The interior of the luxurious car was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, assuming that pin cost five thousand dollars and was made of solid platinum.
I slumped completely into the heated leather passenger seat, my head flopping back like a ragdoll while the city streetlights blurred outside the dark windows like long lines of melted gold.
My poor little feet were finally free from those five-inch velvet torture devices pretending to be designer heels, and resting comfortably on the soft floor mat.
I was currently wiggling my toes with so much joy I almost cried— the relief was religious “So,” I began, breaking the thick silence, “is it standard billionaire procedure to order takeout from a five-star Italian bistro at midnight, or did you just want to see if the driver could break three speed limits getting it to us?” Julian didn’t look up from his tablet, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
“When I promise pizza, Roxie, I deliver.
And Marco’s doesn’t deliver past ten unless I personally ask.” “Flexing your wealth over carbohydrates,” I muttered, shaking my head with a faint smile.
“Classic Vance—I mean, Montgomery—wait, who are we ruining tomorrow again?
My fake high-society brain is officially fried.
If you ask me to name a European country right now, I’m going to say Wakanda.” Julian finally locked his tablet, setting it on the center console.
He turned his body slightly toward me, those dark, unreadable eyes anchoring on my face.
“Tomorrow, you rest.
Richard Montgomery’s board is already filing emergency motions after tonight’s stunt.
You gave us the leverage we needed.” “Good,” I sighed, pulling the heavy diamond earrings off my lobes and letting out a soft sigh of relief.
“Because if I have to put on that thick Monaco accent for one more hour, I’m going to accidentally use it at Mc.Donald’s drive-thru.” The driver smoothly pulled the massive car into the gated underground garage of Julian’s private penthouse building, bringing us to a silent stop.
Before we even unbuckled our seatbelts, a steaming, custom-designed gold box of gourmet pizza was passed through the front window by his chief of security like it was top-secret government intel documents.
Five minutes later, we were standing in his massive, minimalist kitchen.
The marble countertops were cold, but the box sitting between us gave off the most glorious scent of melted mozzarella, roasted garlic, and truffle oil.
I didn’t even wait for a plate.
I grabbed a slice, took a hot, messy bite, and closed my eyes in pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
“Oh, sweet beautiful baby Jesus.
Forget the Oscar.
Give me three more of these and I’ll play your fake mother till I’m eighty.” Julian stood leaning against the edge of the island, a crystal glass of scotch in his hand.
He wasn’t eating.
He was just watching me—his gaze steady, heavy, and far too intense for a kitchen at 1:00 AM.
“You really don’t care about the prestige, do you?” he asked quietly, his voice cutting through the soft hum of the refrigerator.
I wiped a tiny drop of sauce from the corner of my lip with a napkin, looking up at him.
“The prestige?
Julian, two months ago I was calculating whether I could afford eggs and milk in the same week.
The prestige is a performance.
The pizza is real don’t you think.” Julian went quiet.
He set his glass down and didn’t answer right away.
He just stood there across the marble island, looking like he was evaluating a multi-million-dollar acquisition instead of a broke girl eating his high-end pizza.
Then, he let out a slow, tired breath.
Reaching up with one hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose before unbuttoning his collar.
With an effortless, fluid motion, he tugged his black silk tie loose, pulling it completely free from his neck and dropping it casually onto the counter.
He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt, exposing the sharp line of his throat and the faint edge of his collarbone.
Oh, come on, my brain shrieked instantly.
Is the air conditioning broken in here, or is he doing this on purpose?!
Why does a corporate CEO loosening his tie look like a whole scene from a luxury cologne commercial ad?
Get it together, Roxie!
I choked back my internal panic, forcing my face to stay completely neutral as I took another bite of pizza.
“Hard day at the office, Boss?” “Hard month,” Julian corrected smoothly, his voice dropping into that low, quiet register.
He didn’t even notice me staring.
He picked up his crystal glass of scotch, took a slow sip, and leaned his hip against the counter.
“Richard Montgomery has been a thorn in my side for three years.
You dismantled him in twenty minutes.” “That’s because Richard plays by board rules,” I said, pointing a crust at him.
“I play by drama school survival rules.
Different arena.” Julian’s lips twitched—just a micro-fraction of a smirk, so subtle you’d miss it if you weren’t watching his face like a hawk.
Stop looking at his mouth, I screamed at myself.
He is your employer!
He is paying your rent!
Do not get distracted by billionaire jawlines!
“Regardless,” Julian said, his dark eyes meeting mine with absolute, professional seriousness.
“You delivered.
Tomorrow morning, the press release drops.
The media is going to lose its mind over Lady Sterling.” “Let them,” I said, holding up my slice like a glass of fine champagne to hide the slight flutter in my chest at his comments.
“Lady Sterling is just getting started.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Bel_Rose When Julian unbuttoned his shirt and loosened that tie, Roxie’s brain completely left the chat.
(T_T) She might be playing a fake aristocrat, but her love for late-night carbs and her internal panic over billionaire jawlines is 100% real.
What was your favorite line from tonight’s scene?