My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 168

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Do you want me to be your husband?

-Katia-

I did not tell Sam where I was going because I know me telling her would make this whole thing look unprofessional, which, of course, it was unprofessional because Thave been seeing my sister’s husband’s dick for the past year and I wanted him to fuck me, fuck me like he meant it and probably forget about Delia.

Hell, I didn’t like this version of me. Trying to snatch my sister’s husband because apparently he had a good dick!

Argh, fuck Katia! Focus!

I did not schedule anything or prepare anything or think through what I was going to say before I said it. I just got in the car at six forty–five PM and drove to the WEG building and took the elevator to Julian’s floor and walked past his assistant, who looked up and started to say something, and I said, “It’s fine” and kept walking.

His office door was open.

–

not dramatic, just the slight adjustment of a He was at his desk. He looked up when I walked in, and the surprise was genuine – man who had not expected this particular visitor at this particular hour. He said nothing immediately. He just looked at me.

I closed the door behind me.

I sat down across from his desk and put my bag on the floor and looked at him and tried to find a place to start.

taken it out of the box, held it, and put it The ring was on my left hand. I had put it on this morning without fully deciding to – on. I did not know why I had worn it today. I was wearing it, and I had worn it here, and he could see it, and I was not going to take it off or explain it.

“I have a question,” I said.

He leaned back in his chair. His expression had shifted – the warmth that was usually present when we were in the same room had been replaced by something cooler. More controlled. The professional version of him, the one he used with people he was not sure about.

“Ask,” he said.

the jaw, the line of him, the way he sat. And the I looked at him. At his face. At the things I had been looking at for over a year fucking way his dick makes me feel so good without even fucking entering my fucking wall!

Hell, what is wrong with me today!

“Have you ever been to Las Vegas?” I said. “Seven years ago. Around that time.”

Something moved in his expression. Almost nothing. But I had been watching this man’s face for long enough to catch the things that were almost nothing.

“Why?” he said.

“I went to Vegas seven years ago,” I said. “Something happened there. Something I don’t fully remember.” I paused. “I came back with a son nine months later and this fucking ring.”

Julian said nothing

“He looks like you,” I said. “Not a little. Not a passing resemblance. He looks exactly like you, and he has looked exactly like you since he was born, and I have spent six years looking at my son’s face and wondering.” I held his gaze. “So I am asking you. Have you ever been to Vegas, Julian?”

Julian looked at me for a long moment.

“Katia,” he said. His voice was measured. Entirely controlled. “I don’t know anything about Vegas.”

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Do you want am to be your husba

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“You don’t know

“What happened to you in Vegas is not something I have any knowledge of,” he said. “And the fact that Aiden resembles me is a coincidence. It happens. People look like other people.”

I stared at him.

“A coincidence,” I said.

“Yes.”

“You think my son looking exactly like you is a coincidence.”

“I think,” he said carefully, “that you are looking for an answer to something that has been troubling you for a long time, and you have decided I might be it.” He paused. “That is understandable. But I cannot be responsible for something I have no knowledge of.”

I sat with that.

I sat with the cold, measured delivery of it. The professional distance. The version of Julian Windsor that I had not seen directed at me in months – since before France, since before Dubai, and since before the car park and the server room and the waffles.

This was not that Julian.

This Julian was looking at me the way he might look at a contract he had decided not to sign.

I did not know what to do with that.

“The ring,” I said. I did not know why I said it. I looked at my left hand. “This ring. Someone gave it to me that night in Vegas. Someone I don’t remember. I have been carrying it for almost fucking 7 years, and I cannot find any record of it anywhere, and the man who gave it to me has no name and no face and no-

“Katia.” His voice was quiet. Cut through everything.

I stopped.

He looked at me across the desk. At my hand. At the ring.

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Something moved across his face there and gone, too fast to read. Then the controlled expression was back.

“Do you want me to be your husband?” he said.

The question landed in the room like something dropped from a height.

I looked at him.

His face was giving me nothing. Absolutely nothing. The question had been asked in the same measured, professional tone as everything else he had said in the last ten minutes, and it sat between us with the weight of something that was not a simple question at all.

I did not answer it.

I could not answer it.

I picked up my bag from the floor. I stood up.

“Goodnight, Julian,” I said.

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