Chapter 6 - The Proposal That Wasn’tThree weeks into the independent investigation, Olivia began to suspect Julian was planning something.
This was not unusual.
Julian planned everything.
He planned meetings to discuss future meetings. He scheduled spontaneous dinners forty-eight hours in advance. He once sent Olivia a calendar invitation titled Unstructured Relaxation because she had complained they never did anything unplanned.
But this was different.
He was secretive.
His phone disappeared whenever she entered the room.
Jennifer suddenly avoided eye contact.
Marcus had stopped mentioning the engagement betting pool entirely, which was perhaps the most suspicious development of all.
Then Julian told her they were going to Paris.
“For work,” he added.
Olivia narrowed her eyes across the breakfast table.
“Work.”
“Yes.”
“In Paris.”
“We have clients in Paris.”
“We also have clients in Cleveland. You never look this pleased about Cleveland.”
“No one looks pleased about Cleveland.”
“That feels unnecessarily aggressive toward Ohio.”
“I apologize to the entire state.”
“What are you planning?”
“Business.”
“Your face is doing a thing.”
“My face does many things.”
“Not usually. Usually your face has two modes: intimidating billionaire and mildly annoyed billionaire.”
“And currently?”
“Secretly plotting billionaire.”
He drank his coffee.
“You’re imagining things.”
Olivia stared.
“Liar.”
He smiled.
The investigation had already uncovered enough to dominate financial news.
Blackwood Industries had voluntarily disclosed historical payments tied to former executives. Julian had hired an external forensic accounting firm and publicly committed to publishing the results.
The board had hated that decision.
Investors initially hated it more.
The stock price fell eleven percent in two days.
Then something unexpected happened.
Employees rallied behind him.
Several major clients publicly supported the transparency initiative.
Industry analysts began describing Julian’s response as one of the most aggressive corporate ethics reforms in recent memory.
None of that made the personal side easier.
Vivian was now part of his life.
Tentatively.
Awkwardly.
She had dinner with them twice.
The first dinner had gone surprisingly well until Vivian told a childhood story involving their father and Julian stood up halfway through dessert and walked onto the balcony without explanation.
The second dinner was worse.
Julian tried too hard.
He asked Vivian questions like an interviewer.
Where did you attend school?
What was your undergraduate degree?
How long have you lived in London?
Olivia eventually kicked him under the table.
“Stop conducting due diligence on your sister.”
Vivian laughed so hard she nearly choked.
After that, something loosened.
Now Julian and Vivian exchanged occasional messages.
Mostly sarcastic.
Olivia considered this meaningful progress.
The Paris trip, however, made her suspicious.
Their first evening in the city involved dinner at a small restaurant overlooking the Seine.
No investors.
No clients.
No work.
Just Julian in a dark suit, looking offensively attractive in candlelight.
Olivia studied him.
“What?”
“You’re being weird.”
“I’m eating.”
“You’re eating mysteriously.”
He looked down at his plate.
“I wasn’t aware food could be consumed mysteriously.”
“Everything about tonight is suspicious.”
“Beautiful restaurant?”
“Suspicious.”
“Wine?”
“Very suspicious.”
“Paris?”
“Extremely suspicious.”
He smiled.
“You’re impossible.”
“Show me your pockets.”
“No.”
“Ring.”
His fork stopped.
Olivia pointed.
“Aha!”
“That proves nothing.”
“You froze.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely froze.”
“You just accused me of carrying jewelry during dinner.”
“You’ve been acting shady for weeks.”
“Perhaps I’m having an affair.”
“With whom?”
“Marcus.”
Olivia burst out laughing.
Julian looked pleased with himself.
“You’d make a terrible couple.”
“Why?”
“You’re both controlling.”
“He maintains excellent spreadsheets.”
“That’s what attracts you?”
“Among other things.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“You started this.”
After dinner, Julian suggested a walk along the river.
Olivia became more certain.
Every romantic movie she had ever seen told her exactly what was happening.
Paris.
Night.
River.
Suspicious boyfriend.
