Chapter 22

Julian

"If you wanted me to move tonight, you should have thought twice about feeding me so much meat," Poppy groans, leaning back in her chair. Her small hand rests on her stomach. The dim, warm light of the packed New York City steak restaurant casts shadows on her long, auburn hair.

All my brain hears is 'feeding meat,' and my desire flares up once again. Despite my best efforts to behave like a respectable gentleman throughout the date, avoiding the temptation of taking her in the backseat of my car has been a challenge, especially with her earlier promise of letting me do anything tonight. My mind teems with visions of having her in my bed—her lips parted, eyes wide in awe, nails digging into my shoulder as I make love to her. I just want her safe and in my arms.

The restaurant is buzzing, renowned as the city's top steakhouse, usually requiring a six-month wait for a reservation. However, thanks to Kent's connections, we secured a table. Leaning forward, elbows on the table, I whisper so only she can hear, "You don't have to move, Pumpkin. I'll do all the work." I lean back, watching her cheeks blush a deep crimson, a vivid contrast to the restaurant's dark ambiance.

" Challenge accepted." She jokes. " But seriously, I ' m not sure I can stand from the table."

I look down at the small circular table and envision her laid out on it. My cock might just break my zipper.

"Oh, no, you don't," Poppy giggles, catching my thoughts.

"I know exactly what you're thinking."

"And what's that?" I tease as I lean forward and rest my head in my hand, my index finger tapping my cheek.

"Men think rudimentary. You want sex, I can ' t move, so one plus one in your mind means we ' ll just do it on the table." She brings the glass to her lips, smirking at it as she takes a sip. " Problem solved, right?"

I hold her gaze, my eyes revealing my true desires. The ambient lighting casts a soft glow on Poppy's beautiful face. I blink, capturing this moment mentally as if it were a photograph. I can't wait to capture more moments with her—a lifetime of memories.

"Remember, I grew up with brothers but also with Harper," she says, a playful note in her voice that draws a smile from me.

"So Harper gets the credit for helping you decipher the male mind," I muse, inhaling deeply as the subtle scent of aged wine fills the air.

She takes a sip of her wine again, her eyes looking up as she remembers something that makes her smile, "Sadly, yes. Do you think Harper and I are bad now? This is our refined version. Imagine us in high school."

"Your poor parents," I joke, but then I immediately regret bringing them up.

Her smile briefly loses its strength, and she delicately places her wine glass back on the table, its clink muted against the soft murmur of conversations around us. For a fleeting moment, silence envelopes her, a thoughtful pause before her eyes lock onto mine. "You can bring them up, Jules. I have a lot of good memories I want to share with you. It ' s not just about the bad ones."

Leaning forward, I navigate the miniature landmine of our dinner table—a maze of glasses, an arsenal of silverware, and the small vase with flowers that seem to capture the very essence of her, alongside the candle that flickers like the heartbeat of the city outside. Finally, our hands meet and lock together in a clasp that feels like a vow. "I want to grow old with you, Poppy." The words aren't just spoken; they're felt, a raw and unscripted truth emerging from the core of me.

She chews on her bottom lip, a gesture that's become a tell, signaling the whirlwind of thoughts she's sorting through. The candlelight dances across her features, casting shadows that play in the depths of her eyes.

"I want that, too," Poppy whispers back, her voice a soft echo. "But,"—I know that tone, she ' s about to make a joke—"I don't know my ring size. And if you ask Harper to help you pick out an engagement ring, she'll probably think you're talking about a cock ring."

A snort escapes my lips. God, I love this woman. I squeeze her hand tighter and then look at her ring finger. Suddenly, I want a ring on it, a claim that she ' s mine and that she's off limits. I know she was joking about engagement rings, but I like the idea. I like it a lot.

"Seriously, you think I ' m joking, Jules. But remember, men and Harper alike think straightforwardly. Harper will hear ‘ engagement ' and jump to sexual innuendos, then ‘ ring, ' and before you know it, you'll have a receipt for a cock ring purchase," Poppy grabs her wine and hides her giggle with her next sip.

