My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 223

You Were Mev My Type

You Were Never My Type

Julian

+25 BONUS

She was eating when I came back downstairs.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a plate in front of her, having the composure of someone who had decided that eating was the correct response to having just sat through that sitting room. The Kensingtons had gone. Grandma and Gail had taken Aiden somewhere in the house. It was just Delia and the plate and the kitchen and me.

I pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

She looked up and I looked at her.

“Before we started this arrangement,” I said, “do you remember what I told you?”

She said nothing.

“I told you I was already married,” I said. “I told you I could never touch you. I told you that you could sleep with whoever you wanted because I was not going to be that person for you.” I held her gaze. “Do you remember that conyersation?”

She looked at her plate.

“Did I lie to you?” I said. “Did I promise you something I might have forgotten about? Did I say something that led you to believe this was going to become something different?”

Delia shook her head. Slowly. The movement of someone who was answering honestly despite themselves.

“I just want us to be normal,” she said. Her voice was quiet.

I looked at her.

“Normal,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “Just normal. Like a real-

“Delia.” I kept my voice even. “I was not lying when I told you I would never touch you. I was also not lying when I told you that you were not my type.” I paused. “Do you think Julian Windsor is going to sleep with a woman who has been sleeping with Victor Hale? Do you understand what I am telling you when I say you are not my type?” I looked at her directly. “Looking at you does not make my dick peck. I told you that from the beginning. I told you I was married and I could only have one wife, and that wife was not going to be you.”

Delia’s jaw tightened.

“Then give me a chance,” she said. “Julian. Give us a chance. I can-”

“Delia.”

“I can be what you need, I can-”

“Delia.”

She stopped.

I let the silence sit for a moment.

୮

“You have been in my house,” I said. “For a year and some months you have been going through my study. My laptop. My files. You have been looking for the name of my wife since the day you moved in.” I tilted my head slightly. “Have I ever gone through your room? Have I ever looked through your things?”

She looked at the table.

You Were Nest My Typa

“Have 1?” I said.

She shook her head.

+25 BONUS

“You wanted to be Mrs. Windsor so badly,” I said, “that you decided I was joking when I told you the truth. That I was performing some kind of distance that you could eventually break through if you stayed long enough and tried hard enough.” I leaned forward slightly. “I was not joking. I have never joked with you about this. Not once.”

She was not looking at me.

“Let me say it again,” I said. “Clearly. So that the next time you arrange a family meeting in my grandmother’s house, you will remember that I said this.” I looked at her steadily. “You are not my type. I am married. I can be with whoever I choose to be

act appropriately, manage your own affairs, and stay out of mine. with as long as it is not you. Your job in this house is simple

If I hear about another family meeting-” I paused. “You are out. Do you understand me?”

She did not answer immediately.

“Do you understand?” I said again.

“Yes,” she said. Quietly.

I stood.

I walked out of the kitchen.

I was in the corridor when she called after me.

“You don’t come home.” Her voice was louder than it needed to be. The voice of someone who had decided they had nothing left to lose in the next ten seconds. “Are you always with her? Your wife?”

I stopped.

I had not planned to answer.

I turned.

“Yes,” I said. “I sleep where she sleeps. Every day.‘

I turned back and kept walking.

Delia’s POV

He was gone.

I stood in the kitchen doorway and listened to his footsteps on the stairs and then the sound of a door and then nothing, and the house was quiet, and I was standing in the kitchen in yesterday’s outfit with the remains of a breakfast I had been eating for comfort rather than hunger, and the echo of everything he had just said was sitting in the room like something physical.

You are not my type.

Looking at you does not make me want you.

I sleep where she sleeps. Every day.

I walked back to the table.

I looked at the plate.

I picked it up.

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