My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 42

I just kissat my sister’s husband

Katia’s POV

The adrenaline was still humming in my veins, a low frequency vibration that made the neon lights of the Las Vegas Strip look like streaks of wet paint against a black canvas. I wasn’t as devastated by the inss as I thought I’d be. Honestly, it was a relief, a terrifying, electric relief, to know there was still someone out there who could push me to the very edge of my capabilities. For years, I had been the ghost that haunted the track, the one no one could catch. Tonight, I was caught. And the feeling of being hunted was far more intoxicating than the feeling of winning.

“Girl, we should definitely go out,” Sam said, leaning against the mahogany doorframe of our hotel suite as she watched me peel off my racing gear. Her eyes were bright, reflecting the restless energy of the city outside. “You haven’t lost in a very long time, and you lose to some anonymous guy in a helmet? You need a drink to mourn your undefeated streak before you let it get in your head.”

Sam.

I laughed, tossing my damp hair over my shoulder. The physical exertion had left me spent but wired. “It was a good race, A great one, actually. I feel more alive than I have in months. Losing keeps you hungry, and I’ve been full for way too long. I needed that reality check.”

“Well, I’m hungry for a cocktail and a bass drop,” she countered, tossing a garment bag onto the bed. “Dress up. We’re going out. No more ‘Catwoman‘ for the night. I want the Katia who owns half of Brooklyn to show Vegas how it’s done.”

I didn’t argue. I reached for a dress that was the antithesis of a flame–retardant racing suit, a silk, emerald–green slip dress that clung to every curve like a second skin and left very little to the imagination. I stepped into a pair of black stilettos that added four inches to my height and a dangerous edge to my stride. I swiped on a dark, wine–colored lip, and for the first time in six years, I didn’t feel like a CEO, a fugitive from my family, or even a mother. I felt like a woman with a pulse.

When we walked into the club, the bass was a physical weight in the air, a thumping that vibrated through the floorboards and settled in my chest. It was the kind of place where the music is loud enough to drown out your own thoughts, which was exactly what I needed. I didn’t want to think about the race, and I certainly didn’t want to think about the man who had beaten me.

We moved toward the VIP lounge, the velvet ropes parting for Sam as she flashed her “don’t even try it” look at the bouncer. But as we approached the bar, the air suddenly felt thinner, colder, and far more familiar than it had any right to be.

I stopped dead. There, sitting at a corner booth with a glass of amber liquid in his hand, was Julian Windsor.

He wasn’t in a suit. He had dressed down, but even in a casual shirt, he looked like he owned the building and the land it sat on He didn’t look surprised to see me; he looked amused, as if he had been waiting for me to arrive.

“Katia,” he said, his voice cutting through the thumping bass with a terrifying, low–frequency ease. “It seems like you like to

୮ follow me around. First New York, then France, now the desert? You’re becoming a habit.”

I opened my mouth to snap back, to tell him that Vegas was big enough for both of us and that I had been coming here long before he decided to drop by, but Sam was faster. She stepped forward, her hand on her hip, looking him dead in the eye with the fierce loyalty I loved her for.

“I’d say you follow Katia around, actually,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “First France, and now, all of a sudden, you’re in Vegas? That’s a very specific itinerary, Julian. Are you stalking my best friend, or do you just have a compass that points toward trouble?”

Before Julian could respond, Zane stood up. He had a lazy, charming grin that suggested he found the entire situation hilarious, a stark contrast to Julian’s brooding intensity. “You’re Samantha, right?” Zane asked, his eyes dancing with interest.

Sam blinked, her defensive posture softening by a fraction. “Yes. How do you know that?”

“Saw you at the office the day you came for the presentation with your boss, or should I say best friend?” Zane said, stepping into the space between us, effectively breaking the tension. “How about we just enjoy the night without thinking about Brooklyn and Manhattan for once? The drinks are cold, the music is good, and we’re all a long way from the office. Let’s call a

1/2

When I stepped back out into the dimly lit hallway, the shadows seemed to shift. Before I could even register the movement, a figure loomed over me, pinning me back against the wall. The impact wasn’t violent, but it was firm, trapping me between the cold plaster and a wall of pure heat.

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