Chapter 2 - The Scent of Old Leather and Blood
Celeste’s friends didn't wait. They bolted for the elevator, abandoning Celeste where she stood. Trembling with rage and humiliation, Celeste glared at Lena with pure hatred before turning on her heel and marching toward her sports car, the engine roaring as she tore out of the garage.
Julian turned back to the quiet girl sitting on the floor.
He knelt again, taking a clean silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. Gently, with a tenderness that no one in the underworld would believe the ruthless boss possessed, he dabbed at the blood on Lena's lip.
Lena flinched slightly, but didn't pull away. "I tried to stand in front of the bumper, Mr. Vale," she whispered, tears slipping down her bruised cheek. "She had the spare keys from your study. She said she was going to take it for a joyride to test the transmission. I told her no. I told her it was yours."
"Shh," Julian murmured, his thumb catching a falling tear. "You don't need to explain anything. You protected my brother's memory when the people who claimed to love me couldn't care less."
He slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, effortlessly lifting her small frame into his arms. Lena gasped softly, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck, smelling the scent of cedar, expensive tobacco, and rain that always followed him.
"I can walk, Mr. Vale," she stammered, her face flushing crimson despite the welt on her cheek.
"I know you can," Julian said, carrying her toward his private elevator. "But you're not going to."
He brought her straight to his personal quarters on the top floor—a sanctuary no member of the household staff, not even Celeste, was ever permitted to enter. He laid her gently on the Italian leather sofa, calling for his personal physician on speakerphone before opening his private medical cabinet.
As he brought over a damp towel and antiseptic, Lena looked around the vast, darkened suite. On the oak desk sat a single framed photograph of a young Julian and his late brother, Owen, leaning against that very same silver roadster.
"Why did she hate me so much?" Lena asked softly as Julian carefully cleaned the cut on her mouth.
May you like
Julian paused, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
"Because she saw the way I looked at you," Julian admitted, his voice rough with an honesty he had kept buried for two agonizing years. "And she knew that even with a ring on her finger, she was always second best."
