut up in the mornings. Is it past your bedtime or something?”
He chuckles under his breath. “I have a foundation.”
“I know all about your foundation, Julian,” I say quietly. “It’s incredible.”
It is. I read about how he established the foundation to support families in inner cities—community centers,shelters, gyms, and safe places for kids. Most men in this room would shout it from the rooftops. Not Julian. But I’ve come to realize that Julian isn’t like most men.
“What do you do foryourself?” I correct.
“I box.”
“Like in a boxing ring?”
He laughs again. “Yes.”
I nod. “Fitting.”
“And Celeste? What does she do?”
The last time I did something for myself, I went to a sex club, and we both know how that turned out.
“I used to paint.”
