Tm not do win our conversations from Veg
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I’m not done with our conversation from Vegas
Katia’s POV
The hum of the motorbike was still vibrating in my bones as I stepped into my apartment long after midnight. I moved through the dark rooms like a thief, peeling off the heavy leathers that smelled of adrenaline and burtit rubber. I checked on Aiden, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest for a long moment. He was my reality. He was the anchor that kept me from drifting off into the chaotic, dark sea of my own impulses. Everything else, the boardrooms, the high–speed racing, and the forbidden heat of Julian Windsor, felt like a fever dream couldn’t wake up from.
The next morning, the “weight lifted” feeling I’d had after talking to Gail was replaced by a sold dread. I had a brunch scheduled at the Kensington estate. A family gathering. It was the kind of performance I hated most, one where I had to look Delia in the eye while knowing her husband had pinned me against a wall in Vegas and kissed me until I forgot my own name,
I dressed carefully, choosing a high–necked, conservative cream silk blouse and tailored trousers. I needed to look like the professional, “disgraced–but–reformed” sister. I needed a mask as thick as my racing visor to keep any trace of the night before from leaking out.
When I arrived at the estate, the sun was shining mockingly bright over the manicured lawns. I found Delia in the garden, looking every bit the Windsor wife in a floral sundress, sipping tea as if her life were a catalog advertisement.
“Katia! You actually came,” Delia said, offering a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She gestured to the chair across from her. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. Between your company and Julian’s schedules, I’m starting to think you two are conspiring to keep me lonely.”
The words felt like a slap. I sat down, my hands steady only because I forced them into my lap. “The contract implementation is entering a critical phase, Delia. There’s a lot of logistical work to move when you’re integrating I*‘s systems into the Windsor infrastructure.”
“Is that what it is? Logistics?” Delia sighed, staring off at the roses. “Because Julian has been… different lately. Ever since he got back from Vegas, he’s been distracted. He’s hardly been home, and when he is, he’s locked in his study. I swear, sometimes I think he cares more about your project than his own wife.”
I felt the prickle of guilt and was uncomfortable. “Maybe he’s just a perfectionist. He’s paying I* Technologies a lot of money to revolutionize
security systems. He doesn’t like loose ends.”
“I suppose,” she murmured, her gaze turning sharp. “But it’s not just the business. I went into his study this morning to ask about dinner, and he was staring at some grainy security footage from a racetrack. Can you imagine? My husband, the man who thinks anything without a three–piece suit is ‘uncultured,‘ spent his morning watching motorbikes. I asked him what was so interesting, and he just told me he was looking for a ‘variable‘ he missed.”
My blood ran cold. Footage. He was looking for me. Not Katia Kensington, but the woman on the bike. He was hunting a ghost in a helmet while the woman he really wanted was sitting right in front of him. I felt a sudden, desperate urge to check my gear to make sure I hadn’t left a single trace of myself on that track.
“Maybe he just needs a hobby,” I managed to say, my voice sounding hollow. “The pressure of the Windsor Empire’s expansion is enough to make anyone seek a distraction.”
**
“Maybe,” Delia said, her voice dropping an octave. “Or maybe he’s looking for something he lost. You know how Julian is, Katia. He has this… possessive streak. If something catches his eye and he can’t have it, he becomes obsessed until he breaks it.
I watched her, wondering if she knew. Wondering if Gail was right that Julian hadn’t touched her. She looked perfect, but there was an emptiness in her expression that made me wonder if her marriage was nothing more than a beautiful, gilded cage.
“Is everything okay between you two?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. “You seem… tense.”
Delia laughed, a brittle, porcelain sound. “We’re the Windsors, Katia. Tension is our primary language. But don’t worry your head about it. He’ll be joining us for brunch in a moment. He said he had ‘specific business‘ to discuss with you regarding the contract before the meeting on Monday. Something about the New York implementation.”
versoripey from Vagos
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My heart did a slow, painful roll in my chest. I wasn’t ready to see hitn. Not here, with my sister sitting three feet away. I wanted to stand up and run, but before I could move, the glass doors opened.
Julian stepped out onto the patio.
He looked impeccable in a charcoal suit, the very image of power. But the moment his eyes landed on me, the air in the garden seemed to vanish. The “client” mask was firmly in place, but beneath it, I saw the man from the Vegas hallway. And most terrifyingly, I saw the man who had spent his morning watching a black bike disappear into the night.
“Katia,” he said, his voice a low, smooth caress. He didn’t look at Delia or even greet her or give her a kiss, he walked straight to the table and pulled out the chair next to mine. “I didn’t think you’d make it. It seems we both had a very long night.”
“I was catching up on I*‘s reports,” I said quickly.
“As was I,” Julian replied, his eyes locked onto mine. “I was reviewing some interesting footage from the Manhattan circuit. It seems there’s a new talent in the city. Someone very fast. Very… elusive.”
Delia leaned forward, oblivious. “I was just telling her about that, Julian. Since when do you care about bikers?”
Julian finally turned to his wife, though his expression remained cold. “It’s because you don’t know anything about me. I care about anything that moves that quickly, Delia. It’s a rare trait. Most people hesitate. This rider… she didn’t hesitate for a second. It was almost as if she were running away from something.”
He turned back to me, leaning in just enough that I could smell his cologne. “Don’t you agree, Katia? That some people are just born to run?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I whispered, my heart hammering. “I prefer to keep my business on solid ground.”
“Is that so?” Julian’s smirk was tiny, almost invisible. “Then we’ll have to see how well you handle the pace of our next meeting. There are some details in the 1* contract I think you’ve been trying to avoid.”
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