My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 54

The Gala trap

Julian’s POV

The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza was a gilded cage of the city’s elite, filled with the scent of lilies and the sharp, underlying hum of corporate greed. I stood on the mezzanine, my hand gripped tight around a glass of scotch. I didn’t care about the charity, and I certainly didn’t care about the accolades. My focus was entirely on the woman standing at the center of the room, currently surrounded by a swarm of tech investors and board members who looked at her as if she were the second coming of the digital age, Katia.

She was wearing a gown of midnight blue that fit her like a second skin, the fabric catching the light with every breath she took. She looked untouchable and professional, and yet, looking at her, all I could feel was the ghost of her weight against my desk and the memory of the way she had arched into me just days ago in my office. The “dry fuck” had left me on edge for a week, a lingering hunger that no amount of business or distance could satiate.

“The board is impressed,” Zane said, appearing at my shoulder. He didn’t look at me; he looked at Katia. “The I* Technologies demo was a masterclass in psychological warfare. You can see it in their faces; they’re terrified of her, but they want to own her.”

“They’ll never own her,” I said, my voice a low, gravelly rasp. “Katia Kensington doesn’t belong to a boardroom.”

“She doesn’t belong to you, either, Julian,” Zane reminded me, his voice dropping an octave. “Keep your eyes off her before Delia or David notices the way you’re tracking her movements. You’re supposed to be the devoted husband tonight, remember?”

I ignored him, my gaze never wavering. I watched the way she moved the sharp, predatory grace that made her stand out even in a room full of power players. She was currently explaining the “Invisible Shield” integration to a group of bankers, her hands moving with the warmth I could still feel against my skin.

I waited until the crowd around her thinned until the moment she stepped toward the edge of the ballroom for a breath of air. I moved with the speed of a hunter, intercepting her before she could reach the sanctuary of the terrace.

“A successful evening, Ms. Kensington,” I said, my voice vibrating in the small space between us.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look surprised. She simply turned her head, her dark eyes meeting mine with a defiance that sent a jolt of electricity straight to my cock. “Mr. Windsor. I didn’t think you were interested in the technicalities of the night. I thought you were too busy playing the part of the benefactor.”

“I’m always interested in the technicalities when they involve my investments,” I said, stepping closer, intentionally invading her personal space. The scent of her, that jasmine and metallic ozone, hit me like a physical blow, stripping away the mask of the cold CEO. “The demo was impressive. But then, you’ve always been good at putting on a show.”

Katia’s lips quirked into a dangerous smile. She didn’t back down; she leaned in, her shoulder brushing against mine. “Is that what you call what happened in your office, Julian? A show? Because if I recall correctly, you weren’t exactly acting like an investor then.”

The reminder hit me like a spark in a powder keg. I felt my jaw tighten, the heat of the ballroom suddenly becoming unbearable. “That was a lapse in judgment. One, I have no intention of repeating in a room full of people.”

“And yet, here you are,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to my mouth for a second before returning to mine. “Standing in the shadows with me, ignoring your wife, and looking at me like you want to tear this dress off my back. You’re a liar, Julian. You’re just as addicted to the friction as I am.”

“You think too much of yourself, Katia,” I growled, my hand finding the small of her back, the silk of her dress thin enough that I could feel the warmth of her skin beneath. “I brought you here to work. To prove that I* Technologies is the best. Anything else is just… extracurricular.”

“Extracurricular,” she repeated, a low, dark laugh escaping her throat. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Fine Then let’s get back to the curriculum. I have three more board members to charm and a contract to finalize. Unless, of course, you have another ‘emergency meeting‘ in mind?”

The challenge in her voice was a taunt I wasn’t ready to answer to. I could feel the eyes of the room on us, David was watching

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from across the floor, and Delia was currently hovering near the buffet, her eyes searching for me. The performance of the perfect marriage was falling apart, and the woman responsible was currently looking at me with a smirk that told me she knew exactly how much power she keld.

“Go,” I said, my voice strained. “Do your job, Katia. But don’t think for a second that this conversation is over.”

“It’s never over with you, is it?” she said, her voice a soft, lethal caress.

She turned and walked back into the light, her gait steady and confident. I stayed in the shadows for a moment longer, my heart thundering, the scent of her still clinging to me. I hated the way she could rattle me with a single sentence. I hated the way my body reacted to her presence before my mind could even process the threat.

I made my way toward Delia, my face returning to the mask of the cold, untouchable Julian Windsor. She looked up as I approached, her expression a mixture of relief and that same, desperate longing that I had come to loathe.

“There you are,” she said, her voice high and artificial. “Dad was asking about the merger. I told him you were busy with the tech team.”

“I was,” I said, my voice flat. I reached out and took her hand, a gesture of affection for the benefit of the cameras. Her skin was cold, a stark contrast to the heat I had just felt radiating off her sister. “I’m here now. Let’s finish the rounds.”

The rest of the night was a blur of forced smiles and empty conversations. I played the part, nodding at the right times and holding Delia’s hand with a grip that was more about control than comfort. But my eyes were constantly tracking Katia. I watched her charm the room, watched her navigate the politics of the gala with a skill that made me realize I had underestimated her. She wasn’t just a tech genius; she was a predator in a dress.

As the night began to wind down, I found myself standing near the bar, watching Katia say her goodbyes. She looked exhausted, but her eyes were still defiant. She caught my gaze across the room and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod–a silent acknowledgment of the war we were fighting.

“Julian? Are you ready to go?” Delia’s voice broke my focus. She was leaning against me, her weight a heavy, unwelcome burden. “I’m tired. And Martha and David are already heading to the car.”

“Yes,” I said, my voice devoid of any warmth. “Let’s go.”

As we walked toward the exit, I saw Katia stepping into a black car and Samantha right behind her. I felt a surge of something, not jealousy, but a raw, primal need to follow her and to finish what we had started in my office.

I climbed into the back of the limousine with Delia, the silence of the vehicle a deafening reminder of the hollow life I had built. Delia reached for my hand, but I pulled away, resting my arm on the window ledge instead.

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