The man was going to propose.
Her heart began beating too fast.
Not because she did not want him.
She did.
That was the terrifying part.
She wanted him in every version of her future she could imagine.
But marriage still felt enormous.
Permanent.
Real in a way living together half the week and sharing Chinese food in an office did not.
Julian guided her toward a quiet overlook.
The Eiffel Tower glittered in the distance.
Olivia stopped.
“No.”
He blinked.
“No what?”
“You’re doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Proposal scenery.”
Julian stared.
Then laughed.
“You think I’m proposing?”
“You brought me to Paris.”
“For a client presentation tomorrow.”
“We have not discussed the client once.”
“That’s because you spent dinner accusing me of having an affair with Marcus.”
“You admitted it.”
“I made a joke.”
“You also led me to this aggressively romantic location.”
“It is a public walkway.”
“Nothing in Paris is just a public walkway.”
Julian put his hands in his pockets.
Olivia’s eyes dropped immediately.
He laughed harder.
“Would you stop looking at my pockets?”
“Take your hands out.”
“No.”
“Julian!”
Several tourists looked over.
He lowered his voice.
“Would you like me to propose?”
Olivia froze.
“That is unfair.”
“It’s a question.”
“It’s a trap.”
“No.”
“You’re using calm billionaire voice.”
“I’m simply asking whether the idea bothers you because you don’t want it or because you’re afraid you do.”
She stared.
“I hate when you psychoanalyze me.”
“Observing. Analysis requires a degree and probably a couch.”
Her eyes widened.
“You remembered that.”
“I told you. I remember everything.”
The humor disappeared.
They stood facing each other beside the Seine.
Olivia swallowed.
“I do want it.”
Julian’s expression changed.
“Marriage?”
“You.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“It’s the answer.”
He waited.
She sighed.
“Yes. Marriage. Eventually. Probably. With you.”
“Probably?”
“I’m panicking. Allow grammatical uncertainty.”
He stepped closer.
“I’m not proposing tonight.”
Relief and disappointment hit her simultaneously.
Julian saw both.
His mouth curved.
“You’re disappointed.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I am relieved.”
“And disappointed.”
“Maybe two percent.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. Twelve percent.”
He kissed her forehead.
“I’m not proposing because there’s too much chaos around us right now. I don’t want you wondering whether I’m doing it because my family exploded and I’m trying to secure something stable.”
Olivia stared at him.
“That is annoyingly emotionally mature.”
“I’ve been reading.”
“What?”
“Relationship books.”
She burst out laughing.
“You have not.”
“I have.”
“Which ones?”
“Classified.”
“Oh my God.”
“I have resources.”
“You have a therapist?”
“I said books.”
“You need a therapist.”
“I have Olivia.”
“That is absolutely not the same thing.”
He smiled.
“No. It’s much louder.”
She hit his arm.
They continued walking.
Eventually Olivia asked, “Then what have you been hiding?”
Julian’s face shifted.
“What?”
“Your phone. Jennifer’s weird behavior. Marcus suddenly acting like he signed an NDA.”
Julian stopped.
For a moment, Olivia’s amusement disappeared.
“What is it?”
“Something good, I hope.”
He reached inside his coat.
Olivia’s heart stopped.
He produced a folded document.
She stared.
“That is the least romantic ring box I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s not a ring.”
He gave it to her.
The header read:
PARKER CREATIVE LAB — STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENT PROPOSAL.
Olivia looked up.
“What is this?”
“Your company.”
She blinked.
“My what?”
Julian spoke carefully.
“The board’s concerns about our relationship were wrong in the way they expressed them, but one issue was legitimate.”
“My reporting line.”
“Yes. You work three doors from me. I influence budgets connected to your projects. You’ve earned every success, but as long as you report within my chain of command, people can question it.”
Olivia looked at the proposal.
“So you’re firing me.”
“No.”
“Moving me?”
“Offering you independence.”
He pointed to the pages.
