Chapter 18 - Shadows in the LibraryBy midnight, the estate had settled into a deep, protective silence. The storm outside had cleared, leaving a blanket of moonlight reflecting off the snow-covered cliffs of the Atlantic coastline.
Julian sat alone in the dim corner of the library, the green-shaded lamp casting its sharp circle of light across an old leather-bound volume on maritime law.
On the rug near the hearth, Rex and General Mustard had achieved an uneasy, species-defying truce. The massive Malinois was curled in a protective circle, and the orange kitten was fast asleep right between the dog’s massive front paws, using Rex’s warm black-and-tan ear as a velvet pillow.
The library door clicked open with a soft, whisper-quiet motion.
Julian didn't reach for his gun. He didn't even look up. The scent of black coffee and faint jasmine told him exactly who it was.
Camille walked in, carrying a single porcelain cup, setting it down beside his elbow with absolute, practiced silence. She didn't walk away; she remained standing beside the desk, her fingers resting lightly on the polished mahogany surface.
"You're working late again," she said quietly.
"Checking the secondary asset reports from Palermo," Julian replied, turning a page. "Salvatore wants us to expand our holdings into the Mediterranean ports by next spring. He thinks we need a permanent presence in Marseille."
Camille was quiet for a long moment. The fire crackled softly, casting dancing amber shadows across her face.
"And what did you tell him?" she asked.
Julian finally looked up. His gray eyes, usually as cold and reflective as frozen river ice, were entirely soft. He reached out, his hand sliding over hers on the mahogany desk, stopping her restless fingers.
"I told him my logistics coordinator is currently under contract in Nashville and New York," Julian said, his voice dropping into a deep, steady murmur. "And that the master of this house has no intention of moving anywhere else."
Camille’s dark eyes locked onto his. For the first time since she had walked through the estate gates nine months ago as a desperate widow hiding from her past, the last remnants of armor vanished completely from her face.
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She turned her hand over, gripping his fingers back with a firm, unbreakable hold.
"Good," she whispered, a rare, beautiful smile breaking across her lips. "Because the drainage culvert still needs reinforcing, and I'm not letting a cat run this estate better than we do."
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