My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 21

on’t come to my wedding

Katia’s POV

Monday mornings were usually my favorite. There was something clean about them, fresh calendars, quiet hallways, and the sense that the world hadn’t yet had time to complicate itself. I liked arriving early and liked the hum of the building before it filled with voices and demands. I* Technologies felt most like mine in those hours.

Sam was already seated across from me, tablet open, stylus tapping lightly as she scrolled through projections.

“If we stagger the rollout,” she said, “WEG gets their Al logistics upgrade in phases. Hotels first, then resorts, then sports venues. It reduces disruption and gives us leverage if they try to renegotiate.”

I nodded, eyes on the screen in front of me. “And it gives us time to test live environments without burning goodwill.”

“Exactly.”

We were in sync like that; years of building from nothing had done that to us. Sam didn’t need to overexplain, and I didn’t need to micromanage. Trust was a currency we’d earned the hard way.

She glanced up. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet since the engagement party.”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

She didn’t call me out on the lie. She just nodded and went back to the numbers.

My phone buzzed, and I ignored it; then it buzzed again.

Sam looked up this time. “You want to take that?”

I sighed and reached for the phone. Delia’s name glowed on the screen.

I answered. “Delia.”

“I’m outside,” she said without preamble.

I blinked. “Outside where?”

“Your building. I* Technologies. Can we talk?”

I closed my eyes briefly. For a split second, I considered telling her I was busy, that I had meetings stacked until evening, that this wasn’t a good time. All of that was true.

But avoiding things had never made them go away.

“Give me five minutes,” I said. “We’ll grab lunch.”

Sam arched a brow when I hung up.

“She’s here?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You want me to stay?”

“No,” I said, standing. “Let’s pause the WEG strategy. I’ll deal with this, and we’ll pick it up after.”

I rode the elevator down alone, the familiar tension settling between my shoulders. When the doors opened, Delia was standing near the reception desk, perfectly put together as always in a tailored blazer, soft makeup, and eyes sharp with something I couldn’t quite place.

Concern? Suspicion? Or maybe possession?

“Hey,” she said, forcing a smile.

+25 Bonus

“Hey,” I replied evenly. “Let’s eat.”

We walked to a nearby restaurant, quiet, upscale, and on neutral ground. A place I’d been a hundred times with clients and never once with family. The hostess seated us near the window, sunlight pouring in, bright and unforgiving.

I ordered without looking at the menu. Delia followed suit, copying my choice like she always used to when we were younger.

Old habits.

While we waited, she spoke. “You seem to know a lot about the Windsors,” she said finally.

I took a sip of water. “Do I?”

1. on.

1. me.

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