Todos os capítulos de Inappropriate Conduct : Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Chapter 32: Appearances POV: Julian Julian Black had never been told to “tone it down” in his entire career. He’d been told he was too aggressive, too ambitious, too relentless—but those were compliments disguised as criticism. He wore them like armor, because they meant he was winning. But now? Now the same board that had once begged him to save their sinking campaigns was telling him to control appearances. Like his love for Jamie was a stain that needed bleaching out. The message came in a “casual” sit-down with two senior partners and HR. They didn’t meet in the boardroom this time. Too formal, too visible. Instead, they booked a small corner office, blinds half-shut, voices pitched low as if his life were a secret to be managed. “Julian,” one of the partners began carefully, “you’ve been invaluable to this company. No one doubts your talent, your leadership, or your record. But—” “There’s always a but,” Julian said flatly. The man winced. “Optics are critical right now

Chapter 34: Sabotage POV: Julian Julian Black wasn’t used to losing. He wasn’t used to waiting, either. Promotions had always arrived like clockwork—earned through years of late nights that bled into dawns, impossible pitches turned into impossible wins, and a reputation so meticulously polished that people mistook it for actual perfection. He had never once begged for a seat at the table; the table had simply widened to accommodate him. So when the board had quietly promised the open Senior Creative Partner position was his—had shaken his hand in the hallway, clapped him on the shoulder, murmured “It’s only a formality now”—Julian had allowed himself the rare luxury of certainty. That certainty lasted exactly six days. The email arrived at 8:47 a.m. on a Thursday, subject line clinical and bloodless: *Update: Senior Creative Partner – Review Timeline*. He opened it anyway. *The board has decided to delay the promotion decision pending review of recent internal concerns

Chapter 36: Ghosts of Scandal POV: Julian Julian didn’t go home that night. He sat in his office long after the cleaners had left, long after the building emptied, staring at the city lights through glass that suddenly felt too thin. Jamie’s campaign had been brilliant. Everyone was talking about it. Proud whispers. Admiration. Respect. And Julian hadn’t been there to see it. Not because he didn’t want to. But because he couldn’t risk tainting it. Couldn’t let anyone think Jamie’s success was his hand guiding the wheel. He told himself it was the right choice. Professional. Necessary. So why did it feel like punishment? He poured himself a drink from the decanter he kept for late nights. The whiskey burned down his throat, but the ghosts it conjured burned hotter. Because this wasn’t the first time he’d sat alone like this, staring at a skyline and wondering if everything he’d built was about to collapse. The last time had been years ago. A different city. A different com

Chapter 38: The Pressure Cooker POV: Julian The boardroom smelled like old money and polished wood teak, wax, the faint metallic bite of expensive fountain pens left uncapped too long. Sunlight sliced through half-closed blinds in sharp, accusing lines across the mahogany table. Julian sat at the head, shoulders squared beneath the crisp lines of his charcoal suit, face carefully neutral. Across from him, half a dozen board members shifted in their leather chairs: papers rustled, throats cleared, ice clinked faintly in forgotten water glasses. Their collective gaze pressed down harder than any gavel ever could. “Mr. Black,” Eleanor Price began. Her voice carried the practiced calm of someone who’d delivered bad news in rooms like this for decades. The diamond brooch at her throat caught the light like a warning flare. “We’ll be direct. Your conduct has become a distraction.” Julian’s jaw tightened. He didn’t speak. Not yet. He let the accusation hang there, heavy and deliberate.

Chapter 40: Pulling Away POV: Julian --- The laughter carried down the hallway. Julian slowed as he passed the open door of the creative bullpen, his stride faltering. Jamie was in the center of it, leaning against a desk with his curls a little wild, his hands moving as he told a story. The whole team was gathered, eyes on him, laughing. Not politely. Not forced. Real. Amanda clapped him on the shoulder like they’d been friends for years. Even Greg from accounts cracked a grin. Julian’s chest tightened. He should’ve been proud. He was proud. Jamie had fought for that moment and earned it. But pride wasn’t the only thing twisting his stomach. It was something darker. Something sharp. Because for the first time, Julian saw what Jamie looked like without him. And he shone. --- Julian turned away before anyone saw him watching. His shoes clicked against the marble, fast, clipped. He didn’t stop until he was back in his office, the door shut, blinds drawn.