Chapter 8 - The Unexpected Reunion
Julian didn't look away. Instead, a slow, warm smile spread across his face, and he raised his scotch glass in a silent toast.
My heart—usually as steady and predictable as a Swiss bank account—skipped a single, inconvenient beat.
I excused myself from a group of real estate developers from New York and walked across the polished marble terrace toward the glass railing where Julian stood. The autumn wind caught the hem of my emerald gown, but I didn't feel the chill.
"Julian Vance," I said, stopping a foot away from him. "Zurich is six thousand miles away. What brings you to the Wild West?"
"I heard a rumor," Julian replied, his deep voice carrying that smooth, effortless European cadence that always commanded attention. "Word travels fast in international finance. I heard that a certain ruthless corporate empress in Dallas single-handedly dismantled a multi-million-dollar fraud scheme, reclaimed her capital, and bought out her own company in less than thirty days."
I leaned against the railing beside him, looking out at the glowing highway arteries below. "Rumors tend to exaggerate. It took thirty-one days."
Julian laughed—a rich, genuine sound that made the ambient noise of the party fade into the background. "Ah, precision. I’d expect nothing less from Olivia Cade."
"It's just Olivia Sloan... well, officially Olivia Cade again," I corrected myself smoothly, a faint, ironic smile touching my lips. "I dropped the 'Sloan' badge along with the dead weight."
"Good," Julian said quietly, turning slightly to face me. His dark eyes were intense, carrying a depth and sincerity that I hadn't experienced in a decade. "The name never suited you anyway. It lacked... sovereignty."
We stood in silence for a moment, the distance between us charged with an unspoken history. Julian wasn't like Barrett. He didn't need to dominate a room to feel important; his confidence was quiet, earned, and absolute. He had watched me build my career from the ground up, respected my intellect, and never once treated me as an accessory to his own ambition.
"So," Julian said, breaking the quiet. "Are you going to let me buy you a drink to celebrate your independence, or are you going to keep running the most powerful investment firm in Texas?"
"I can multitask," I replied, tilting my head. "But right now, I think the champagne inside has had its day. Let's get some fresh air."
We walked side by side down the private marble stairs leading to the hotel’s secluded sculpture garden, away from the flashing cameras and the superficial chatter of the gala. The night air was cool, smelling of fallen leaves and distant rain.
As we walked along the cobblestone path, Julian reached out, his hand gently brushing against mine.
Our fingers intertwined.
It wasn't a desperate, clawing grip like the one Barrett had used in the Crescent Lounge weeks ago. It was steady, warm, and entirely natural—a partnership built on mutual respect, equality, and shared strength.
"I’m in Dallas for a month, Liv," Julian said softly, his thumb tracing the back of my hand. "My firm is looking to anchor a new multi-billion-dollar infrastructure project across the American South. And I was hoping... very specifically... that Cade Capital would be our lead partner."
I stopped walking and looked up at him under the amber glow of the garden lanterns.
"Is that a business proposal, Julian?" I asked, a playful challenge in my eyes.
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"It’s a proposal for everything," he answered, his gaze locking onto mine with unwavering certainty. "Business, partnership, and whatever comes after."
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