My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 70

Dubai Is Calling

~Julian~

The invitation arrived on a Tuesday morning, buried between a legal brief and a quarterly infrastructure report in the stack my assistant placed on my desk at 7 AM. It was printed on heavy cream card with the Dubai Motorsport Authority seal at the top and the kind of formal language that meant someone had decided this mattered enough to send physical mail instead of an email.

Windsor Empire Group is cordially invited to attend the Dubai 24 Hour Race as the official VIP sponsor.

I read it twice. Then I set it aside and worked through the legal brief and the infrastructure report and a conference call with the Singapore team, and at eleven I picked it up again and read it a third time with my full attention.

The Dubai 24-Hour Race. One of the most prestigious endurance events on the underground circuit calendar, not officially sanctioned and never publicly listed, but attended by enough serious money and serious talent that its reputation had outgrown the legal grey area it operated in. WEG had been tangentially connected to the Dabai racing world for years through hospitality and venue partnerships. This was different. This was a direct invitation, which meant someone had decided Julian Windsor should be in that room specifically.

I was going to say yes regardless. But it helped that I had a reason beyond the obvious one.

I called Zane.

He picked up on the second ring, which meant he was at his desk and not in a meeting, which meant he had been waiting for this call specifically. Zane had a talent for anticipating the calls I was going to make before I made them, which was either perceptive or irritating depending on the day.

“Dubai,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “I saw the copy that came through WEG events.

“We’re going.”

“I assumed.” A pause. “You’re going for the race or for Catwoman?”

I looked at the invitation on my desk. At the seal. On the date, six weeks away, the same week WEG’s Dubai expansion review was scheduled, the same week that I* Technologies had been in preliminary discussions about a Middle East office launch.

“Both,” I said.

Zane was quiet for a moment. “Julian.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just going to say-

“Zane.”

H

“Fine.” I heard him exhale. “What do you need?”

facial recognition capability, drone coverage over the event perimeter, every entry and “Security deployment. Full package – exit point covered. Legally, under the VIP sponsor security agreement.” I picked up a pen. “I want every woman who enters that

circuit on camera.

A pause that was slightly longer than the previous ones. “That’s thorough.”

“It’s efficient.”

“Julian, that is- yes, we can do it, technically speaking, but deploying facial recognition at a private racing event because you have a theory about a racing alias is

”

+25 Bonus

I didn’t respond to that. I set the pen down and looked out the window at the Manhattan skyline, grey and indifferent in the November morning. Six weeks. The 24 Hour Race ran across one full day and night, which meant Catwoman-if she came, and I was increasingly certain she would come would be racing in the dark. That was her environment. That was where she was

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