Chapter 12 - The Confession
The FBI locked down the hotel, but Julian’s lawyers ensured he and Clara were escorted back up to the secure penthouse.
Once the elevator doors closed, the adrenaline finally left Clara’s body. Her knees buckled. Julian caught her instantly, scooping her up into his massive arms as easily as if she weighed nothing.
He carried her to the plush velvet sofa, setting her down gently. He grabbed a bottle of brandy, poured two glasses, and pressed one into her trembling hands.
"Drink," he commanded softly.
Clara took a sip, the liquid burning a path of warmth down her throat. She looked at Julian. He was covered in drywall dust, his tuxedo ruined, a small cut bleeding above his eyebrow.
"You knew," Clara whispered, staring at him. "You knew they were going to make their move tonight. You used me as bait to distract Dante while the FBI got into position."
Julian knelt before her, his expression filled with agonizing guilt. "I knew Dante would try to intimidate you. I had Victor and three snipers watching your every move. I would never have let him touch you."
"You put me in the crossfire!" Clara yelled, throwing the brandy glass at the wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces. "I am not a pawn in your mafia chess game, Julian! I'm a person!"
Julian flinched, absorbing her anger. "I know. And I hate myself for it. But I had to burn out the rot in my company, or they would have hunted us forever."
He reached out, his large, rough hand gently cupping her jaw. His thumb wiped away a stray tear from her cheek.
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"I didn't do this for the hotels, Clara," Julian confessed, his voice breaking. "I did this for you. I tore down half my empire tonight so that you could walk down the street without looking over your shoulder. I love you."
Clara’s breath hitched. The ruthless billionaire, the monster of Chicago, was kneeling before her, offering his soul.
