Chapter 12 - The Closing Distance in the Private Suite
I didn't step back. Every instinct I had honed working the floor of crowded, unpredictable establishments told me that showing fear to a predator like Julian was an invitation to strike. I planted my boots firmly on the thick Persian rug, keeping my posture balanced and my hands loose at my sides, ready for whatever move he intended to make. Julian took another slow, calculated step forward, swirling the amber liquid in his whiskey glass without breaking eye contact. "You’ve got a lot of nerve walking into my building, sweetheart," Julian said, his voice dripping with a casual, cruel arrogance that relied entirely on his belief in his own untouchability. "Thorne’s little stray dog thinks she can bite the hand that feeds this district. But out here, away from the cops and the courts, nobody hears you scream." I kept my eyes locked on his, watching the slight twitch in his jaw—the lingering, physical reminder of the night I had introduced his face to my fist. He thought he was dealing with an employee he could intimidate into silence, a girl who would break under pressure. He didn't understand that I had nothing left to lose. As he closed the distance between us, raising his free hand to reach out toward my shoulder, I didn't flinch. I waited for the exact fraction of a second when his weight shifted onto his front foot, just as I had done beside the arched windows of the restaurant. His fingers brushed the collar of my shirt, and his smile widened into a predatory grin. "Let's see if you've still got that punch," he taunted, his hand tightening into a grip. I didn't wait for him to finish the sentence. I shifted my hips, dropped my center of gravity, and drove my palm upward with every ounce of leverage I possessed, catching him squarely beneath the chin. His head snapped back with a sharp crack, the whiskey glass flying from his hand to shatter against the mahogany desk, spraying amber liquid across the papers as he stumbled backward into the frosted glass partition.
