My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 52

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Since when do I answer to you?

Delia’s POV

The smell of that perfume that was on Julian yesterday had been haunting me since the moment Julian stepped into the kitchen last night. When he hugged me, that brief performance of affection for my parents, the scent had clung to his coat like a confession. It was floral with an expensive, metallic edge that smelled like power and secrets. I knew that scent. I had smelled it before, but every time I tried to place it, the memory slipped through my fingers like silk.

Julian didn’t let me get close. He lived in the West Wing behind biometric locks and cold glares, only playing the role of the doting husband when Mom and Dad were watching or on the rare occasion the senior Windsors deigned to visit. To him, I was a piece of furniture that occasionally spoke.

I sat in my car, my hands white–knuckled on the steering wheel. I was going to drive forty–five minutes to Brooklyn. I told myself I was going to see my sister. I told myself I needed to talk to Katia about the I* Technologies integration as if I knew shit about business. But the truth was darker: Katia always smelled like that. Or did the? I needed to be sure. I needed to know if my husband was carrying my sister’s scent or if I was simply losing my mind.

But as I pulled into the valet circle of a high–end bistro halfway to my destination, my heart stopped.

There was Julian’s car.

T

He was supposed to be in board meetings. He was supposed to be “saving the empire.” Instead, he was stepping out of the restaurant, and he wasn’t alone.

My breath hitched as I saw her. It was the same woman from the photos in Vegas. The same one who had stood beside him at the tracks. The same one who had looked me up and down at the gala with eyes full of pity and called me a “charming little accessory.”

Seraphina.

She was tall and lean and radiated a predatory elegance that I could never replicate. She was wearing a dress that cost more than the car my parents bought for me when I was still their little princess, and as she leaned in to whisper something into Julian’s ear, he didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. He listened with an intensity he had never once granted me.

I climbed out of my car, my vision tunneling. I didn’t care about the scene I was about to make. I walked toward them, my heels clicking like gunfire against the pavement.

“Julian?”

They both turned. Julian’s face didn’t register guilt; it didn’t register anything. He just adjusted his cufflink and looked at me as if I were a telemarketer interrupting his lunch.

“Delia,” he said, his voice a flat, bored drawl. “I thought you were spending the day with your mother.”

“I was going to see Katia,” I stammered, my confidence wilting under his freezing gaze. “I… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Seraphina stepped forward, a slow, cruel smirk spreading across her red–painted lips. She didn’t move away from Julian; she moved closer, her silk sleeve brushing against his arm. And then, the wind shifted.

The scent hit me like a physical blow; it was the perfume. The exact same jasmine and metallic floral notes had been on Julian’s skin last night. It wasn’t Katia. It was her, again.

“Oh, the little wife,” Seraphina purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “How lovely to see you out of the house. Julian was just telling me how quiet the estate has been lately.”

She leaned in closer to me, intentionally invading my space so that I was submerged in her fragrance. “You look tired, darling. Is the marriage not agreeing with you?”

I looked at Julian, waiting for him to defend me, to tell her to back off, to explain why he was having lunch with a supermodel

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while he told me he was working. He did none of those things. He simply watched the interaction with the detached curiosity of a scientist watching two insects fight in a jar.

“We were just finishing, Julian said, checking his watch. “Seraphina has a flight to catch, and I have a meeting at the bank. ”

“A meeting?” I found my voice, though it sounded shrill and pathetic even to my own ears. “You smelled like her last night, Julian. When you came home. You were with her.”

Julian’s eyes darkened, the performative warmth from last night vanishing as if it had never existed. A flash of genuine, razor- sharp irritation broke through his mask, turning his gaze into two chips of black ice.

“Since when do I answer to you, Delia?” he asked, his voice low and devoid of any erotion. It wasn’t a question, it was a reminder of my place in his hierarchy. “I don’t recall our marriage certificate including a GPS tracker or a daily interrogation. If I am at the office, I am working. If my clothes carry a scent, it’s because I’ve been in a room with people who have more purpose than standing in parking lots, waiting for an explanation. Know your place, Delia.”

The coldness of his words felt like a physical slap, leaving me breathless. I realized in that moment that I could never ask him another question about his whereabouts, not if I wanted to keep the shredded remains of my dignity.

“It’s a very distinctive scent, isn’t it?” Seraphina added, smoothing her hair with a slow, deliberate grace. “Custom made. Only a few people in the world have it. It tends to… linger. Especially on people who stay close.”

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