"So, don't ask Harper for ring advice," I nod, "Let's just get it straight from the horse's mouth then?" I level her with a stare. Her hand freezes with the glass against her lips.

"Are you calling me a horse, Julian?" She grins as she tilts her head, showcasing her long, slender neck.

I lick my lips. "What kind of ring do you want, Poppy?" I ask seriously as a huge smile spreads across my face. This wasn't planned, but with Poppy, nothing ever is. It's spontaneous, natural, and, hey, this is something I should know because it ' s bound to happen eventually.

When she hesitates, I prompt, "Did I scare you?"

She shakes her head.

"I need words, Pumpkin."

She sets the glass down, and I notice the tremble in her fingers. "I guess this is the point in our relationship where we discuss our future," she admits.

"Does that scare you?"

She shrugs, "Yes and no. I ' m excited…"

"But?" I press.

"I don ' t want to mess it up."

I scoot my chair closer to the table, wishing we weren't separated by it. "It ' s usually the men who mess things up," I reassure her.

"True." Her lips begin to smile again.

The waiter interrupts us, and all I want to do is send him away. "Can I get you anything else? Dessert? We have flourless chocolate cake, crème br?lée, and our famous New York cheesecake."

I glance at Poppy.

"We ' re talking about our future here and marriage, so I think we ' re going to need more wine rather than dessert," Poppy confides.

I try to stifle my laughter. "Can we have another bottle, please?" I ask the waiter.

He beams, "Absolutely, Mr. Sterling," and then hurries off.

"You really want to marry me?" Poppy asks with a deadpan expression.

I stand, bringing my chair next to hers, then sit down. I tuck her hair behind her ear. "I'd go to a courthouse right now if you'd agree."

Her smile is there, but it doesn ' t fully reach her eyes. "I would go," she pauses, " Maybe a courthouse is best," she muses.

"I've seen you excited, and this isn't it," I admit. I feel like I ' ve been punched in the gut. "I fucked it up, didn't I. This was meant to be a fun date, and I turned it south." Why the heck did I bring up rings and marriage?

"No," Poppy replies quickly. "I am excited, Jules. I love you, and I want to marry you. A part of me wants to accept that offer and get married now." She runs her fingers over my knuckles. "It's just that every girl dreams of her big day, Jules, but I don ' t have my mom to help me pick out a dress, my dad to walk me down the aisle, or my brothers to scare you into behaving."

My heart drops. I lift her hand and slowly kiss each finger. "I know you don't have them, but you have me, and I'll do everything I can to fill their roles. I ' ll help you pick out a dress and walk you down the aisle, and as for your brothers ' shoes to fill, you never need to worry because I won ' t mess this up. Plus, you've got Harper, and she's scarier than any father or brother-in-law could ever be."

A lone tear falls from Poppy ' s eye. I want to reach out and catch it and keep it safe from prying eyes.

"I love you," she whispers as she leans into my side.

I lean in and kiss the top of her head, wanting to do a lot more, but I resist since the waiter is coming back with the bottle of wine. He uncorks it and pours a glass in a rushed motion, trying to gauge the situation.

Once he leaves, I hand her the glass. "I'm not rushing you. This just came up, and it's something we should discuss. We always move quickly, so let's take it slow. Do you want to marry me one day, Pumpkin?" I ask.

She giggles. "Is that question your way of taking it slow?" she teases.

"It ' s as slow as I can go with you, Pumpkin. When I ' m not with you, I feel like I ' m going crazy. So basically, marrying me would be saving my soul," I confess.

"In that case, yes, I ' d like to marry you one day, if only to save you from fire and brimstone," she replies. Her smile widens, and she's no longer gripping the wine glass like a life vest, so I take that as genuine.

"Good. See, that was slow and easy," I kiss her lips, tasting the aged wine lingering on them.

"Do you want me to surprise you with a ring, or do you have a style in mind?" I continue. I want to know because when the time is right, I want it to be perfect. I don't want to muddle it like I am now.

