Vivian didn't move. She couldn't. The rejection stung, but the desperation was stronger.
She walked over to the door and locked it. The click echoed in the large room.
Julian turned, his expression shifting from cold to amused. "Are you going to hold me hostage, Vivian?"
"I'm going to make you listen," she said, her voice trembling but defiant. She walked back to the table. "You think this is just about me? If my father's estate collapses, it's going to be a feeding frenzy. You manage half the portfolios that are invested in Sterling Industries. If the stock tanks because of a family feud, your clients lose money. And when your clients lose money, you look incompetent."
She took a breath, playing the only card she had-his ego.
"You're the impenetrable shield of the elite, right? Well, if the Sterling empire falls apart while you watch from the sidelines, people will wonder why the great Julian Blackwood didn't see it coming."
Julian paused. He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time. "A plea to my vanity," he said, sounding almost disappointed. "Better than begging, I suppose. But still irrelevant."
He reached for a small porcelain cup on the side table. An espresso. "Conrad already called. He wants me to consult for the trust. He wants to pay me to ensure I don't help you."
Vivian felt the floor drop out. "Conrad got to you?"
"He's thorough," Julian said, taking a sip. "And unlike you, he has the authority to sign checks."
"He's a snake!" Vivian yelled, losing her composure. "He'll run the company into the ground!"
"Not my problem," Julian said. "I enjoy watching things burn."
Something inside Vivian snapped. The exhaustion, the fear, the humiliation-it all boiled over into a white-hot rage.
She grabbed the espresso cup from his hand.
Julian didn't react fast enough.
She threw the contents in his face.
The dark, hot liquid splashed across his cheek, his chin, and soaked into the pristine white collar of his shirt.
Julian frozen. He closed his eyes. A drop of coffee dripped from his nose.
The room went deadly silent.
Vivian gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "I... I didn't..."
Julian opened his eyes. They weren't cold anymore. They were burning.
He didn't wipe his face. He stepped forward. Vivian stepped back. He took another step. She retreated until her back hit the bookshelf filled with leather-bound law books.
Julian slammed his hands on the shelves on either side of her head, trapping her.
"You have a death wish," he growled.
Vivian looked up at him, trembling. The coffee stained his skin like war paint. He smelled of espresso and fury.
"You deserved it," she whispered, though her voice shook.
Julian stared at her mouth. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. The air between them crackled with electricity. It was violence, but it was something else, too. Something dark and suffocating.
He leaned in. Vivian stopped breathing. She thought he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her.
Instead, his hand moved to the intercom on the desk behind him. He didn't look away from her eyes.
"Security," he said, his voice rough. "My office. Now."
He pushed himself off the bookshelf and stepped back, ignoring the mess on his face.
"That's assault, Vivian," he said coolly. "I could have you arrested."
"Do it," she challenged, tears stinging her eyes. "At least in jail, I get a free lawyer."
Julian's jaw tightened. For a second, she saw a flicker of hesitation.
Then the door burst open. Caleb and two security guards rushed in.
"Get her out of here," Julian ordered, turning his back to her. "And file for a restraining order."
