My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 290

London extension

-Jude

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass of the hotel suite and stared down at the sprawling, grid-locked veins of Manhattan. F here, the world looked organized, clean, and entirely under control. It was a lie, of course. My entire life, my entire presence this city, and the very foundation of my claim to Katia Kensington were built on a precarious pile of falsehoods.

Julian Windsor was the wild card in that pile.

He was going to be a problem. That was the only thing I was certain of. I knew the game I was playing, Katia was mine, even the marriage certificate was a work of fiction, even if the history I claimed with her was something I had manufactured to br the gap between where she was and where I wanted her to be. She was the prize, and I had invested too much to let her slip through my fingers.

But Windsor? Windsor was something else entirely.

Technically, he was her brother-in-law. That was the narrative. But the way he looked at her-the way he protected her, the way he moved through a room as if he owned the very air she breathed — it didn’t fit the category of an in-law. It was possess Territorial. It was the look of a man who didn’t just want to keep her safe but wanted to keep her contained.

The last time we had met, he had rearranged my jaw. He had beaten the arrogance right out of my face because I had touched her. And then, he had threatened me with a cold, terrifying tone when I had the audacity to mention her son. He hadn’t acted like a brother-in-law then. He had acted like a husband or father.

A thought clawed at the back of my mind, sharp and insistent: Could it be? Could Windsor actually know? Did he see through t forgery, the lies, and the carefully constructed identity I was projecting?

I shook my head, my jaw aching at the memory. No, I doubted it. If he knew I was a fraud, he wouldn’t be playing games. He would have erased me. He was that kind of man.

A sharp knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

I went rigid. My pulse thudded against my throat. I walked to the door, my hand hovering over the handle, bracing myself for the impact of a fist or the barrel of a gun. I took a breath, trying to summon the composure of a man who had nothing to hide, and pulled the door open.

Julian Windsor stood there.

He was perfectly tailored, his dark suit absorbing the light of the hallway, his face unreadable. He looked like an aristocrat who had stepped out of a portrait, yet I could still feel the phantom pain of his knuckles against my bore.

“Jude.” His greeting was smooth, devoid of the jagged edge Lexpected.

I took a half-step back, my instincts screaming at me to keep my distance, to watch his kands, to ensure he didn’t repeat the lesson he had taught me the other day. He better not beat the shit out of me again, I thought, my mind racing through exit strategies.

“Windsor,” I replied, my voice steady, though my stomach was a knot of tension. I held the door open, gesturing toward the interior of the suite, “Come ip.”

He walked past me, bis presence filling the room with an undeniable, heavy gravity. He didn’t look at the decor; he looked at the space as if he were measuring its tactical advantages.

“I am so sorry for the misunderstanding yesterday,” he said, turning to face me. His tone was contrite, professional, almost warm. It was a mask, I realized. A perfectly crafted, expensive mask. “It seems like I took her because I thought you wanted to abuse her again, but my sister-in-law had explained that you had apologized for your actions. I am so sorry again.”

I stared at him for a second, bewildered. He was apologizing? The man who had pulverized my tace was standing in my suite, talking about misunderstandings and apologies?

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I forced a smile, though it felt tight against my healing skin. “It’s okay,” I said, keeping my tone light. “It’s a good thing that you look after your sister-in-law. I just found that the Kensington family wasn’t blessed with a son; they are blessed to have you.

He smiled back, a calm, practiced expression that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ms. Kensington is my sister-in-law and my business partner. We work closely together, mostly on our London extension. She will brief you about it as we travel and attend meetings together. Once again. I am so sorry, I will take my leave.”

He turned on his heel, moving with a fluid, predatory grace toward the door. He was leaving. He was actually leaving, having delivered his scripted apology and his subtle reminder of his connection to her.

Something about the way he said “London extensions” was wrong with me. It was too rehearsed. Too smooth.

“Windsor.”

He stopped with his hand on the doorframe. He didn’t turn around immediately, and in that split second, I felt the sheer power radiating from his back. He turned slowly, his face composed, his eyes dark and bottomless.

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