Before I could piece it together, Julian’s lips met mine. His kiss was practiced, passionate, and left me dizzy. I barely had time to process what was happening before he whispered in my ear:
“Chloe.”
My heart sank. Chloe?
I tried to rationalize it—maybe he was asking me to close the door? I glanced back and noticed the bedroom door was slightly ajar. Could that really be the issue?
“Don’t worry,” I murmured. “I’ll close it later.”
Julian didn’t protest. Instead, he pulled me closer, kissing me again with an intensity that made my knees weak. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to believe that he wanted me. That I wasn’t just another faceless assistant in his life.
But then he sighed softly against my ear, his voice tinged with emotion.
“Chloe... you’re finally back.”
The name hit me like a slap to the face. He wasn’t asking me to close the door. He was calling for her.
Anger and humiliation surged through me. I shoved him back onto the bed, my hands trembling.
Julian blinked up at me, his gaze still filled with tenderness—not for me, but for this mysterious Chloe. Whoever she was, she clearly owned his heart in a way I never could.
Enough was enough. I’d spent years cleaning up after him, enduring insults from his girlfriends, and dreaming of a life that clearly wasn’t meant for me. I didn’t need his million dollars. Not anymore.
Without a word, I turned and left him there, sprawled on the bed, still murmuring Chloe’s name.
As I stepped out into the cold night air, I felt a strange sense of relief. Julian Grey might have been the prince charming of my fantasies, but he wasn’t worthy of my reality.
I stormed out of Julian's mansion, a cocktail of shame and anger brewing inside me. How foolish I'd been to believe—even for a second—that Julian Grey, my boss and a notorious playboy, could feel anything for me beyond professional convenience. That moment, when he'd whispered Chloe's name, had shattered whatever illusion I'd foolishly nurtured.
I hailed a cab to take me home, but as the car sped through the quiet streets, regret began to gnaw at me. If I simply left now, everything I’d endured tonight—my embarrassment, my emotional turmoil—would have been for nothing. I had to go back. Maybe not for love, but for something just as important: compensation.