CHAPTER FOUR - THE SUBMIT

The investor summit was held in a private glass hall perched over the Hudson. The kind of space that made people feel powerful just for breathing its air.

Aiden had never seen so many suits that probably cost more than his student debt. Everything was glittering. The walls, the guests, the wine.

Julian arrived in silence, as always. Dressed in black this time. No tie. Just an open collar and that same cold command in his posture. He moved through the crowd, and he didn't bother looking at anyone. But people were looking at him.

Aiden watched from afar, resisting the urge to adjust his jacket again, for the fifth time.

Clarissa leaned towards him.

“He just hates these things,” she whispered. “But he never shows it.”

“I can't say for sure if this is impressive or sad to be honest.”

She gave him a brief smile. “Maybe both.”

Julian turned slightly. “Shaw.”

Aiden straightened. “Yes, sir?”

“You’ll shadow the Sonder pitch. Observe. Take mental notes.”

“Got it.”

“And stay silent unless I tell you otherwise.”

Aiden bit back a grin. “Wouldn’t dream of stealing your spotlight.”

Julian gave him a flat look. “It’s not about the spotlight. It’s about control.”

The words settled between them like a dare.

The presentation took place in a smaller side room with tinted glass and strategically placed lighting. Aiden stood just behind Julian as he greeted the executives. Calm, poised, precise.

He watched Julian switch gears the second he opened his mouth–turning effortless charm into influence. Every sentence was a move. Every word designed to land softly and hold firm.

Aiden wasn’t impressed.

He was fascinated.

Julian didn’t just lead. He owned space.

By the time the pitch ended, Aiden had memorized his tone, his pauses, his flow. He had questions. Thoughts. Suggestions.

But he said nothing.

As instructed.

Julian didn’t glance back even once.

Afterward, as the group dispersed, Julian turned.

“Well?”

Aiden blinked. “Now I can talk?”

Julian didn’t smile, but the edge of his mouth lifted slightly. “You have thirty seconds.”

“You’re too polished,” Aiden said. “Too smooth. It’s not persuasive. It’s rehearsed. They listened, but they didn’t connect.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “You think connection matters more than clarity?”

“In a brand like Sonder? Absolutely. People don’t travel for clarity. They travel for feeling. Emotion. Meaning.”

A pause.

“Interesting,” Julian said.

“That a compliment or a warning?”

“That remains to be seen.”

He turned and walked off.

Aiden followed, pulsing a little too fast, unsure if he’d just earned Julian’s approval or painted a target on his own back.

Aiden found himself standing near the balcony that was just close to the bar, watching the beauty of the sky across the glass.

Julian was across the room, in deep conversation with a woman in emerald silk. He didn’t smile at her either. Just nodded once, then excused himself.

And walked straight toward Aiden.

“Drink?” he asked.

Aiden glanced at the untouched glass in his hand. “Already have one.”

Julian’s gaze dropped to it briefly. “Then finish it. And follow me.”

There was no room for no.

Aiden knocked back the rest, left the glass, and followed.

Julian didn't even stop at the bar. He literally walked past it, went through a tiny service corridor and went into a smaller, private balcony with a nice view.

No one was there.

He just leaned against the rail. Silent. Still.

Aiden stood beside him.

“So this is where you come to avoid being charming?”

Julian’s jaw ticked. “Something like that.”

The wind was quite heavy that it blew his collar upwards and brushing the edge of his shirt open-just enough to reveal a line of his collarbone. Aiden immediately looked away.

“You were right earlier,” Julian said. “About connection.”

Aiden turned. “Didn’t expect you to admit that.”

“I don’t usually,” Julian said. “But I’ve learned to listen when–someone who is smarter in the room.”

That hit differently.

Aiden stared at the skyline. “So why hide me behind you during the pitch?”

Julian’s eyes didn’t leave the view. “Because you weren’t ready.”

“And if I was?”

Julian finally looked at him.

“I’d still keep you behind me. For now.”

His words were sharp. But the way he said them wasn’t.

Not cold. Not cruel.

Protective.

Aiden swallowed “I can see you like being the one in control?”

Julian didn’t blink. “Control is how I survive.”

A long silence passed between them.

The city buzzed below. Inside, the music swelled again.

“I saw you,” Aiden said suddenly. “Last night. In the office.”

Julian turned slowly.

“You were at the window. You looked… different.”

Julian didn’t speak.

Aiden stepped closer.

“You looked like someone else.”

“I was,” Julian said quietly. “For a minute.”

They were too close now. The kind of close that wasn’t about space, but about choices. About what would or wouldn’t happen in the next breath.

Aiden’s chest tightened.

Julian didn’t move away.

“I should go back inside,” Aiden said.

“You should,” Julian agreed.

But neither of them moved.

And then, without warning, Julian’s fingers brushed against Aiden’s wrist.

Just a touch.

Nothing dramatic.

But it was enough.

Enough to flood Aiden’s system with heat and confusion and something dangerously close to desire.

He stepped back.

Julian didn’t apologize.

Didn’t explain.

He just turned back to the railing, face unreadable again.

But his hand?

It lingered on the metal edge of the balcony, fingers flexing once, like something inside him had slipped through a crack and hadn’t been caught in time.