She takes a sip of wine. " I basically want a mountain on my hand. The bigger, the better." She says. That's good; she ' s back to her playful self. " I ' m joking," she adds.

" I know," I smirk.

"I've never really thought about it. My mom had a simple gold band."

"What do you want?" I inquire.

She takes her time to think it over. " Something that looks old and loved," she says.

What the heck does that mean?

" Like an antique, a ring that looks like it belongs to an epic love story." She looks long into her wine glass. " Is that crazy?"

" No," I reply. An antique look. I mentally catalog that. I ' m not a guy who likes to shop, but Kent is. He ' s got to be able to translate ‘ antique epic love story ring ' to a jeweler.

" Good. Now I have an idea." I smile and then take a sip of my wine. " Did I fuck it up by asking you all these questions?"

" No," she shakes her head, and some of her hair falls from over her shoulder down into the swell of her breasts. I reach out and tuck it back over her shoulder, but not before my knuckle grazes her nipple. Her lips part, and a small moan escapes as her nipples pebble.

I lean closer so my lips press against the shell of her ear, "I can't wait to taste you, Poppy. Every." Kiss. "Single." I kiss her again asI run my lips over her jawline. "Inch." I allow my teeth to nip her earlobe as I playfully bite it before I pull away. Her thighs clench, making her black dress inch up to reveal the start of her slender thighs.

We each finish our glass of wine; chugging it down is more like it. I know when my woman needs me. She keeps adjusting her position, legs clenching, her eyes bouncing from my lips to my hard cock.

I pay the bill. Poppy gently reaches for my hand. " Thank you, Jules, for everything, for this date, for your love, for wanting to be with a person like me."

Her words make me hesitate. I love some of them, but I don ' t like others. She still doesn ' t see her value, but I ' ll make it my mission that she does.

" Poppy Moore, you are the most beautiful woman I have had the honor of meeting. If one day you decide to be my wife, to be the mother of my kids, I ' d be the happiest man alive. You are the most valuable person to me; do you understand that?" I hold her stare. Know I love you, know how much you ' re worth, Poppy. Let me show you.

She reaches over and touches my shoulder. " You make me feel a level of happiness I never thought I ' d feel again, Jules." She kisses me. " Thank you, my love."

My heart? It just doubled in size. I love hearing her call me that.

" I just have to use the restroom before we go," she says as she stands.

I nod and watch her hips sway as she navigates through the packed tables toward the restroom. Every single fucker that looks at her is mentally put on my hit list. Animals. All of them.

I know Poppy joked about a huge ring on her finger, but I ' m serious about it. I want her engagement ring to say, ‘ See this: I belong to Julian Sterling. Don ' t fuck with me. '

I grin and scratch my jaw. I might have that engraved on the inside of it.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out. All my joy from the evening pops like a balloon. It ' s a picture of Poppy and me sitting at the table. The table is clean, so it had to have been taken shortly after we sat down; our wine wasn ' t even poured yet.

A series of texts ping my phone, each one feeling like a bullet hitting me, reminding me I ' m not invincible and that I alone can ' t protect Poppy.

Unknown: You think you can take what ' s mine. Trick her with a nice dinner?

Unknown: I ' m going to enjoy taking her from you.

Unknown: I ' m going to enjoy hearing her call out my name and not yours when I fuck her.

Unknown: I ' m going to enjoy her while you rot.

I ' m up and running towards the restrooms, bumping into tables as I barrel through. I hear people shout at me, curses, and glasses clinking as I assume they have spilled on the tables. I burst through the women's door without a second thought, just in time to see Poppy reapplying her lipstick; her eyes go wide.

" Julian," she gasps. Then she looks left to right, but she ' s alone. " What are you doing? This is the ladies' room."

I hesitate, my entire frame filling the door as I think. If I tell her about the latest threat, all her happiness from earlier will vanish.

I won ' t let that fucker win.

I straighten up and reach for her hand, take her lipstick, and toss it inside her bag. " You don ' t need lipstick. I ' m just going to kiss it off."

