My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 30

The French Pursuit

Julian’s POV

I don’t chase people. I have teams of professionals to do the chasing while I remain the stationary sun around which the Windsor Empire orbits. Yet, less than twenty–four hours after the “wedding of the year,” I was stepping off my private jet in

Nice.

The data Marcus provided was enough. Katia hadn’t been hiding, she simply wasn’t making herself easy to find. I tracked her to a small, discreet restaurant tucked away in a cobblestone alley in Antibes. It was the kind of place that didn’t take reservations unless they knew your lineage.

When I saw her, the air in my lungs felt tight. She was alone at a corner table, a glass of red wine in her hand, looking out at the sunset over the water. She looked like a woman who didn’t have a care in the world–certainly not a woman whose sister had just married into the most powerful family in the country.

“Ms. Kensington. It’s fancy seeing you here,” I said, my voice smooth as if our meeting were a mere coincidence and not the result of a cross–continental manhunt.

Katia looked up, her brows arching in genuine surprise. “Oh my. Julian?” She set her glass down, her eyes scanning me with a mixture of amusement and confusion. “What are you doing here? Wasn’t it supposed to be your wedding yesterday?”

3

I didn’t answer. I simply pulled out the chair opposite her, my gaze locked on hers.

“And it’s supposed to be your honeymoon today,” she continued, looking around the restaurant as if expecting to see a trail of white dress and a frantic Delia behind me. “Where is Delia?”

I felt a flicker of boredom at the mention of the name. Delia was a ghost in my house; I hadn’t come to France to talk about the woman I’d left in the East Wing.

“Are you not supposed to be asking me how I am? And if I’m okay?” I asked, leaning forward. My voice was low. I wanted her to stop looking for my wife and start looking at me.

She blinked, then let out a soft laugh. “Oh, sorry. How are you, Mr. Windsor? I just came here to grab some dinner.”

“Please, call me Julian.” I say and then continue, “Well, I came here to do the same,” I said, gesturing to the seat. “I can sit, right?”

She signaled for me to stay, her eyes never leaving mine. “So, how was your wedding?”

The wedding again. The internal machine that governed my patience began to glitch. “The wedding again?” I repeated, my tone dropping an octave. I decided to change the game. I looked at her, letting the coldness melt into the charm I usually reserved for high–stakes negotiations. “Why don’t you ask me about me? Or better yet… why didn’t you come?”

Katia leaned back, unfazed by my intensity. “Well, Aiden and I had plans. And Mr. Windsor, if you haven’t noticed, my family and I aren’t exactly close.”

“That, I noticed long ago,” I replied. I thought of the engagement party and the way the Kensingtons had looked like they’d seen a ghost when Gail spoke of Harvard. “They don’t want the world to know, but when Gail mentioned she went to Harvard with you, they were all surprised. It suggested they didn’t know much about you at all.”

“They don’t,” she said simply.

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