CHAPTER SEVEN - EXPOSURE

Monday came with too much noise.

The boardroom buzzed with execs and interns alike, coffee machines hissed like steam engines, and Julian was already two floors deep in a brand risk assessment meeting before Aiden had even sat down.

But none of that mattered.

Not really.

Because the only thing Aiden could think about was the elevator, the archives, and the moment that almost happened. The weight of Julian’s forehead against his. The burn of his touch.

And the fact that they’d both let it go.

He hadn’t seen Julian since. Not in any real way. They’d exchanged two emails; sharp, professional. No emotion. No memory.

Julian had returned to his full armor.

Aiden tried to do the same.

—

The pitch to the Sonder board was scheduled for 3:00 p.m. sharp.

By 2:30, the top floor was pure tension. Executives aligned in silent rows like chess pieces. Everything had been rehearsed, polished, pre-approved.

Julian stood at the center, dressed in navy and black. Calm. Powerful. Unshakable.

Aiden sat just behind him.

“Remember,” Julian said without turning. “Control the emotion. Don’t let it control you.”

Aiden’s lips curved, just slightly. “Is that professional advice, or personal?”

Julian didn’t answer.

He just stepped into the light.

—

The presentation was a hit.

The Sonder team loved the intimacy angle. Zane looked particularly pleased, though his smile was directed more at Julian than the screen.

Afterward, the compliments rolled in.

“You’re a beast,” Carter whispered to Aiden as they exited the conference room. “Honestly, I’m kind of scared of you now.”

Aiden just laughed, short and tired.

He should’ve been celebrating.

But when he looked at Julian across the hallway—accepting praise, shaking hands, answering questions—there was no acknowledgment in his expression at all.

Like that night in the archives had never happened.

—

By six, most of the office was empty. Aiden stayed late again, telling himself it was out of habit.

But when he saw Julian’s light still on, something in his chest tightened.

He didn’t knock. Just walked in.

Julian didn’t look up.

“Are you avoiding me?” Aiden asked.

Julian kept typing. “I’ve been busy.”

“Right,” Aiden said. “So the near-kiss, the heat, the… silence after—none of that threw you off?”

Julian’s hands stilled on the keyboard.

“You want it to have meant something?” he asked quietly.

Aiden stepped closer. “I want you to stop pretending it didn’t.”

Julian finally met his eyes.

And for once, the mask cracked.

Just a little.

“I think about it,” he said.

That admission alone—a spark.

“But I also think about what happens if we cross that line,” Julian added. “And we can’t uncross it.”

Aiden swallowed. “Maybe we’re already on the other side.”

Julian stood.

And for a second, Aiden thought this would be it. The moment the line burned away completely.

But then the door opened.

Clarissa stepped in.

She froze, reading the tension instantly. Her eyes flicked between them. She said nothing, but the silence said everything.

Julian stepped back like he’d been caught doing something illegal.

“What is it?” he asked, too fast.

Clarissa hesitated. “Zane just left. He wanted to say goodbye. I told him I’d pass it along.”

Her tone was neutral.

But her eyes?

They lingered on Aiden.

Then Julian.

Then she left, the door closing softly behind her.

—

That night, Aiden went home.

He tried to ignore the itch in his brain. The sense that something was unraveling slowly. That Clarissa had seen something she wasn’t supposed to.

And tomorrow?

She wouldn’t forget it.

—

The next morning, the tension was louder than the emails.

Clarissa didn’t greet him when he walked in.

Carter made an offhand comment about "late-night meetings with the boss" that felt a little too pointed.

Julian didn’t say a word.

Until noon.

“Come with me,” he said to Aiden.

Just that.

—

They ended up in the same conference room. The door shut behind them with a soft click.

Aiden stood his ground. “What’s this?”

Julian paced once before stopping.

“I need to know where you stand,” he said.

Aiden folded his arms. “About what?”

Julian’s jaw flexed. “About us.”

The word hovered between them like a grenade.

“I don’t know what this is,” Aiden admitted. “But I’m not walking around pretending it’s nothing.”

Julian exhaled. “We can’t afford this. Not here. Not now.”

“You mean you can’t afford it,” Aiden said. “Because you’re the one with a name on the door. Or maybe…” He stepped closer. “—maybe you’re just afraid of what happens when you’re not in control.”

Julian looked at him sharply.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he said.

“No,” Aiden whispered. “But you’re afraid of feeling something you can’t manage.”

Julian’s hand reached up, half-formed—like he meant to touch him.

But then the door opened again.

Zane.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t know the room was booked.”

Aiden turned fast, guilt prickling down his spine.

Julian’s expression locked back into place.

Zane smiled slowly.

Then, as he walked away, he said just loud enough:

“Should’ve known. The tension makes sense now.”

—

Aiden’s heart stopped.

Julian stood completely still.

Neither said anything.

But at that moment, something shattered.

Because someone else knew.

And now, no matter what they said; or didn’t—they were exposed.