Page 12 of Julian

“And you think Kiara is the person I should do that with?”

Duncan nodded. “Yes. We know she’s not after your money, since she has plenty of her own now. And I think it’s time you took responsibility for someone besides yourself.”

“I don’t love her,” Julian said. “I barelyknowher.”

“View it as an arranged marriage and then commit to making it work. You need to take responsibility for your actions, and you need to offer Kiara and the baby the stability of a family.”

Julian stared out the window beside his dad’s desk, trying to keep hold of the pieces of his life that were slipping away from him.

“One more thing.”

Duncan’s tone of voice had gotten even more serious, and Julian dragged his gaze back to him. This time, there was something more in his dad’s expression. Something more emotional.

“I haven’t wanted to do this, but this latest situation with Kiara has forced my hand.” Duncan heaved a heavy sigh. “After you and Kiara get married, I want you to go to rehab.”

The shocks just kept on coming. “Rehab?”

“Clearly your drinking has gotten out of hand, and it now has the potential to impact our company.”

“What do you mean? I never go to work drunk.”

“But you’re drinking to the point where you don’t remember what you’re doing,” Duncan said. “You are in possession of sensitive information. Confidential information. The competition might decide to send someone to try to get some information out of you. Your lifestyle… your drinking… is no secret. It makes you vulnerable, and someone might take advantage of that.”

Julian wanted to argue that that wasn’t possible, but he knew it was. “I’ll stop drinking as much.”

Duncan shook his head. “You’re going to rehab, and if you resist, you’re going to be removed from your position. Removed from the company.”

Shock froze Julian. “You’d fire me?”

“I would. For your sake, first and foremost. Drinking the way you do isn’t healthy for you. If you can’t see that, then I need to step in. I need to do this for the sake of the business as well. You’ve invested too much time and energy into the neurotechnology projects to risk endangering them.”

Julian was speechless. His whole world had been rocked. Knocked off its axis. It felt like everything was crashing down around him.

“I’ve found a place for you, and once we’ve got things sorted out with Kiara, you’ll check into the treatment center.”

A suffocating pressure settled on Julian's chest as the wordrehabechoed in his mind. His vision narrowed until all he couldsee was his father's stern face, the rest of the room fading to gray. This couldn't be happening. Not to him. Not now.

"I don't have a problem," he said, hating how defensive his voice sounded. "I've never missed a meeting. My work in Singapore was exemplary—you said so yourself."

"And yet here we are," Duncan replied, his tone maddeningly calm. "Discussing a child you may have fathered during a night you can't remember."

Julian's jaw clenched so tight he felt a twinge of pain. He wanted to argue, to storm out, to do anything but sit in this chair feeling like a teenager being reprimanded. But his father's words had planted a seed of doubt that was rapidly taking root.

Had his drinking really spiraled so far out of control? Julian stared at his father, searching for any sign of exaggeration or manipulation, but found only grim determination in his steely gaze.

"I need to talk to Kiara," he said finally, his voice rough. "I need to hear this from her."

Duncan nodded once, the gesture curt and businesslike. "Of course. She's likely in her room or with Angela. But Julian…" His father's voice hardened. "This isn't a negotiation. If the child is yours, you will marry her. But regardless of the outcome of that situation, you will get help with your drinking. The alternative is losing your position with the company."

Julian rose from his chair, legs unsteady beneath him. The walls of his father's office seemed to press in around him, the air suddenly too thick to breathe properly.

And more than anything, right at that moment, he wanted a drink.

"I understand," he managed, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

He turned toward the door, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of his father's expectations. Each step felt leaden, as if the Persian rug beneath his expensive oxfords had turned to quicksand.

"Julian."