My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 278

The Poisoned Seduction

-Julian-

The front doors of my city mansion closed behind me with a heavy, hollow thud.

I pulled off my overcoat and handed it to the waiting houseman, my mind still racing with the fallout of the London telemetry logistics. My knuckles, wrapped in fresh medical tape, were stiff and aching. I wanted nothing more than to clear the remaini administrative wreckage, make the long drive upstate to the family estate, and pull my wife’s soft, warm body against mine until the static in my head finally went quiet.

But as I stepped into the gallery, the scent of heavy, suffocating floral perfume hit my nose.

I looked toward the formal dining room of my wing. The overhead chandelier was dark, replaced instead by the weak, flickeri glow of a dozen tapered candles. The dark mahogany of the table was scattered with red rose petals.

And sitting at the head of it, watching my approach with a desperate intensity, was Delia.

An immediate, sharp wave of annoyance tightened my chest. The sight of the candles and the petals didn’t make my heart soften; it made my jaw clench until my teeth ached. The only person in this world who should be lighting candles for me in thi house is my wife. The only woman whose welcome I cared to receive was currently safe miles away upstate, sleeping soundly under my grandmother’s roof with our son, completely unaware of the dangers I was navigating to keep them both protected.

I walked toward the table, my boots clicking heavily against the stone floor, my face settled into a frozen, unreadable wall of

slate.

Delia stood up.

In the dim, shifting candlelight, the sheer fabric of her dress was entirely laid bare. She had worn it intentionally. The black lac of her bra was fully visible, and beneath the sheer midnight fabric over her hips, the thin string of a black thong was completel exposed. She shifted her weight, turning her body just a fraction of an inch so the curve of her bare ass caught the light.

I looked away.

The display didn’t arouse me; it disgusted me. I pulled out the heavy leather chair across from her and sat down, refusing to accept the crystal glass of red wine she was already holding out to me.

“What are you wearing?” I asked, my voice dropping to a low, warning register that was completely devoid of warmth.

Delia smiled. It was a wide, innocent, and entirely rehearsed smile, but I knew her too well. I had lived under the same roof with her for five years, and I knew the exact shape of her malice. Delia was the type of woman who would do absolutely anything to be a real Mrs. Windsor–or even just to get me to fuck her. She was a desperate woman.

And I hated desperate women.

“A dress,” she said softly, her voice carrying an artificial sweetness that made my stomach turn

She held the glass of wine out to me again, her fingers brushing against mine This time, I took if I needed something to wash the taste of the day out of my mouths I raised the crystal to my lips and took a slow, deliberate sip

The wine hit the back of my throat, and I immediately frownted

It tasted wrong Under the heavy, dark red fruit of the vintage, there was a metallic, chemically sweet undertone that didn’t belong. I set the glass down with a sharp click against the wood

“You wanted to talk,” I said, leaning back in my chair, my hands resting Hat on the table “I’m here”

“Let’s eat first,” Delia murmured, gesturing to the covered platters between us “We can talk over dinner

“Woman,” I growled, my voice dropping to a freezing whisper that made the housemand dear the sideboard distantly step back “I did not leave my fully packed schedule to come and eat dinner with you What do you want

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I had never been warm around her. I had never given her a single fräine of hope to believe that our arrangement was anything more than a legal transaction.

Delia’s smile faltered, just for a fraction of a second, before she forced it back into place. “Um… us. We have never had a real conversation, Julian.”

“What is there to talk about?” I asked, my eyes narrowing into cold, lethal slits as I looked at her sheer dress. “You are an arrangement, Delia. You are not my wife. You are just there for appearances. Or are you starting to have ideas?”

She took a long time to respond, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass as she absorbed the impact of the rejection.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” she said quietly.

She raised her glass, taking a slow sip of her wine. To keep the compliance in the room, I picked up mine and did the same, taking another swallow.

The metallic taste was stronger this time, coating the back of my tongue like oil. It was wrong. It was very, very wrong.

“Well, since you have nothing to talk about, I’m going to leave,” I said, pushing my chair back.

I started to stand up.

But the moment my weight shifted, my thighs went entirely numb. My knees buckled slightly, a sudden, violent wave of dizziness washing over my brain, making the candlelight spin into a blurred, golden streak. My legs were failing me.

The realization hit my stomach like concrete.

She drugged the wine.

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