Page 21 of The Marriage Compromise

"That's where we're going?" I asked, unable to keep the awe from my voice.

Julian followed my gaze, his expression unreadable. "Yes. The top three floors are mine."

Of course they are.

"It has adequate security," Michael added from the front seat, his tone suggesting that "adequate" meant something closer to "Pentagon-level" rather than "decent locks."

I sank deeper into the leather seat, trying to process everything. In the span of twenty-four hours, I'd gone from being drugged and nearly kidnapped to being married to a man whose wealth was so vast it seemed almost abstract.

A man whose touch still sent electricity through my veins.

A man who was now legally my husband.

Life was weird… or out to get me.

"You're quiet," Julian observed, his dark eyes studying me.

"Just trying to keep up," I admitted. "Yesterday I was worried about making rent this month. Today I'm apparently moving into a penthouse with my billionaire husband."

Julian's hand found mine on the seat between us, his touch surprisingly gentle given the strength I knew those hands possessed. "You can still back out."

I looked down at our linked hands, then back up at his face. Despite the absurdity of our situation, despite all the rational reasons to run screaming in the opposite direction, I found I didn't want to back out.

Something about Julian pulled me in—his unexpected kindness when he'd hidden me, the passion we'd shared, the protection he now offered.

"A promise is a promise," I said, echoing his earlier words. "I'm not backing out."

Something flickered in Julian's eyes—approval, maybe, or relief. His fingers tightened around mine, the pressure both reassuring and possessive.

"Good," he said simply.

And with that single word, the full weight of what I'd done settled over me. I had married Julian Montgomery, a man whose world couldn't be more different from my own. A man whocommanded respect with his mere presence. A man who could make me forget everything else with just a touch.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

But as the SUV glided through traffic toward the tower that would apparently now be my home, Julian's hand warm and solid around mine, I found myself thinking that whatever it was, I wasn't sorry.

Not yet, anyway.

Chapter Four

~ Julian ~

I watched Connor's eyes widen as the elevator doors slid open to reveal my penthouse. His jaw actually dropped—a reaction I'd seen countless times from business associates and potential lovers alike, but never from someone who was now legally my husband.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

Most people spent years dating before marriage; we'd done everything backward, starting with sex, moving to marriage, and now we were at the "getting to know you" stage. If my board of directors could see me now, they'd probably stage an intervention.

"This is..." Connor trailed off, stepping hesitantly onto the Italian marble floor of the foyer as if afraid he might crack it.

"Home," I supplied, maneuvering my wheelchair past him with practiced ease. "At least, it's my home. Now yours too, I suppose."

That concept still hadn't fully registered. I'd lived alone since the accident, my privacy becoming a fortress I rarely allowed anyone to breach. Now I'd invited a virtual stranger to share my space—and my name.

Temporary insanity, perhaps. Or maybe something more fundamental that I wasn't ready to examine too closely.

Michael entered behind us, directing the security team as they carried in what appeared to be Connor's worldly possessions—a worn duffel bag, a backpack with frayed straps, and a battered laptop case. The sum total would barely fill one drawer in my walk-in closet.