Julian hated places like this.
Big crystal lights, soft velvet walls, music that was too loud and too fancy. Too many people pretending to be something they weren't.
Tonight, the Windsor family — one of the oldest and toughest families in the city — was hosting a big banquet at the Langdon Hotel.
His father's expression had been a mix of curiosity and suspicion when Julian offered to attend the banquet on his behalf.
"You're going to a society event? Voluntarily?" he'd asked surprised.
Julian had shrugged it off.
"Why not? It could be useful."
His father knew him too well. He knew he avoided these things like the plague. But tonight, he had a reason. That reason had piercing eyes and a sharp tongue.
Lyvana Montclair was going to be there. How did he know? Well Lily was an efficient assistant.
Julian stood near the edge of the ballroom with his hands in his pockets, watching everything.
Old habit. You learned a lot by staying still while others put on their performances.
And then he saw her.
Lyvana stood near the center of the room. She looked different from the night before. She wore an emerald-green mermaid gown that clung to her form, the thin spaghetti straps framing her shoulders with effortless elegance.
She looked flawless.
Mark Vaughn hovered close, too close, touching her arm like he owned the right.
So that was the fiancé.
Julian's jaw tightened. He recognized the type immediately — possessive without presence, loud without substance.
The way Lyvana subtly angled her body away told him everything he needed to know. He wondered if she knew he was having an affair. Yes Lily told him that too.
Julian exhaled slowly, something dark curling in his chest. He hadn't come here to start trouble. He'd come to confirm something.
And there it was.
She didn't want him.
She was a woman playing a role because she had to, not because she wanted to.
That annoyed him more than it should have.
He pushed off the wall and moved into the crowd. He crossed the room just as Mark was distracted — called away by a Windsor cousin with a glass already in hand.
Julian didn't waste the opening.
He stopped a few feet from her.
Lyvana felt him before she saw him. She turned and her expression shifted.
"Why are you staring at me?" She asked, looking a bit irritated.
How could someone look so fucking sexy when angry.
"Habit," Julian said simply. "I watch things that interest me."
"Are you flirting with me?" Lyvana asked.
"Maybe I am."
"I'm engaged."
It's obvious she had forgotten him. That's a bit unfair. She had stuck in his mind since that kiss.
"Isn't that your boyfriend holding the blonde woman over there."
Lyvana frowned. Indeed Mark was all over Clarisse.
"That's none of your business."
Julian laughed. This woman doesn't know it yet, but her business was now his business.
She turned and walked to the bar to sit although she had no intentions of drinking or eating anything at this event — afraid someone might drug her as it happened in her previous life.
Julian sat beside her.
"Go away," she said.
"You really don't remember me do you?"
"Should I?"
Why didn't she remember him. That bothered him... a lot. As she got up to leave, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She landed on his chest, her eyes going wide.
Before she could react he crushed his lips to hers.
Julian's mouth was hot, tasting of expensive bourbon and a dark, simmering hunger that made her lungs seize.
He didn't just kiss her; he took her breath and held it hostage. Lyvana struggled for a second, her hands flat against the expensive silk of his waistcoat, but the sensation of his heartbeat stilled her. Her skin screamed where his fingers bit into her wrist, anchoring her to him. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a claim.
Then it hit her, this was the stranger who had kissed her when she was near drunk.
When he finally pulled back, he didn't let go. He hovered inches from her face, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with a possessiveness that made her blood run cold.
"Do you remember now?" he said, dangerously low. "Or do I need to be more thorough?"
Lyvana's chest rose and fell, her lips tingling and swollen. The irritation she'd felt moments ago had been replaced by anger — not just of him, but of the way her own body keeps reacting to him.
"You're insane," she whispered, glancing frantically toward the dance floor.
Mark was still occupied, laughing as Clarisse whispered in his ear. The man who had murdered her in another life didn't even notice she was being claimed by a predator right under his nose.
Lyvana looked at Julian. "Kiss me again and I'll make a scene you can't buy your way out of."
Julian leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, sending a violent shiver down her spine. "You agreed the moment you didn't scream."
He stood up, towering over her, looking every bit the man who could dismantle an empire and feel nothing.
"Finish your night with your... fiancé," he said, the word dripping with mockery. "But don't get too comfortable with him. You belong at my side, Lyvana Montclair."
He turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the banquet without looking back.
Lyvana sat frozen at the bar as she touched her lips.
Mark returned moments later, his cheeks flushed, Clarisse lingering just behind him.
"There you are," he said, possessive smile snapping into place as his hand reached for her waist.
Lyvana stepped away before he could touch her.
"I'm leaving," she said.
Mark blinked. "What do you mean you are leaving?"
"I have an emergency."
"What kind of emergency?"
"A personal one," she said already walking away. "I will call you later tonight."
She didn't wait for his answer and left. The cool night air hit her as she stepped outside the hotel. She lifted her hand, looking for a cab.
Suddenly, hands grabbed her arms from behind.
Before she could turn, a sharp sting pierced the side of her neck.