Ch34 - Stir in him

There was a sudden splash—water spilling everywhere as Julian rose from the hot tub in one smooth motion.

“Hey! What the hell, man? I was mid-sentence!” Felix called after him.

Julian didn’t respond. He stubbed out his cigarette, took the towel handed to him, and wiped himself off in quick, efficient strokes. Droplets trailed down the lines of his abdomen before he pulled on a robe and strode straight toward Violet.

Passing Lydia without a glance, he stopped right in front of Violet. His eyes flicked down—first to her collarbone, then the curve of her waist. 

His throat went dry. The heat behind his gaze lingered only for a second before he forced it away. Reaching forward, he drew her robe closed around her.

Then his arm slid around her waist, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric. Violet looked up at him, startled.

Lydia, who had been brushed aside without so much as a look, stood there frozen, her expression darkening.

Julian’s gaze, on the other hand, was molten—heavy, unwavering, possessive.

Hands clenched slightly. Lydia took a quiet breath and forced a smile. “Relax, Julian. You don’t have to be so tense. I didn’t realize your wife had such a great figure.” 

Her voice dripped with false sweetness. “Come on, she should be showing it off, not hiding in that robe. Everyone else is in swimwear. Don’t forget you’re here to talk business.”

Julian tilted his head down toward Violet, his voice low and deliberate. “It’s cold. She can take it off when she’s at the water.”

Lydia’s knuckles whitened, veins standing out along her hand.

“Your wife?” Felix panted, still catching his breath. The moment Julian had stepped out of the tub, he’d scrambled after, water still dripping. 

He took one look at Violet and blinked. Her delicate features, those wide, bright eyes—she looked almost unreal, like a porcelain doll.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, grinning. “So the legend’s real. You are Mrs. Ashford. I’m Felix—Julian’s oldest friend—his partner-in-crime and business partner.” He shook Violet’s hand enthusiastically.

She blinked, a little overwhelmed, but managed a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Felix turned to Julian, smirking. “No wonder you’ve been hiding her. Damn, she’s stunning.”

“Hey!” Lydia snapped, kicking him lightly on the hip. “Stop gawking like you’ve never seen a woman before.”

Felix spun around. “What? Did I lie? She is gorgeous. Don’t tell me you’re jealous ‘cause she’s younger and prettier—”

“What? Of course not!” Lydia snapped, her face flushing red and green all at once.

“Right. Totally not jealous,” Felix teased. “You sound like one of those bitter fairy-tale witches.”

It was meant as a joke—but it hit right where it hurt. Lydia’s features twisted as she glared at him, teeth clenched. “You really wanna die tonight, don’t you?”

She swung a hand at his back.

Felix dodged easily, laughing. “Oh come on, that the best you’ve got? You’ll have to try harder!”

“You’re dead, Felix J. Carter!”

She chased him, and he darted away, their voices echoing as they ran toward the pool, splashing water everywhere.

Julian slid his arm more securely around Violet’s shoulders. “Ignore them,” he murmured.

She nodded quietly and followed his lead. He guided her toward another hot tub where two couples were already lounging.

To everyone else, they looked perfectly intimate—her arm brushing his chest, his hand resting at her waist.

Leaning close to her ear, Julian spoke just above the music. “My business partners are all here tonight. They’ve each brought their plus-ones. So… you’ll have to stick with me for a while.”

Violet shifted slightly, unsure. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

Julian’s eyes flicked to the curve of her ear. “No. Just… try not to get bored. The talk might be dull.”

She gave a small nod.

They reached the edge of the hot tub, ready to step in. One of the men inside—thick accent, easy grin—called out, “Julian! Finally. Thought you’d bailed on us. Come, sit here with your lady.”

The people in the tub shifted, making space for them.

Julian stepped into the steaming water first, then offered his hand to Violet, helping her down beside him. 

She sat close, the heat immediately wrapping around her, but what made her uneasy was the man on her left—his eyes lingered too long, drifting her way more than once. Maybe she was imagining it… she hoped she was. Without realizing it, she edged closer to Julian.

The warm water of the pool steamed gently, loosening every pore and wrapping the body in comfort. 

A waiter passed by with a tray of drinks—champagne for some, whiskey for others.

The man who’d spoken earlier—Antoine—lowered his cigar and gave Violet a charming smile. “Jacuzzis in cold weather always go best with whiskey, not champagne,” he said, lifting his own glass as if to demonstrate. 

He turned to his date, holding it up to her lips. The woman giggled, took a sip, and then pressed her mouth to his—sharing both whiskey and smoke in a slow, indulgent kiss.

So that’s what he meant by drinking.

When they pulled apart, another couple in the tub followed suit, and suddenly the air was thick with laughter, steam, and the kind of heat that wasn’t from the water.

Julian arched a brow, tone lazy but amused. “Guess I underestimated how much the French love kissing.”

“Of course,” said another man—Henri, Antoine’s business partner and the number two in his private fund. “A kiss says I love you far better than words ever could.”

Julian’s eyes skimmed past the smooth-talking man, landing on Antoine instead. He swirled his glass lazily. “Antoine, I thought we were here to talk about your fund investing in Medi AI.”

Antoine laughed, a booming, delighted sound. “Naturally! That’s what I want most. Just like you want access to my contacts in France and Switzerland.”

Julian shrugged, casual as ever. He shifted slightly, brushing his shoulder against Violet’s.

Then, almost carelessly, he lifted his glass and offered it to her. She blinked, hesitated—then took a sip. The whiskey burned down her throat, making her pulse thud louder than the music.

In her peripheral vision, she saw him take a long drag from his cigar, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. Then his hand tilted her chin up. She froze—but didn’t resist.

His lips touched hers, cool at first, then warmer as the smoky breath he exhaled slipped between them. Whiskey and tobacco tangled together, sweet and bitter all at once. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the bubbling water.

His fingers held her jaw lightly, shielding their kiss from the others’ view. He drew her bottom lip between his, then deepened it just enough for his tongue to find hers—briefly, deliberately. 

When he pulled away, her eyes were still closed, lashes trembling.

Julian’s mouth curved, voice low and teasing. “Not bad.”

The others burst into laughter and applause. Antoine clapped his hands together. “Très bien! See, business doesn’t have to be all boardrooms and suits. This is how partnerships are made.”

The party energy picked up again, heat and laughter mixing in the steam.

Antoine leaned forward, his tone turning more serious. “Julian, you want Medi AI to stay independent—to keep it free from your country’s system. What you’ll need are legitimate partnerships in Europe. My family’s hospitals could offer exactly that. If you’re willing to share authorization, I’ll take care of the rest.”

Julian smiled faintly, though his eyes stayed cool. “Depends what kind of terms your family’s willing to offer.”

They started talking shop—medical jargon, investment phrases—none of which Violet could really follow. Her thoughts were still caught on the kiss, her cheeks burning, her heartbeat refusing to calm. 

To cover her fluster, she kept sipping her drink… one sip too many. The warmth of the whiskey and the hot water fused, turning her head light and dizzy.

Julian glanced down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy from heat and drink. He brushed a knuckle against her face without thinking.

She turned her head slightly, and the light hit her just right—her damp lashes, the faint sheen on her skin. It made something stir in him.

Across the tub, Henri let out a low whistle and said in French, half-joking, half-meaning it, “Where’d you find such a beautiful companion, Julian? I’m getting jealous.”

His tone carried more weight than his grin—it was a probe.