Page 153 of The Rules
Ben stepped inside, every muscle coiled with purpose.
He wasn’t here to waste time. He wasn’t here to spar or posture. He came for answers—results.
And Julian? Already waiting.
He sprawled in a back corner booth like he belonged to the room and the shadows in equal measure. One hand cradled a glass of something dark. Another identical glass sat untouched across from him. Ben’s.
Julian didn’t stand. Didn’t greet. Just offered a slow smile.
“You really showed up,” he said. “I was starting to think I imagined the call.”
His teeth pressed together, but his expression didn’t flicker.
He slid into the booth without comment. No glance at the drink. Every movement crisp, controlled, deliberate.
The suit was perfect. The mask even more so.
“I see you haven’t changed,” he said, voice flat.
Ben watched his brother, cataloging the changes time had carved into him. Julian was still lean, still carried himself with that same unsettling grace, but there was something harder in his eyes now. Something colder. Sharpened by distance.
It had been nearly six months since they’d seen each other in person. The occasional phone call kept the line from going dead completely, but even those were rare.
Julian exhaled a low chuckle—amused, indulgent.
He swirled his drink lazily, like he had all the time in the world.
"Oh, I’ve changed plenty. But you wouldn’t know, would you?" he said, mock-casual, sharp underneath.
He leaned back, stretching his arms across the booth like a bored god.
"Too busy playing righteous crusader—fighting for truth and justice—while, what was it again? Our parents’ marriage quietly imploded behind you?"
A beat. A sip.
"But I’m sure you noticed. If you ever picked up the phone," Julian added, deadpan.
He didn’t touch the drink. Didn’t shift in his seat. But something in the air shifted with him. A drop in temperature.
A warning.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snapped.
No courtroom cool. No polished diplomacy. Just raw irritation, laced with something darker—something that sounded like fear.
Julian’s smile twitched, like he hadn’t expected that level of bite so fast. He held Ben’s stare for a beat longer than necessary.
Then he shrugged and murmured, “Relax. I’m fucking with you.”
Ben leaned in, voice low, tense.
“Jesus, Julian. What the hell was that supposed to mean?”
He just smiled. “Chill, it was a joke.”
Ben didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But something in his gaze went colder. Harder.
“That’s not funny,” he said, voice low and edged. “Don’t throw shit like that if it’s not true.”
