Chapter 426

The phone buzzed in Vivian's hand just as she reached for the door. Julian Montclair's velvet voice flowed through the receiver. "Vivian, could you come down to the precinct?"

Outside the police station, Julian stood waiting in slate-gray athletic wear. His silver-rimmed glasses caught the sunlight, giving him the scholarly charm of a university professor mixed with youthful energy.

His aide couldn't contain his curiosity. "Sir, since you've uncovered Serena Whitmore paid off the housekeeper to frame Ms. Hartley, why not just—"

A glacial shift in Julian's expression cut him off mid-sentence. "I've told you before," his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, "address me as Mr. Montclair. I'm just an ordinary citizen. That other title doesn't suit me here."

The momentary sharpness vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind his usual gentle demeanor.

"My apologies, Mr. Montclair," the aide stammered, suddenly aware of the cold sweat forming on his back. He swallowed his remaining words.

This was a side of Julian the aide had never witnessed—polished yet lethal. That fleeting glimpse reminded him exactly why Julian had earned his infamous moniker in certain circles.

The aide suppressed a shudder.

What madness had possessed him to question Julian's methods? Had they been anywhere but Northshire's civilized society, such impertinence could have cost him dearly.

"Don't let it happen again," Julian said, his tone freezing the air between them.

A taxi pulled up moments later. Vivian emerged, her hurried steps carrying her toward Julian.

Surprise flickered across her features before concern took over. Her eyes swept over him in quick assessment. Finding him unharmed, some tension left her shoulders. "Julian? What's wrong?"

Noticing her worry, Julian's lips curved into a smile warm as morning sunlight. The transformation was so complete, his aide felt his breath catch.

Watching this display, the aide finally understood the true meaning of an angel's mask. Strangely, it unsettled him more than Adrian Blackwood's infamous icy demeanor ever had.

"Nothing's wrong," Julian assured, closing the distance between them. "I wanted to introduce you to someone." His hand lifted toward her face in a gesture that made her hesitate.

"Who?" Vivian asked, instinctively leaning back to avoid contact.

But Julian merely plucked a stray crimson thread from her shoulder with effortless grace. He examined it briefly before flicking it into a nearby bin.

Heat rushed to Vivian's cheeks. Had she really imagined—? A married woman thinking Julian would—? Outside a police station of all places?

Flustered, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Must've picked that up in the cab," she muttered.