Julian

 

 

When I agreed to the launch party for our new hotel in Chelsea, I assumed it would be as dull as every other event Bishop Hotels has hosted for the past few years.

The routine is the same regardless of the location. I mingle, Isadora shows up late, and we take the stage together to make a surprise announcement about a secret project that our marketing department strategically leaked to travel industry bloggers and reporters weeks ago.

Last night was different.

It wasn't because my younger sister accepted the marriage proposal of her boyfriend during the party. Brynn delivered that news to me in person near the end of the night just as she was ready to leave with her now-fiancé, Smith Booth. I'm happy for them. Marriage is what they both want.

I was preoccupied during much of the event with the sight of Maya with her date. He held her hand as she balanced against him when she adjusted the strap on one of her shoes. He smiled down at her when she laughed.

She was a welcome surprise during an otherwise uneventful evening.

"What happened to you last night?" Isadora looks up from where she's sitting behind her desk. "You left the party early."

I left as soon as Maya did. I saw no reason to stay to chat up the guests we'd strategically invited because of the size of their bank accounts.

The hotel we launched last night is a new venture for us. In addition to an unforgettable experience for guests who choose to stay the night with us, we're offering a unique opportunity for a select few individuals.

The property has a dozen residential units. Each offers a stunning view of the city and comes with every amenity the hotel has to offer. It's a risky gamble in the current volatile market, but it's going to pay off.

With the right broker on board, the residential suites will sell themselves.

"I left as it was winding down." I step into her office to drop a contract on her desk. "Have someone look this over by the end of the day. It's urgent."

She fingers the corner of the papers. "I'll handle it myself."

Isadora was hired on as a junior attorney over three years ago. Now, she runs the legal department at Bishop Hotels.

Our professional lives are tangled around her employment contract and the shares I gifted her with a year-and-a-half ago when she first hinted that she wanted an engagement ring.

A diamond on her finger is still the thing she craves most in the world. I can't bring myself to walk within ten feet of a jewelry store.

I may have felt close to her at one time, but that's not the case anymore. She's someone I've come to rely heavily on for business advice.

It's a primarily professional relationship that is occasionally punctuated with an unfulfilling fuck.

"What do you want to do for dinner tonight?" She pushes back from her desk to stand. She's wearing a white blouse and a gray pencil skirt. Isadora is every inch the professional when she's in this building.

"I'm having dinner with Sebastian." I hold her gaze waiting for the question I know will follow.

"Why didn't you invite me to join you?" She walks toward me. "Zeb would love to see me."

He wouldn't.  Sebastian Wolf spends his days and often, his nights, as a valued member of the NYPD's homicide squad.  He's clashed with Isadora on more than one occasion. She may not be an expert in criminal law, but she was vocal about some of the media reports of a high profile case that Sebastian was an integral part of.

She has no idea he was one of the detectives assigned to a murder case that eventually resulted in the acquittal of the suspect who just happened to be a senator's son. Isadora worked on the senator's re-election campaign last term. Her loyalty lies with him, not with the truth.

"You'll find something to keep yourself busy." My gaze drops to the patterned area rug that covers the hardwood floor.

Her fingertips trail over the fabric that covers my bicep. "Maybe I'll go shopping for a wedding gift for your sister and her fiancé."

I study her face. It's flawless, as usual. Her make-up is applied with the same precision as her attention to every word on each contract that crosses her desk. "You heard about their engagement."

The news should have come from me, but I knew where that discussion would take us.

"They've barely been together for six months and she's wearing a ring." She reaches for my shoulder. "We've been dating for three years and my finger is still bare."

Dating.

That's how I've always defined what this is. We don't live together. We rarely sleep together. I wear a condom each time we do fuck to avoid the possibility that a child will bind us forever. There are many things I trust Isadora with but not getting pregnant isn't one of them.

I don't want her to have my baby, so I take equal responsibility for making certain that doesn't happen.

"I have no interest in getting married." I step back so I'm out of her reach. "Nothing has changed since the last time we had this discussion."

She matches my step with one of her own, closing the distance between us in an instant. She stands on her tiptoes to brush her lips over my cheek. "You're wrong about that, darling. Something has changed. I'm getting older."

"You won't be thirty for another three months." I wave my hand at the calendar hanging on her office wall. "I just hit that milestone, and I don't consider myself ancient yet."

"You don't have eggs that are on a timer." She pats her stomach. "This is the ideal time for us to start a family. I want us to be married before that happens."

We circle the same subject every few months. I've always made it clear to her that I don't envision the same future between us as she does. "Isadora, when I say I'm not interested in getting married, I'm serious."

She sighs. "You're not serious about that, Julian. We've been together for more than three years. If we're not headed toward marriage, where exactly is this going?"

It's a direct question she's never asked me before. I've stayed with her because it's been convenient and easy, but our relationship has been stagnant for a long time. Our connection has been heavily focused on the business for years now. The drive to grow the hotel chain has kept us bound to each other. It's all we talk about when we're together.

I stare at her face, realizing that I'll never give her what she needs and she'll never be what I want. "I am serious. I'm not going to marry you, not now, not ever."

"Do you love me?" She shoots the question out so quickly that I take a step back physically. Her bottom lip quivers. She's not easily overcome with emotion. I've never seen her shed a tear.

"Isadora," I say her name before I exhale on an exasperated breath. "The office isn't the place to discuss this."

"That's not an answer."

"I care about what happens to you." I hold her gaze.

"You don't love me?" She doesn't try to mask the surprise in her voice. "You seriously don't love me?"

I've never said those three words to her even though she's whispered them in my ear when we've been in bed together. I couldn’t bring myself to say them, knowing that they weren't weighted with the truth.

"Answer me." Her tone shifts from calm to obvious irritation. "Just say it, Julian. Tell me you don't love me and that I'm wasting my time loving you."

Unexpected relief washes over me. I know the fucked up mess that the next words out of my mouth are going to cause. I've put everything I have into this business and when I end this, I'll lose a piece of it to the woman standing in front of me.

That was a sacrifice I was never willing to make, so I kept things between us as is but now, the price is miniscule compared to the scent of freedom in the air.

"I don't love you." I look directly into her eyes as I say the words so there's no misinterpretation.

A pained sound escapes from between her lips. Her eyes search mine for something more; a hint that I'm hiding my true feelings even though I just spoke them, loudly and clearly.  All she sees is my resolution to finally end our relationship.

She glances back at her desk and the thick stack of papers I dropped there.  "I'll have the contract back to you by mid-afternoon. I'll send someone by your apartment to pick up my things before the end of the week."

I make my way out of her office and down the hall to my own without another word. The relief I feel almost brings me to my knees. I'm no longer drowning in a pool of infinite need. It's over. It was time. Isadora knows it in her heart. Now she needs to let go of what could have been so she can face the reality of what is. I just hope to hell my company can survive.