Before I could respond, Julian’s voice drifted from the car. It wasn’t loud, but there was an unmistakable warmth to it.
“Olivia... you’re here.”
The way he said my name sent a small thrill through me. Yes, Julian, I’m here. And so is my chance at that million dollars.
With his cooperation, I managed to guide him out of the car and into the elevator. By the time we reached his penthouse, I’d removed his coat and watch, and he was docile as a lamb.
Once I’d gotten him to bed, I grabbed a towel and gently wiped his face. His usual stoicism had melted away, replaced by a soft, almost childlike smile. It was the first time I’d seen him like this—warm, open, and, dare I say, affectionate.
His hand brushed my cheek, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. For the first time, it felt like Julian was seeing me—not as his assistant, but as something more. My heart raced as I realized how close I was to achieving my goal.
Then, without warning, Julian cupped my face and pulled me closer. His lips hovered just inches from mine.
This is it, I thought. My moment. My chance.
But something didn’t feel right. If Julian wanted me, why now? Why when he was drunk and vulnerable?