You Were Never Just My Boss

Chapter 9

Bea’s POV

The bubbles in my champagne glass blurred at the edges, catching the ballroom lights like stars that didn’t know they were falling.

I laughed too loud and leaned into Damien’s shoulder as he whispered something in French I couldn’t understand but decided to enjoy anyway. Everything was too bright, too gold, too perfect, and I drank it in like I had something to prove. I didn’t care about Julian. I didn’t. Not when I had a gorgeous creative director feeding me compliments like sugar cubes. I laughed again, let my fingers trace the rim of my glass, and tilted it back until the sweet fizz drowned out the crack in my chest.

Julian stood at the edge of the crowd, brooding into a glass of scotch like a villain waiting for his cue. His eyes hadn’t left me for the past twenty minutes, and I could feel the weight of his glare even from across the room. It clung to my skin, cold and sharp, but I refused to flinch. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not tonight. Not when I was dressed like a siren and being looked at like I was the center of the universe. I laughed again, louder, just for him.

Damien leaned closer, brushing his fingers along my wrist. “You’re not like the others,” he murmured, voice smooth and easy. “They all look so perfect. You look… alive.”

I smiled, warm and bitter. “That’s one word for it. Or you can just tell me, it’s because I’m fat.”

He stopped me from ridiculing myself and encouraged me to have fun instead. The night blurred around the edges after that.

I danced with people I didn’t know, smiled for photos I wouldn’t remember, let champagne wash over the ache like it was medicine. It didn’t work. Not really. But it numbed the sharp edges of Julian’s voice echoing in my memory, and that was enough to keep going.

By the time Damien walked me to the car, the world had turned soft and unsteady. He kissed my hand, whispered something about tomorrow, and closed the door behind me.

I was a little drunk as I walked toward the lobby, turning around to catch one last glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, its lights shimmering like a thousand stars. My gown clung to my legs, and my heels dug into my ankles, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want the night to end. I didn’t want to face whatever came next.

As I stepped into the lobby, my legs wobbled slightly beneath me, my head spinning with champagne and regret—and then I saw him.

Julian Wolfe. Leaning against the elevator bank like a goddamn statue, all sharp lines and stormy eyes. His tie was gone, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his forearms like he’d been pacing. His scotch glass was empty. His expression wasn’t.

My heart dropped.

“You’re staying with me,” he said. Not a question. A command. I blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His voice was low, dangerous.

“Why?” I asked, dragging the words out, half-dizzy and fully exhausted. “So you can insult me somewhere with better lighting?”

“You’re supposed to follow my orders,” he growled.

“Oh please, we’re not in the office now. What are you even doing here? Aren’t you scared other people would see you talking to a…pig?”

He didn’t move. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m honest,” I bit out, pointing a finger at his chest. “You kiss me like I matter and then walk around like I don’t exist.”

His eyes twitched and it cracked something in me. The pain rose fast, hot behind my eyes, and I couldn’t stop it anymore.

“Why do you do that?” I asked, voice breaking. “Why do you act like I’m disposable? Why don’t you like me?”

The lobby faded around us. It was just me, in a silk dress that suddenly felt too tight, and him, looking like he could shatter the world and rebuild it with the same cold hands.

His face softened. Barely. But it was there. “I don’t hate you,” he said. For the first time, his voice didn’t bite. It bled.

And then, before I could say anything, before the tears had even finished rolling down my cheeks, he stepped forward and kissed me like he’d been dying to.

Not a soft kiss. Not a polite one. It was a kiss that said you ruined me. A kiss that said I can’t stop. A kiss that said you’re the thing I can’t unfeel. He kissed me like it was the last thing he’d ever do.