Novel & Cerita Julia London Author

Luca said quietly, his eyes searching her profile. "I don't need to ask," Julia said, not looking at him. "If I ask, you will lie. If you lie, I have to kill you to keep my daughters safe. Right now, you are more useful to me alive." Luca let out a short, dry breath that sounded almost like a laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You really are ruthless, aren't you?" "I had a good teacher. My husband spent years pretending to love me while building a life with another woman and a secret son," Julia said, finally turning to look him dead in the eyes. "I will never trust a Romano again, Luca. Not Anthony. And certainly not you."

It feels too soon to be falling for him so quickly, doesn’t it? Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I jump out of my reverie. “He is good with the kids,” Julia says as she stands close to me with her hands folded on her chest. “Yes, he is.” When I first met Julia, I thought she was too hard and solemn to care for these children. However, through the years of working with her, I’ve come to realize that her tough exterior hides a heart as soft as a mushroom. She’s a kind-hearted woman who lost her husband to war. At 48 years old, with her lean body, bronze skin, and dark eyes, she’s a beauty.

If she continued this way, she would be like the other who dared rugger and didn't end well. Meanwhile, Julia didn't care and flung her shoes away crashing on her secret bed in her office. As she lay in the uncomfortable gown thinking of a plan to get rid of Juliet and rugger, her phone beeped. Irritated by the disturbance, she picked it up and glanced casually at it and dropped it.

Julian stood by the window, watching the city come to life. Below, the red buses rumbled toward the city center, and the early morning joggers paced themselves against the chill. He felt a hand on his back—a warm, grounding presence. "You’re thinking again," Elara whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I can tell by the way you’re holding your mug. You only grip it that tight when you're calculating something." Julian turned, offering her a small, weary smile. "I'm just thinking about the East End project. And Sarah’s notes. She wants the flyers to be even more 'approachable.' It’s a challenge to make luxury feel like it belongs to the neighborhood."

************ CHAPTER TWO. ************ BRINLEY. "Wake up." I groan and roll over, pulling the blanket over my head. Talk about having a hard time sleeping in a new place that you can't even explore? And What the hell is the deal with keeping us blindfolded? Pulling myself up, I glanced around the small room and then noticed a small figure sitting on the other bed. I sighed. It's just Julia. Julia is a stunning girl of small stature but maybe two inches taller than me. She has Carmel skin, wavy bright red hair that came to the edge of her shoulders, and dark blue eyes. She was stunning.

Managing her dress properly, she opened the door and got out of the car first. She didn’t loiter with them, knowing they would get some way to manage Joshua, so Julia walked on her barefoot because she hadn’t been warned before getting kidnapped. Now, the way to her room was on the shoeless. Julia reached the room and went to the bathroom. She walked up to the mirror and looked at her reflection, feeling tired, but today somewhere she felt very light having regained her identity. She was Julia Rutten, the only daughter of Mark Rutten. She had to go farther and would have to take dangerous steps.

I wanted to say something but I couldn’t get any words out. “Mom, she needs to eat. She hasn’t eaten since I found her. the only thing in her stomach is the vitamins that Helen has been injecting in her.” Hillan once again came to my rescue. I bowed in greeting as Hillan pulled me with him. we paused Julia who was seated in front of her laptop and typing away. I wonder what kind of job she does. “She is a writer. She writes the steamiest romance books,”

– all filtered through layers of ad blockers and private browsing. Julian was a titan, a force of nature disguised in Savile Row suits. He was ruthless, calculating, and seemingly immune to the sentimental traps that ensnared lesser men. He donated generously to the arts, a fact that both intrigued and disgusted Liam. It felt… calculated. Liam imagined Julian writing a check, not out of genuine altruism, but as a strategic move to improve his public image.

Becomes the face of the man who gutted Richard Lord in a boardroom without raising his voice. "Victor Strand," he says. "He's reaching for you directly." "What does he mean? What does he know?" Julian takes the phone from my hand and sets it face down on the side table. His eyes are gray and frozen and absolutely lethal. "It means he's done hiding. And so are we." He pulls me to my feet. His hand wraps around mine. And we walk out of the library together, leaving the Rilke book open to the page where Impossible has been crossed out and Keep Going gleams fresh.

He let go of her hair and walked around her, circling her like a predator examining a trapped animal. "I've been in London for five years," Julian continued, his voice echoing off the book-lined walls. "I stayed away because I couldn't stand the sight of my father’s greed. But then I get a call. He’s in a coma. And he’s married to a girl young enough to be his granddaughter. A girl from the Vance family—a family of bankrupt liars." He stopped in front of her again. "My father’s lawyers want to throw you out on the street. They want to call the police and have you investigated for elder abuse. For murder."