Catherine’s POV
There was a big silence after I spoke, abruptly putting an end to the flirtatious moment. Julian didn’t move for a moment, my words and the sight of my phone had snapped him out of his predatory mood.
"What did you say?" his voice was low and utterly confused.
Without waiting for me to repeat myself, he moved and quickly grabbed his towel, yanking it back around his waist, cinching it tight. He looked disoriented for a second, like he’d just woken up and hurried toward me.
I held my phone up again, pressing the play button before he could demand for an explanation. I didn’t need the video to play out again; the images were already burned into my mind, and I knew the sound would be enough.
Julian’s eyes were glued to the small screen as the low-quality sound and jerky image started. I watched his face squeeze tight with disgust and disbelief as he recognized the figures and the act.
"That bastard," he muttered, his jaw clenching so hard.
He might have contained his anger then, but the video was timed perfectly. Collins’s smug voice came through the phone’s speaker, delivering the cruel message aimed directly at me: "Julian will never be able to make you feel this good. He never satisfied Sasha in bed and that’s the reason she always comes to me."
That was it. Julian immediately lost his cool.
A roar tore out of his throat; a raw, wounded sound. He spun away from me and moved to his desk, slamming his hand down, and sweeping everything off the surface. Pens, papers, a heavy inkwell, and a lamp crashed to the floor, making sickening thuds.
He started pacing, breathing hard and fast, running his hands through his damp hair. His face was distorted with a mixture of rage, embarrassment, and deep hurt.
I didn’t expect that this would make him go out of character.
"Julian!" I called out his name, while trying to calm the storm of his anger. He didn’t stop thrashing things and hitting the wall. "Please, stop it!" I tried again, following him around. My voice was audible but he didn’t hear me. "Julian, listen to me!"
On the third call, I knew just shouting wouldn’t work. I moved quickly, threw my phone to the bed and crossed the space between us, reaching him just as he lifted a vase. I slid behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him tight, and leaning my weight against his back.
"Stop, please," I begged, pulling back against his momentum. "It’s over. Just look at me. Stop."
Holding him worked perfectly. Thank fucking goodness. I almost thought he would throw something at me too.
He stopped breathing hard, his body rigid against mine for a moment, then he slowly released the tension. He lowered the vase and quickly turned in my embrace, facing me.
He was still breathing hard and fast, struggling to pull in air. His eyes were wide and dark but he didn’t look angry anymore; instead, he looked utterly distraught.
He grabbed my face with both his hands, holding me firmly, making me look directly into his eyes. "Are you going to let him sleep with you, Catherine?" he asked, the words tumbling out in a desperate, strained whisper.
I blinked, confused. The question had hit me like a physical slap, completely out of left field. Why would he immediately jump to questioning my dignity? Why would he ask me such a question?
He called my name again, softer this time, pulling me back to the moment. "Catherine, answer me."
My nose wrinkled in pain, as I looked into his eyes. That question was an insult. It showed me just how little he truly knew me, or believed in me.
I quickly peeled his hands off my face and took a step back, scoffing loudly. "Are you serious? Is that how low you think of me, Julian? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
He looked horrified that I had pulled away. He shook his head immediately, regret clouding his features. "No, wait, no! I didn’t mean it like that. I am sorry. I’m just... losing it right now. I apologize."
He lowered his voice again, sounding broken. "It’s just... the women I loved always ended up leaving me. Betraying me."
The women he loved. The words echoed in my mind. I remembered vividly how he had told me he never really loved Sasha; that she was just chasing him and he let it happen.
I gave him an intense, interrogative look. "Wait. Hold on. Did you say women you loved? So, you loved Sasha then, huh?"
He ducked his lower lip in an involuntary sign of deep discomfort, then he looked away briefly.
The next time he looked at me, I saw defeat in his eyes.
"Yes," he admitted quietly, the word was barely a breath. "I did. I loved her then. It was then, not now. The feeling isn’t there anymore. If there’s anything I feel for her, it is disgust."
"So why did you lie about it?" I pressed, needing to understand. "Why do you always lie to me?"
He swallowed hard before answering. "I’m sorry, it’s just that what she did to me... what she did with Collins while we were still together, completely broke my heart. I couldn’t stand how much it hurt. So, I started lying to myself. I told myself it didn’t hurt because I never really loved her. It was the only way I could cope with the betrayal."
As he spoke those words, the careful composure he always maintained shattered completely. His strong shoulders slumped, his chest heaved, and then, for the first time since I had met him, Julian broke down. He didn’t make a sound, but his eyes flooded, and a single, fat tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another. He covered his face with his hands, and his whole body trembled with wrenching despair.
Standing in front of me was a deeply wounded Julian, the powerful, arrogant Julian I knew was gone.
Without thinking, I rushed toward him and wrapped my arms tightly around his torso, pulling him into a tight hug.
Julian reciprocated instantly, clinging to me. His arms locked around me, holding me tightly, burying his face in my hair. I could feel the sharp intake of his shuddering breaths as he finally allowed himself to be vulnerable. "Please don’t ever leave me."