Chapter 6 Cold Walls, Warm Eyes

> "He says nothing. But his eyes... they speak in volumes."

Julian pulls away again. And Alora starts to question if she imagined everything between them.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

For the next few days, Julian avoided her.

Not in the dramatic, storm-off kind of way. No. Julian Vale didn't storm. He calculated.

He made himself busier. Earlier mornings. Later nights. Meetings stacked back-to-back. Messages relayed through assistants. Pages of handwritten interview answers instead of face-to-face time.

And Alora?

She felt the shift like frost creeping across a window.

He hadn't touched her. He hadn't kissed her. But something had changed in that almost.

She tried to throw herself into the writing-rereading transcripts, outlining scenes from his past, structuring his chapters around trauma and triumph. But every word felt hollow without the living, breathing contradiction that was Julian sitting across from her.

By the fifth day, she snapped.

She marched straight into the main house, through the private hallway, past the silent security guards who recognized her now-and found him in the study.

He looked up, startled-but only for a moment.

"I see your messages work better than you do," she said, crossing her arms.

Julian set down the file he was holding. "Alora-"

"No. No smooth billionaire deflection tonight." Her voice shook-not from fear, but frustration. "You brought me here to tell your real story, remember? Not to ghostwrite from a distance while you hide behind your pretty walls."

His gaze darkened. "You think I'm hiding?"

"I know you are." She walked toward him, slow but fierce. "You almost kissed me. And then you locked yourself away like you did something wrong."

His jaw tightened.

"I did do something wrong," he said lowly. "I let my guard down."

Alora stopped in front of his desk, heart thudding. "Why does that have to be a bad thing?"

Julian stood then, and suddenly, the space between them felt electric.

"You don't understand what happens when I care about people, Alora. They use me. They leave. Or worse-they stay long enough to find my weak spots."

Her voice was softer now. "And what if I don't want your money? Or your power? What if I just want you?"

He stared at her like that idea was more dangerous than anything he'd built with code and steel.

"I don't know who I am when I'm not protecting myself."

"Then maybe that's who we start writing about," she said gently. "Not the Julian Vale everyone sees... but the one who plays piano when he can't sleep. The one who collects first edition books and pretends not to care. The one who looks at me like I make him forget the rest of the world exists."

A pause.

Long.

Sharp.

Tender.

Julian stepped around the desk-slowly-and stood inches from her.

The space between them was charged again. But this time, neither of them moved away.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "You terrify me."

She smiled softly. "Likewise."

Then...

he reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

It was the smallest touch. Barely there. But it held everything they hadn't said.

Alora didn't lean in. Neither did he.

But their eyes locked-and for one breathless second, it felt like the world around them disappeared.

He pulled back.

Not far. Just enough.

"Stay for dinner," he said.

She blinked. "Are you cooking?"

"I own the kitchen," he said dryly. "Doesn't mean I know what anything in it does."

Alora laughed, the sound easing the air between them.

"I'll cook," she said. "But only if you promise not to disappear after dessert."

Julian's lips curved into something warm. "Deal."

And just like that... the ice didn't crack.

It melted.