“Blackwood Industries wants to launch an internal creative incubator that functions as a separate subsidiary. Independent management. Separate compensation committee. Your team, your budgets, your clients.”
“You want me to run it?”
“If you want it.”
Olivia stared at him.
“Julian.”
“You have built half the concepts we’ve implemented this year. Morrison alone increased campaign conversion thirty-eight percent.”
“You memorized my numbers?”
“I memorize everything involving you.”
“That’s becoming concerning.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He smiled.
Then she looked back at the proposal.
There was something frightening about it.
Not because she did not want the opportunity.
Because she did.
She wanted it too much.
“I’m not qualified to run a company.”
“You are.”
“I have less than a year of senior-level experience.”
“You also have instincts people with twenty years of experience don’t have.”
“You’re biased.”
“Which is why I removed myself from the selection process.”
Olivia looked up sharply.
“What?”
“The executive committee reviewed the candidates without my vote.”
“Candidates?”
“There were six.”
“And?”
“You were unanimously ranked first.”
Her throat tightened.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t influence them?”
“No.”
“Threaten anyone?”
“No.”
“Secretly purchase their families?”
“That’s generally frowned upon.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Olivia looked at the river.
All her life she had wanted someone to give her a chance.
Then she had met Julian and feared every chance he gave her would be interpreted as favoritism.
Now he was offering her something more dangerous.
A chance that was hers.
“If I fail?”
“You fail.”
“That’s comforting.”
“You learn. You fix it. You try again.”
“And if I embarrass the company?”
“Then you’ll have company. I once held up airport security over Hungarian water.”
She laughed.
“Still your worst business decision.”
“Best.”
His voice softened.
“It led me to you.”
Olivia looked at him.
“That line should not work anymore.”
“But it does.”
“Unfortunately.”
He held out his hand.
“Think about it.”
She took his hand.
“When do you need an answer?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“That sounds suspiciously healthy.”
“The books.”
“Stop.”
Three days later, Olivia accepted.
Parker Creative Lab officially launched two months afterward.
Her first day as managing director was an unmitigated catastrophe.
The coffee machine flooded.
A delivery truck brought sixty-eight office chairs instead of eighteen.
Marcus, whom she had recruited as operations manager, accidentally sent an internal welcome email to every Blackwood Industries employee worldwide with the subject line:
WELCOME TO OLIVIA’S EXPERIMENTAL CORPORATE CULT.
Julian called within thirty seconds.
Olivia answered.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I can hear you smiling.”
“I’m very proud of your cult.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No. Tragically.”
He visited that afternoon.
Not as her boss.
As her boyfriend.
He stood in her new office, looking around at unfinished walls, chaotic mood boards, crooked furniture, and a coffee stain shaped suspiciously like Texas.
“You did this,” he said.
“We’ve been open seven hours.”
“You still did it.”
She looked at the name painted on the glass.
PARKER CREATIVE LAB.
Her name.
Not his.
Something inside her settled.
“You gave me the chance.”
“No.”
Julian stepped behind her.
“You gave yourself the chance. I just stopped standing in the way.”
She turned.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“If you proposed right now, I might say yes.”
His entire body froze.
Olivia smiled slowly.
“Oh.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“You did that deliberately.”
“Absolutely.”
“That was cruel.”
“Honest.”
“Aggressively honest.”
“Exactly.”
He pulled her against him.
“One day, Parker.”
“One day what?”
“I’m going to surprise you.”
“You’ve been trying since the airport.”
“And?”
“You’re terrible at it.”
Julian smiled against her hair.
“We’ll see.”
Across the street, through the glass windows of another building, a man lifted a camera.
The shutter clicked.
Then again.
And again.
By morning, photographs of Olivia and Julian embracing in Parker Creative Lab would be everywhere.
But those photographs were not the real problem.
The real problem was the headline beneath them.
May you like
BLACKWOOD CEO FUNDS GIRLFRIEND’S PRIVATE COMPANY DURING ACTIVE FINANCIAL INVESTIGATION.
And by sunrise, the scandal they thought they had begun controlling would become something far more dangerous.
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