Page 16 of Julian

“You’ve got this, Kiki,” she murmured as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. “You survived years with Jim. You can do this. You’re not alone. Angie is there for you.”

She rested her hand on her stomach. It was still flat. Well, not flat, because she’d always had a bit of a belly to match her curves. But even though her belly hadn’t yet grown noticeably, there was a presence that was relying on her to protect it. To plan a future for them.

And the first step in doing that was to have a conversation with Julian, and whatever that entailed.

She took a steadying breath and made her way downstairs. Each step felt heavier than the last, her legs unsteady beneath her. The ginger candy helped with the nausea, but it couldn't touch the knot of anxiety that had settled in her chest.

The solarium was tucked away at the back of the house, its glass walls offering a view of the estate's flower garden. Kiara had always loved the room—it felt separate from the rest of the house somehow, more peaceful. She hoped that tranquility might help her get through this conversation.

When she pushed the door open, Julian was already there. He stood with his back to her, hands clasped behind him as he stared out at the garden. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, and hisshirt sleeves were rolled up, making him look less intimidating than she'd expected. Still, her heart hammered against her ribs.

He turned at the sound of the door opening, and Kiara's breath caught in her throat. His green eyes met hers across the room, and she saw her own uncertainty reflected there.

"Kiara." His voice was rougher than she remembered, strained in a way that made her stomach clench.

"Julian." She stayed by the door for a moment, suddenly unsure of her legs. The ginger candy dissolved on her tongue, leaving behind a sharp sweetness that did nothing to calm her nerves.

He gestured toward the wicker seating area near the windows. "Would you like to sit?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and made her way to one of the cushioned chairs. Julian settled across from her on the loveseat, leaving a careful distance between them. His usually perfectly styled hair looked disheveled, as if he'd been running his hands through it.

The silence stretched between them, filled only with the soft hum of the solarium's climate control system. Kiara twisted her fingers in her lap, trying to find the right words to begin.

Julian cleared his throat. "Duncan told me you're pregnant," he said finally, his tone and expression both neutral.

Kiara nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. "Yes."

"And he believes I'm the father."

The directness of his statement caught her off guard. She'd expected more dancing around the subject, more hesitation. But Julian got right to the point.

"You are," she said softly, meeting his gaze directly despite the tremor in her voice. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs.

Julian's expression tightened, a muscle working in his jaw. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles whitened.

"I don't remember us…” His words trailed off, and he didn’t attempt to pick them up, leaving Kiara to fill the silence.

“I figured as much,” she said. “When you acted like nothing had happened the next day.”

“I guess I drank a little too much.”

Kiara nodded. “You were drinking a lot.”

“And you weren’t?” he asked.

“I drank enough to kind of give me a bit of a buzz,” she said. “When I stopped, you kept drinking.”

He looked down at his hands, and Kiara could see the strain in his profile.

“So you weren’t as out of it as I was when we…”

Again, his voice trailed off in a way that felt so unlike the Julian she’d known up to that point. The directness of just a few minutes ago was gone now that he had confirmation of his role in her pregnancy.

“What do you mean?”

He looked up then, his gaze holding wariness. “Our time together. Was it consensual?”

For a moment, Kiara could only stare at him. As the strain grew on his face, she quickly said, “Yes. It might not have been a good decision, but it was one we both made, even if our judgment was impaired.”