Chapter 6 - The Game of Shadows
For three agonizing days, Clara was a prisoner in the gilded cage of the penthouse. Julian did not come home. He slept at the office, dealing with the fallout of the leaked merger.
Clara paced the floor, her mind racing. She knew she was innocent. Which meant someone with top-level clearance had framed her. Someone who wanted to destroy Julian’s trust in her and sever their alliance.
Victoria.
Late on the third night, the front doors of the penthouse clicked open. Julian walked in. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened, dark circles under his eyes.
Clara stood up from the couch, her hands balled into fists. “Are you ready to send me to prison, Julian?”
Julian didn't answer. He walked over to the stereo system, turned the classical music up incredibly loud, and then walked directly up to Clara. Before she could protest, he grabbed her by the waist, pulled her flush against his chest, and leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.
“Don't react,” he breathed, his voice barely audible under the music. “The penthouse is bugged. My security team found listening devices in the vents this morning.”
Clara froze, her anger instantly evaporating into shock.
“I never believed it was you,” Julian whispered, his breath hot against her neck, sending a wildly inappropriate shiver down her spine. “I had to play along to flush out the rat in my organization. I couldn't tell you, or your reaction wouldn't have been genuine.”
Clara looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Who is it?”
“Marcus,” Julian replied, his eyes dark with fury. “He’s been on Victoria’s payroll for six months. She promised him a seat on the board of Sterling Industries if he helped her break our marriage and send you to jail.”
“What do we do?” Clara whispered back, her hands instinctively resting on his broad chest.
Julian looked down at her. The proximity was intoxicating. He had spent three days pretending to hate her, and the toll it took on him was evident in the raw hunger in his eyes.
May you like
“We let them think they won,” Julian murmured. He slowly lifted a hand, tangling his fingers in her dark hair. “And then we burn them to the ground.”
He didn't pull away. The line between acting and reality completely dissolved. Julian leaned down and kissed her. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was desperate, bruising, and possessive—a release of weeks of pent-up tension. Clara kissed him back with equal ferocity, her hands gripping his shoulders, anchoring herself to the only man who had ever truly fought for her.
