All Chapters of My Accidental Billionaire Husband : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Julian’s POVThe check was paid before she could even reach for her purse. I didn't do it out of a sense of archaic chivalry; I did it because, in my world, the one who pays controls the pace. Information is currency, but timing is power, and I wasn't ready for this night to end. Not yet. I had spent my life moving from one objective to the next, but for the first time in years, the "machine" was idling.As we stepped out of the restaurant and into the cool, salt-heavy air of the French Riviera, the town of Antibes was glowing like a string of amber pearls against the velvet throat of the Mediterranean. The tourists were thinning out, leaving the cobblestone streets to the ghosts of old poets and the quiet hum of high-end security details."I heard that a boat sailing at night is much nicer," I said, glancing toward the marina where the superyachts bobbed like sleeping giants. "The water is calmer. The stars don't have to compete with the city lights or the noise of people trying too

Delia’s POVThe dining room of the Windsor estate was large enough to host a gala, yet it felt like a tomb. I had spent the last three hours ensuring the table was perfect. The silver was polished to a mirror finish, the candles were flickering with a soft, romantic glow, and the scent of the roasted duck, Julian’s favorite, or so the staff told me, filled the air.I was wearing a dress that cost more than most people’s cars, my hair swept into a perfect, effortless chignon. I looked exactly like a Windsor wife should. I looked like a woman who had won.Then I heard the heavy thud of the front door, followed by the measured, rhythmic footsteps of a man who didn't care who was waiting for him.Julian walked into the dining room, his presence immediately sucking the warmth out of the air. He looked tired, but it wasn't the exhaustion of a groom returning to his bride; it was the weariness of a king returning from a conquest. He didn't look at me. He didn't look at the table. He simply u

Katia’s POVThe lobby of the Windsor Empire Group was a temple of glass and brushed steel, a monument to the cold efficiency Julian Windsor demanded from the world. Usually, walking into a high-stakes meeting felt like stepping onto a battlefield where I held all the best weapons. But today, my grip on my briefcase felt loose. My skin felt too thin."Remember," Samantha whispered as the elevator surged toward the executive floor, "eyes on the data, not the man. You’re the CEO of IG Technologies. You’re here to prove our integration is seamless, not to answer for a jazz club in Antibes.""I know how to do my job, Sam," I replied, though my voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. I glanced down at my hands. They were bare, my fingers looking pale and vulnerable against the black leather of my bag. I had left the ring in my jewelry box at the loft. I couldn't risk it, not here. That ring cost a lot, so showcasing it would be a death wish.The elevator doors slid open.The conference ro

Katia’s POVMy phone had been buzzing for three solid minutes, vibrating against the mahogany surface of my desk like a persistent, gold-plated insect. I immediately knew it was one of my family members, and I also know that they didn't call unless they had a curated audience to perform for or a problem that required someone else’s hands to get dirty. Since Delia had just landed the "wedding of the century" and hitched her wagon to the Windsor star, I assumed she was calling to gloat about the size of her rock or the thread count of her new sheets.I finally picked up on the tenth ring, not even bothering with a greeting or the pretense of warmth. "I’m busy, Delia. Unless the house is on fire or you’re calling to tell me you’ve moved to another hemisphere, make it quick.""Hey, sis," her voice came through, sounding suspiciously soft, layered with a forced fragility that she usually reserved for the press. "Can we meet? Just for a bit? I’m in the neighborhood.""No. I have a company t

Julian’s POVI woke up to the soft, unforgiving light of a Manhattan morning filtering through the heavy velvet curtains of the guest suite. I never really take bitches to my main bedroom, but if Katia Kensington so much as looked my way, I wouldn't hesitate. The air in this wing of the estate was cooler, detached from the suffocating domesticity Delia was trying so desperately to cultivate. Beside me, Chloe stirred. She was a top-tier Parisian model I’d known for years—a woman who understood the language of silence and the transactional nature of high-end companionship.But what I appreciated most about Chloe this morning wasn't her striking bone structure or her effortless poise; it was the specific, high-gloss set of pale pink nails she wore.I had personally requested she get that exact shade before her flight touched down.I smiled, a cold expression, as I brushed my thumb over her knuckles. I didn't love Chloe. I didn't love anyone. But I did love a well-executed variable. Delia