The air inside the dressing room felt recycled and stale, yet it was the only sanctuary available. Scarlett sat at the vanity, her hands resting in her lap. The silence was not empty. It was heavy with the weight of what Julian had just done. He had dismantled the professional distance she had so carefully maintained, and in its place, he had planted a flag of absolute ownership.
Julian stood by the door, his posture relaxed yet vigilant. He watched her through the mirror. He did not say a word, allowing her to process the intrusion. Scarlett finally met his gaze in the glass. The man staring back was not the cold, calculated investor she had married for a contract. He was someone far more dangerous. He was a man who had decided that the lines he had drawn in the sand were no longer sufficient.
