Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 12

Tristan’s eyebrows rose. “Working on it? That’s rather… clinical

language. Not very romantic.” He tilted his head. “Or have you finally

given up? Realized my brother is completely, utterly, never–going–to-

happen uninterested?”

“Tristan.” Julian’s voice cracked like a whip. “That’s enough.”

“Oh, come on.” Victoria wasn’t finished. She was having too much fun.

“She needs to hear it, Jules. Someone has to tell her the truth since

she clearly can’t take a hint. No matter how many times you ignore

her, no matter how obvious you make it that you find her pathetic-”

“Victoria, I said enough.” Julian’s tone could have frozen fire.

She subsided, but her eyes never left my face, gleaming with

malicious satisfaction.

For the first time since I’d entered, Julian looked up from his phone.

His eyes found mine across the table–gray–blue like winter Atlantic,

cold and fathomless. I watched something flicker there. Confusion?

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Chapter 12

Irritation? He picked up his wine glass, studying me through the amber liquid, and for a moment I saw it: the hairline crack in his

perfect composure.

He’d spent a year enduring my attention. Now its absence unsettled

him.

Good.

The head server set down the first course with practiced precision:

seared scallops on a bed of butternut squash purée, garnished with

microgreens.

“So.” Mr. Vane Senior cut into his scallop with surgical precision.

“Julian, tomorrow’s Boston trip. The Kennedys are expecting you at

seven. Their daughter Sloane is co–hosting, I understand?”

My fork paused halfway to my mouth. Just for a heartbeat. Just long

enough for the past life to crash over me like a wave-

Sloane Kennedy in a cream silk gown, hand possessive on Julian’s

arm. “I told you she’d be a problem, darling.” That smile, crystalline

and cutting, “Girls like that always are.”

I forced myself to swallow. Forced the memory back down where it

belonged.

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Chapter 12

“Yes.” Julian’s voice changed–softened in a way it never did for me.

“Sloane’s been planning this event for months. Last year’s fundraiser

brought in two million. This one should exceed that.”

“Impressive girl.” Mr. Vane Senior nodded approvingly. “Beautiful,

accomplished, well–connected. You could do worse, Julian.”

Victoria clasped her hands together, practically bouncing in her seat.

“Oh my God, I love Sloane! Did you see her Instagram last week? That

painting she sold at Sotheby’s went for half a million dollars! And

she’s only eighteen! Plus her skin care routine is amazing. I’ve been

using the same products she recommended and-”

“Caged Bird,” Tristan interrupted smoothly, swirling his wine. “The

Sotheby’s piece. Quite striking, actually. All that symbolism about

freedom and captivity. Very… timely, given current social discourse.”

He paused, then added with perfect casual cruelty: “You paint too,

don’t you, Elara? Perhaps you should ask Sloane for tips. Though I

suppose there’s quite a gap between amateur doodling and actual

marketable art.”

Victoria giggled. “Oh God, remember that painting she did last year?

The one she gave Julian for his birthday?” She turned to her brother.

“What did you do with that, by the way? Donate it? Or just throw it

away?”

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