Chapter 8 - A Walk in the Snow
Julian led Emma down the cleared stone pathway toward a secluded pavilion overlooking the frozen Yellowstone River. The air was crisp, clean, and biting, but Emma felt warmer than she had in years.
"Your mother looks strong," Julian said, breaking the comfortable silence.
"She looks like herself again," Emma replied softly, looking up at his profile. "I had forgotten what she looked like without pain."
They stopped at the edge of the stone terrace. Below them, the river carved its way through the white valley, shimmering like polished silver beneath the winter sun.
"I have to return to Chicago tomorrow," Julian said quietly, keeping his gaze on the horizon.
Emma’s heart sank slightly. She had known this moment was coming. He was a global titan with an empire to run; she was a rancher's daughter from a small mountain town. Their worlds had collided in blood on a train, but reality was finally catching up.
"Of course," Emma said, trying to keep her voice light and cheerful. "You have an empire to manage. And the board of directors probably misses you."
"The board can burn in hell for all I care," Julian said bluntly.
Emma blinked, surprised, turning to look at him.
Julian turned to face her. His expression was completely stripped of his usual corporate detachment. His silver eyes were raw, intense, and filled with an emotion that made Emma’s pulse race in her throat.
"For ten years, Emma, my life has been numbers, contracts, hostile takeovers, and men trying to stick knives in my back," Julian said, stepping closer until he stood barely a foot away. "I thought power was the only thing that kept a man safe in this world."
He reached out, his gloved hand gently lifting her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.
"And then I woke up bleeding to death on a train in the middle of nowhere," he whispered. "And the first thing I saw wasn't an assassin, or a board member, or a lawyer. It was a girl with red hair who looked terrified, but refused to run away."
Emma swallowed hard, her breath catching. "Julian..."
"You gave up the last thing you owned to keep me breathing," Julian continued, his thumb gently caressing the curve of her cheek. "I’ve spent four days tearing this valley apart to make sure no one could ever hurt you again. But now that it's done, I realize something."
"What?" Emma breathed, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"I don't want to go back to Chicago without you."
Emma’s breath froze in her throat. "What are you saying?"
"I'm not Arthur Vance, Emma. I will never slide a contract across a table and demand your signature," Julian said, his voice dropping to a low, passionate hum. "I don't want to buy you. I don't want to own you. But I want to know you. I want to take you to Chicago. I want to show you the world outside this valley. And if you tell me no, the money is still yours, the ranch is still yours, and my security will protect your mother for the rest of her days."
He lowered his hand from her cheek, letting his open palm rest between them, exactly as he had on the train.
"The choice is entirely yours, Emma."
Emma looked down at his open hand, then up into the fierce, protective devotion burning in his silver eyes. She remembered the terror on the train, the courage she had found in the dark, and the way he had stepped between her and destruction like an immovable shield.
She didn't hesitate.
Emma placed her small, warm hand directly into his.
Julian’s fingers closed around hers, strong, warm, and unbreakable. A breathtaking, radiant smile broke across his rugged face—a smile that was genuine, rare, and entirely hers.
"So," Emma smiled, a playful sparkle dancing in her green eyes. "Does this private jet of yours have decent coffee?"
May you like
Julian laughed—a deep, rich sound that seemed to chase away the last remnants of winter from the valley. "The best in the world, Emma. The best in the world."
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