Julian took Elise on a carriage ride through Central Park, the city’s glow softened by the canopy of trees. The clop of hooves and the rustle of leaves created a cocoon of intimacy, the air cool against their skin. Blankets draped over their laps, a bottle of Pinot Noir rested between them, and Julian’s arm around her felt like an anchor. But Livia’s cryptic words from the gallery clawed at Elise’s mind, refusing to let her fully sink into the moment.

“Tell me about the deal,” she said, her voice gentle but unyielding, her eyes searching his face.

Julian’s expression shuttered, his jaw tightening under the moonlight. He didn’t look away, though, and that gave her hope. “Five years ago, I made a bad call,” he said, his voice low, measured. “A business deal went south—people got hurt. Not physically, but their livelihoods… I trusted the wrong partners, and it cost good people their savings, their futures. I’ve spent every day since trying to make it right.”

Her heart ached for the weight he carried, but a thread of fear lingered. “Hurt how, exactly?” she pressed, needing clarity.

He took her hand, his thumb tracing slow circles on her palm, grounding them both. “No one died, Elise. But families lost homes, retirements. I was young, arrogant, and I didn’t see the fallout coming. I’m not that man anymore. You—” He paused, his eyes softening, “—you make me want to be better.”

The vulnerability in his voice cracked her open. She saw the truth in his hazel eyes, the gold flecks catching the light like stars. Her own past—Marc’s betrayal, the way he’d diminished her—surged forward, and she leaned into Julian, their foreheads touching. “I believe you,” she whispered. “But no more secrets.”

His lips found hers, the kiss slow and deep, tasting of wine and promises. The carriage rocked gently, and soon the blankets were tangled around them, her skirt pushed up, his hands worshipping her skin. Their lovemaking was deliberate, soul-deep, each touch a vow to trust, to build something real. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, his breath hot against her neck as they moved together, the city fading into a distant hum.

But as they adjusted their clothes, catching their breath, Julian’s eyes flicked to the rear of the carriage. A black sedan trailed too closely, its headlights cutting through the park’s shadows. His body tensed, his hand tightening on hers. “We need to lose them,” he said, his voice low, urgent, as he leaned forward to instruct the driver.

Elise’s pulse spiked. “Who’s following us?”

“Livia’s people,” he said grimly, his eyes scanning the road. “She’s not done with me.”

The carriage veered onto a side path, the driver urging the horse faster. Elise’s heart pounded, the romance of the night shattered by the weight of Julian’s past. Who was Livia, really? And how far would she go to ruin him?

Chapter 4: The Weight of Truth

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