Chapter 3 Behind Closed Doors

Julian's POV

The third-floor hallway was quiet. Just the low hum of the heating pipes and our footsteps on the hardwood floor.

Elle leaned against me, dead weight. Her head lolled against my shoulder. The black sequined dress caught the dim light from the wall sconces, throwing tiny reflections across the wood paneling.

I stopped outside her door. Tried to hold her steady with one arm while reaching for the handle.

She lifted her head. Blinked at me. “ I wannted to kiss you.”

Then she went up on her toes and kissed me.

Just her hands grabbing my collar and her mouth on mine.

I froze.

Her lips were soft. Warm. She tasted like champagne and something sweet.

Her perfume wrapped around me, a soft peach scent that made my head spin.

For about three seconds, my brain went completely blank.

Then instinct took over.

I pulled her closer. Kissed her back. Hard.

My hand slid into her hair. The other went to her waist. She made a small sound in the back of her throat and pressed against me. The sequins were cold under my palm but her skin underneath was burning.

Elle. Elle is kissing me. Elle—

She pushed at my chest. Gasped for air.

Said something I couldn't make out.

I thought she was saying my name. My heart was about to explode.

Then I looked at her face.

Her eyes weren't focused. Her pupils were huge. She was swaying on her feet.

She had no idea who I was.

I let go like she'd burned me. Stepped back. My chest was heaving.

"Do you know who I am?" My voice came out raw. "Elle. Do you know who I am?"

She didn't answer. Just blinked at me with those unfocused eyes.

Then she stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around my waist.

I went rigid. Didn't push her away. Couldn't.

Ask her. You have to ask. Make sure she knows it's you.

But my throat closed up.

She buried her face in my chest. "Don't leave me alone."

Her voice cracked. Like a lost kid.

I closed my eyes. Took a breath. "Elle, look at me. Look at my face."

She didn't look up. Just held on tighter.

I sighed. Tried to turn her toward her door.

She wouldn't let go. Her fingers dug into my shirt.

Fine. I'd let her lean on me for a minute. Until she calmed down.

I backed up against my own door. It was right next to hers. Maybe if she rested for a bit—

She shifted. Moved around behind me. Put her full weight against my back.

"Warm," she mumbled. "Don't go."

Every muscle in my body locked.

I could feel her. The curves of her body through the thin fabric. The cold sequins and the heat of her skin. It shot up my spine like electricity.

She had no idea who was holding her. She just needed someone. Anyone.

That hurt more than anything.

I shut my eyes. My throat worked. I dug my nails into my palms until it stung.

Hold it together. Don't be a piece of shit. Just get her inside and—

She let go of my waist.

Slid around to face me again.

Her hand came up. Touched my face. Slow. Clumsy.

I held my breath. My heart was slamming against my ribs.

Say my name. Please. Just say it.

If she said "Julian," I'd know she knew. If she said "Arthur"—

I'd shove her into her room and get the hell out of here.

Her jacket slipped off. Hit the floor with a soft thud.

She tilted her head. Stared at my mouth. Her finger traced my bottom lip.

"Your lips," she said. Voice all dreamy and slurred. "Pretty. Earlier... felt good."

She leaned in again.

My control snapped.

She liked it. She said it felt good—

But she didn't say who. She didn't know.

My hands came up. I meant to push her away.

But when my fingers touched her waist—where the cold sequins met warm skin—I stopped.

I pressed my forehead against hers. Closed my eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" I could barely get the words out. "Tell me. Please."

She didn't answer.

Instead, she stood on her toes. Put her mouth next to my ear.

"Handsome," she breathed.

Then she bit my earlobe. Soft.

Handsome.

Not my name. Just... handsome.

She could be talking about anyone. Arthur. Some random guy at the party.

Anyone.

But my body didn't care. That little bite went straight through me like a lit fuse.

I grabbed the back of her head and kissed her.

This time it wasn't careful. It was desperate. Angry. I kissed her like I was trying to burn myself into her memory. Like maybe if I kissed her hard enough, she'd remember this. Remember me.

Even if she didn't know it was me right now.

She whimpered. Grabbed my shoulders. Her knees buckled.

I walked her backward. Hit the wall next to my door. Kept kissing her.

My hand slid from her waist to her back. Under the dress. Her skin was so soft it made my head spin.

I knew what I was doing. Taking advantage. Being the worst kind of asshole.

But I couldn't stop.

Because once she sobered up, once she realized it was me and not Arthur—she'd hate me. She'd never look at me again.

So just this once. Just once, let me have this.

My fingers traced up her spine. The dress was tight. I had to slide my hand up from the hem. Over her ribs.

Found the clasp of her bra.

Hooked my finger under it.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Coming up the stairs.

I froze. Every nerve in my body screaming.

My hand was still on her back. On the clasp. But I didn't move.

The footsteps got closer. Steady. Deliberate.

Dress shoes on hardwood.

Arthur.

Shit. Shit shit shit—

My brain kicked into overdrive.

If he saw us like this—Elle hanging off me, dress half undone, her jacket on the floor—

I couldn't.

I pulled my hand out from under her dress. Grabbed her wrist.

Shoved my door open.

Pulled her inside.

She stumbled. Made a small sound. Fell against me.

I caught her. Slammed the door shut. Locked it.

The whole thing took maybe four seconds.

The footsteps stopped. Right outside.

I pressed my back against the door. Breathing hard. My heart was trying to punch through my ribs.

Her jacket. It's still out there.

That black leather jacket was lying right in front of my door.

Arthur would see it. He'd know.

The room was dark. Silent. Just the sound of my pulse in my ears and Elle's breathing.

She was blinking at me. Confused. The sequins sparkled in the sliver of light under the door.

Then—three hard knocks.

"Julian."

Arthur's voice. Cold. Flat.

"Are you with Eleanor?"