Chapter7 His Wife, His Rules
Chloe
My phone buzzed the next afternoon. I glanced at the screen—Phil Carrington, The Abyss.
My stomach tightened. Phil never called unless there was a problem.
"Ms. Harrison? This is Phil Carrington, manager at The Abyss. I'm calling to inform you that all your scheduled shifts have been cancelled, effective immediately."
The words hit like a physical blow. "What? Phil, why?"
"We've received a complaint from one of our most important patrons—a very powerful gentleman with significant influence in Los Angeles. He made it explicitly clear that if we continue to employ you, he'll blacklist us with every major venue from here to San Diego."
My hands went cold. Richard. It had to be Richard.
"Phil, please. I need this job. The rent, our daily expenses—"
"I'm genuinely sorry, Chloe, but my hands are tied."
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, rage settling in my chest like ice water. Goldman was gone. The club was gone. And with Richard's network, who would dare hire me?
No. I didn't survive everything just to let some mediocre predator destroy me.
I grabbed my jacket and headed for The Abyss.
Phil looked up as I entered his office. "Chloe, I didn't expect you in person. I'm truly sorry, but this patron could shut us down with a single phone call. "
"Let me talk to him. Let me explain—"
The entrance doors exploded open.
A tall silhouette appeared, backlit by street light, moving with predatory grace. Four men in dark suits flanked him. Then he stepped into the chandelier light.
Julian.
But not my Julian. This Julian wore a charcoal Tom Ford suit, his presence filling the space with crushing authority. His amber eyes swept the room before landing on me, something fierce and possessive flashing in their depths.
Phil had gone pale. "Mr. Astor, I—we weren't expecting—"
Julian ignored him, walking straight toward me. He stopped close, leaning down to murmur in my ear. "I said there was something you needed to tell me if you couldn't handle it. I'm here now."
Without thinking, I grabbed his hand. His fingers closed around mine immediately.
Julian turned to Phil, voice dropping to ice. "Who gave you permission to terminate my wife's employment?"
Phil's mouth opened and closed. "Your wife? Mr. Astor, I had no idea—Mr. Carter said Ms. Harrison was involved in workplace scandal—"
Julian pulled out his phone, speaker on.
"This is Astor. Effective immediately, Richard Carter is permanently blacklisted from all Astor Capital properties. Alert Goldman's compliance we're withdrawing from the Wilson merger until they address their harassment problem."
He paused. "And Phil? Three months suspension without bonus for failing to verify claims before terminating my wife's employment."
The line clicked off. Phil looked sick.
Julian turned to me, expression softening. "Let's go."
Outside, I yanked my hand away. "What the hell? You're supposed to be in Taipei! How did you know I was here?"
"I've always known about your second job. Your schedule, your routes. I have access to your location data, your financial records. Everything."
"You've been spying on me?"
"Protecting."
He stepped closer, backing me against the wall, hands bracing on either side without touching.
"Because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have known Richard was blackmailing you with photographs. I wouldn't have known about the beach house threat." His jaw tightened.
"Then why wait until now?"
"Because you asked me not to interfere at Goldman. I was respecting that boundary. But when he went after your last income source?" Something dangerous flashed."That crossed a line."
Part of me wanted to rage at the invasion. But a larger part felt overwhelming relief.
"I can't keep accepting your help. This is supposed to be a transaction."
"You don't owe me anything." His hand cupped my face. "I'm your husband. Protecting you isn't a debt—it's what I'm supposed to do."
"Tomorrow morning, Astor Capital's HR will call you. They'll offer an interview for junior analyst." He smiled at my shock.
"I'm not giving you the job—you'll earn it. Our interview process is harder than Goldman's. But I promise you a fair shot."
"During business hours, you'll call me 'Mr. Astor.' Complete professional boundaries." His smile turned predatory.
"After hours, you'll call me Julian. Or whatever comes to mind when I have you in our bed."
Heat flooded through me. A Rolls-Royce pulled up. "Come on. I'm taking you home."
Outside our apartment, I saw Ethan under the streetlight—tall, arms crossed, face thunderous.
Julian stepped out, taking my hand.
Ethan walked toward us, ignoring Julian.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine. Ethan, this is—"
"I know who he is." Ethan looked at Julian. "Thanks for bringing her home. I can take it from here."
"She's my wife now. My responsibility."
"Your responsibility?" Ethan's laugh was harsh. " I've been taking care of my sister way before you do."
"Ethan, stop." I moved between them. "He helped me today."
Julian moved fast, pressing Ethan against the wall. "Let's be clear. Your sister is my wife, and I will protect her. If you can't respect that, we'll have a problem."
"You hurt her, and I'll kill you."
"Fair enough. But I have no intention of hurting her."
Ethan looked at me. "You really want him?"
I thought about Julian flying back early, destroying Richard's power with one call.
"Yes."
Something in Ethan's expression crumbled. He nodded and disappeared inside.
Julian's arm came around my waist. "He loves you very much."
"He's protected me for so long. It's hard for him to trust anyone else."
"He's going to have to learn. Because I'm not going anywhere."
Later that night, after Julian left, I sat on my bed staring at my laptop.
Ethan appeared in my doorway holding two beers. He handed me one silently and sat on the edge of my bed.
"I'm sorry," he said after a long moment, picking at the label on his bottle. "For what I said outside. That was out of line."
I took a sip of beer. "You're scared for me. I get it. I'm scared too."
Ethan was quiet, then looked up at me. "He's dangerous, Chloe. The way he moved tonight, the way he looked at you—that's not some harmless rich guy playing house."
He paused, his voice dropping. "He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like if you disappeared tomorrow, nothing else in the world would matter to him."
I felt heat creep up my neck. "That's impossible. We barely know each other."
"Maybe." Ethan finished half his beer in one long drink. "But I'm telling you, sis—that guy isn't following the rules of your arrangement. He's not treating this like a business transaction." His eyes met mine. "And I don't think you are either."
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I picked it up—a text from Julian: "Interview is at 9 AM tomorrow. Wear whatever makes you feel powerful. You're going to be brilliant."
Ethan stood up, squeezing my shoulder. "You sure about this guy?"
I thought about Julian bursting through those doors tonight, the way he'd destroyed Richard's power with a single phone call, the fierce protectiveness in his eyes when he'd looked at me.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I'm sure."
Ethan nodded slowly and headed for the door. He paused in the doorway, looking back at me. "For what it's worth? I've never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at him tonight."
Ethan was right. Julian was dangerous—dangerous to my carefully constructed walls, dangerous to the independence I'd fought so hard to maintain, dangerous to the belief that I had to survive alone.
But maybe, just maybe, I was tired of being safe.
