Ch61 - Strange emotions

Lydia’s dad wasn’t mad at her at all. When she showed up talking about a potential business angle for the company, Ryan actually looked… relieved. Like, finally, his daughter was growing up.

But the second she said she wanted to lead the project, Ryan hesitated. She’d only been in the company for a short time—nowhere near experienced enough to run something that big.

Still, after Lydia kept pushing, coaxing, and basically wearing him down, he eventually agreed to let her be the project’s deputy lead. In his mind, it was a good chance for her to prove she could handle real responsibility, maybe even prep her for taking over the company one day.

Once Lydia threw herself into work, her world got busy fast—and Julian’s world got noticeably quieter. When Felix went to see him, he only talked business, carefully avoiding anything related to Lydia.

——

At the same time, Violet had her head buried in work too—but a new headache landed right on her desk. 

Her December schedule had a clash. Edward was supposed to take her to Switzerland that month, right when Julian had planned their “honeymoon trip.” Both trips were set for the second week of December.

Both were technically “work.” But of course she leaned toward Switzerland—she might finally get to meet the legendary watchmaker, Mr. Reinhardt. She’d already missed him once. Was she really going to miss him again?

With that anxious thought sitting in her chest, she waited for Julian to come home so she could bring it up.

While waiting, she baked a lemon tart. Fresh lemons filled the kitchen with that clean, bright citrus smell. She cut a slice aside for Julian at first, but then remembered—he didn’t really like sweets. The last time he finished her dark sea-salt chocolate cake, it was probably just to be polite.

She was packing the tart up to bring to the office the next day when Julian suddenly appeared in the kitchen. His eyes lingered on the tart for a few seconds before he stepped behind her, one hand braced on the counter, half-caging her in. 

“New recipe today? Got a piece for me?”

Violet only realized he was back when she felt the warmth behind her, his breath brushing her ear. She shrank a little instinctively, heart tripping, and turned her face to the side. “Mm… yeah.”

Julian lowered his head, set his other hand on the counter by her waist, voice lazy. “Feed me.”

Her head shifted a little, confused about where to look, but her hands were already moving—cutting a neat slice, sliding it carefully onto a plate. She stabbed a small bite with the fork, hesitating. “This one isn’t too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

Julian’s mouth twitched into a smile as he angled his body beside her and bent down slightly, making it easier for her.

She could feel his stare—warm, heavy, almost melting her. She lifted the fork, stiff as a board, turning her body halfway toward him. Her eyes met his for half a second before darting away again. She didn’t know why being this close suddenly made her so tense, like someone had flipped a switch inside her.

The fork hovered a little too far from his mouth, but he didn’t rush her. If anything, his smile deepened, a softness flickering through his eyes even he didn’t notice. A quiet laugh spilled out of him.

Her heart gave a quick jolt. She looked up—and the next thing she knew, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, guiding her hand. He leaned in and took the bite straight from the fork.

The lemon hit him first—bright, sharp, then fading into the creamy sweetness and that mellow buttery finish. It wasn’t just tasty; it was the kind of flavor that warmed straight into the chest.

Violet stared, frozen.

Julian swallowed, casually took the fork from her hand, raised a brow. “Did you taste it yet?”

She blinked, immediately worried. “What—was it too sweet? Too sour?”

Her brain flew back over every step of the recipe, checking for mistakes—and her thoughts snapped when he tapped her nose with his fingertip.

She looked up. Julian’s eyes were curved, warm, and he leaned in—close enough that she forgot how to breathe—until she saw the fork again, lifted toward her lips.

“Relax,” he murmured. “It’s good. Try it.”

She finally snapped out of it, embarrassment rushing up her neck. Why on earth had she just assumed he was going to kiss her—

She darted him a quick glance. He nudged the fork lightly, and she leaned in, pretending to be composed, taking the bite.

It really was good—better than she expected. Soft, bright, melting on her tongue. She licked a bit of lemon from her lip without thinking—

—and suddenly a shadow fell over her. Warmth brushed the corner of her mouth, quick and soft. He’d leaned in and kissed her, just like that, then pulled back.

Julian hadn’t planned it. It was instinct—like something a husband would do coming home to his wife, natural and unforced. It wasn’t until he saw Violet staring at him in shock that he paused too.

Her teeth caught her bottom lip, and she turned her face away fast.

The kitchen was thick with something warm and charged, humming right between them.

A soft flush crept up Violet’s ears. She hesitated, half-question and half-guessing: “So… is it because that stuff from the other night hasn’t worn off yet?”

It was the first time either of them had even brushed against that topic since they slept together. She’d kept quiet. He’d kept quiet. And now, she’d nudged the paper-thin layer between them and torn it open. 

Her wording was vague, but she clearly wasn’t clueless—she must’ve guessed he drank something he shouldn’t have, or someone set him up, and that’s why he’d been… different that night.

Julian’s fingers curled slightly before he pulled his hand off the counter, taking a half-step back—putting distance between them. “No.”

Whatever warmth had been in his eyes earlier vanished, replaced by his usual lazy, detached look.

Violet loosened her teeth from her lip, leaving a faint bite mark there. She wasn’t upset because she thought he only used her as some “antidote.” What unsettled her was the mess of strange emotions that hit her whenever he got too close. 

Their marriage was supposed to be “work.” Nothing more. That necklace he gave her—was clearly payment. She shouldn’t be thinking about anything else. She told herself that again.

But watching the sparks in the room fade with every inch he backed away, she felt that same dull sting of disappointment quietly rise in her chest.

Julian kept the distance between them, one hand slipping into his pocket. “About our trip… the one coming up soon—”

“Right, I actually have something to talk to you about too.” Violet finally remembered why she’d been waiting for him.

“Shoot.”

“I was hoping I could slip away for two days and go to the Jura in Switzerland.” Seeing his questioning look, she added, “You remember Edward, right? My boss at the atelier. My mentor.”

The moment Julian heard that name, his expression dropped—subtle but obvious.

Violet caught it, hesitated. “I know the whole honeymoon thing is really just a cover for your private trip. But if it’s possible, I’d really like to go to Jura. My mentor’s mentor—Reinhardt, the master watchmaker—is there. I want to meet him.”

Reinhardt.

Julian knew that name. It clicked—he’d ordered a watch from him before. Honestly, he didn’t always buy pieces because he loved the designs. Half the time, he just wanted something rare. Hard to get. Exclusivity was the point. But some watches had caught his eye—like the one he gifted Violet. That one was Reinhardt’s work too. He’d wanted it from just a photo.

“It works out,” Julian said lightly. “I was gonna change our destination to Switzerland anyway. We’ll land in Zurich together, then split off.”

He couldn’t fly straight to Munich—way too obvious. His plan was to land in a neighboring country, then slip into Munich under the radar to find his late father’s former financial adviser. Italy, France, Switzerland—any of them would’ve worked. 

No need to explain it to her. Telling her they’d go to Switzerland was enough—and honestly, it was safer. Fewer people, harder to tail someone.

“Really?” Violet’s hands came together, excitement lighting her whole face.

Julian paused for half a beat, brow arching. “We’ve got seven days once you subtract flight time. Two of those we’ll need for photos to keep up appearances. The rest? Do whatever you want.”