I grip her ass and try to act like a feral man when in reality, I ' m trying to think of the best way to get us out alive.

Andrew. That fucker has someone tailing me.

My uncle has a team covering me; they are planted outside per my request. I wanted this evening to be private, special for Poppy and me. Clearly, Andrew knew that.

Uncle Dan ' s team has a mole. The members of his team were the only ones who knew I added the last-minute trip to New York and the dinner for tonight.

Fuck! Fuck!

" Julian!" Poppy shyly hisses. She shoves me out the door and follows me. " You ' re an animal."

" I know," I mutter, trying to engage in the conversation, but my eyes scan the room, looking for the exact angle from which the photo was captured. It had to have been taken from the bar; it ' s elevated and overlooks the dining area. It ' s packed, and I ' m sure the cameraman is long gone. Andrew isn ' t the type that faces you eye to eye; he stabs you in the back and runs. That ' s exactly what he did tonight. Hired someone to try and frighten me.

Poppy hurries me through the restaurant, probably thinking the side eyes everyone is giving us are from my barreling through to the women ' s room and not through the tables to get to her, " You can ' t just rush into the bathroom, Julian."

" I wanted to kiss you," I say, hoping she still believes the lie.

" Well, patience is a virtue. We ' re headed back to the hotel anyway," she rolls her eyes, but her smirk can ' t be hidden.

I grab her waist and keep it glued to my side, " Your mistake was thinking I was a man with morals; when it comes to our sex life, I have no laws to live by. When I want you, I have to have you, Pumpkin. It ' s called an addiction."

She giggles, " Do I need to find you a 12-step program?"

" The only 12 steps are of the foreplay I ' m going to act out when we're behind closed doors."

She elbows my side.

A part of me wants to grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and rush us through the kitchen to a back door exit.

Think smart. Andrew isn ' t going to hurt her. He wants her.

I keep walking, allowing her to push me outside. The thick New York air filled with humidity and car exhaust fills my nose.

I spot my uncle's team with the car waiting. I shake my head at them. " Let ' s walk," I tell Poppy as I tuck her closer to my left side so she is trapped between the building and me, perfectly safe from the road.

" Walk?" She replies, " You just caveman-style barreled into the ladies' room and grabbed my ass, and now you want to walk. I was half worried you ' d have me stripped bare before we reached the car."

I pretend to laugh, but it ' s too tight and sounds off.

" I ' m trying to behave. We didn ' t finish the date yet. I wanted to walk Central Park with you. Consider it step one."

She wraps her arm around my waist, " Jules, I love that you planned this date, but if you don ' t get me back to the room and thoroughly fuck me, I might combust."

Five minutes ago, that statement would have had me hard as granite, but now all I can do is scan our surroundings. " Okay, Pumpkin." I look down the street and spot two of my uncle's men tailing us. That used to make me feel safe. My eyes narrow; which one is the mole?

" Let ' s take a taxi. They drive faster than the driver we have," I say as I look back at Poppy. She ' s grinning and doesn ' t seem to have caught onto my exchange. I probably have the bottle of wine we finished for that aloofness. I hail a cab and get her inside first. Looking over my shoulder, I see the men's confusion before I slam the door shut. I pull out my phone and text my uncle, including Harper.

Julian: You have a mole. Andrew knows where we are this very minute.

" You okay?" Poppy asks with a hint of concern.

I look down at her; her round face is glowing, but her eyes are searching now. I nod. " More than okay," I lie as I lean in and kiss her, slipping my tongue inside to swirl around hers. Before the kiss gets too intense, she pulls away and shyly looks down.

I take her hand and place it on my lap. She smiles and looks out the window, tipping her head up as she looks at the skyscrapers. I use her distraction to think. If I can't trust Uncle Dan's team, I have no other option but to trust my last resort.

I pull out my phone, keeping it to the opposite side so Poppy can't see. Her eyes are still glued to the blurring lights of the city. My fingers move with urgency as I send the text along with a screenshot of what Andrew sent me.

It's time to make a deal with a devil, otherwise known as my deceptive older brother Theo.