Chapter 350 Her Dreams

    “Anything is fine.”

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    Life on the ind ran on a simple rhythm. Three times a day, Julius tied an apron around his suit- shoulders and surrendered himself to the stove.

    Ingredients arrived by helicopter, silver des beating the sky before lowering crates of vegetables,

    seafood, and spice onto the sun–bleached deck.

    Watching him move through the open kitchen, Quinn drifted back ito /ithe nights they had shared in the apartment. Then, too, he had experimented with sauces and sauté pans, and though the vors were never perfect, the meals tasted like home.

    Back then, her brother vanished, and not long after, news reached her that their parents had died overseas. In a single night, the word “home” copsed for her.

    Even marrying Trent couldn’t rebuild it. For three years in his mansion, she had felt like a guest wearing borrowed shoes.

    Strangely, it was the few months with Julius that made the walls feel solid again. Had he been honest about Rowan from the very start, perhaps their trust would still be standing. Perhaps everything would be different. But the world dealt in facts, not in ifs.

    Sensing her gaze, Julius paused mid–chop, looked up from the bright steel countertop, and met her eyes across the room.

    “Nothing,” Quinn murmured, dropping her gaze so the sudden mist in her eyes could dissolve unseen.

    Quinn cradled a freshly printed research journal, the ink on its glossy cover still smelling of warm machines.

    She surveyed the vi’s study, shelves rising to the ceiling and packed with volumes–biographies, field reports, ecology tomes–all the subjects that usually tugged at her restless mind.

    It struck her then that the cement was deliberate; Julius had not scattered these titles by chance but chosen each one as though guessing the contours of her curiosity.

    “Give it another minute,” Julius called from the open kitchen, his voice low but confident, “then dinner’s ready.”

    Momentster, he emerged, bncing a polished wooden tray. Five steaming dishes nked a porcin tureen of soup, colors vivid under the chandelier,

    To feed only two people, the spread felt almost excessive, a small feastid out for an unseen crowd.

    Yet every te presented one of her favorites.

    “Go on–taste.” The invitation left his lips softly, but there was a flicker of anxious hope in his eyes.

    Quinn lifted her fork with her right hand, sampled a morsel, then another. Surprise shed across her gaze like a quick re. “This is… miles better than you used to cook,” she murmured, still testing the vors.

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    Chapter 350 Her Dreams

    Honestly, the seasoning rivaled any professional kitchen she’d visited.

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    “I enrolled in a ss,” Julius admitted. “If I hadn’t improved, that would’ve been the real disaster, wouldn’t it?”

    The bite nearly caught in Quinn’s throat.

    She stared at the man opposite her, struggling to reconcile this culinary student with the prodigy who usuallymanded boardrooms andboratories.

    Chefs all over the city would dly cook for him; he had never needed to lift a knife himself.

    “What? Astonished?” he asked, one brow tilting in quiet challenge.

    “A little. What made you decide to learn?” The question slipped out before she could filter it.

    Julius set his fork down, fingers deliberate. “You once told me that when your dad had time, he’de home and cook for the family. You said you wanted a husband who’d cherish you the way he cherished your mom.”

    Suddenly, the fork in her hand felt heavy, as though carved from lead. Every offhand dream she’d ever voiced–he had remembered them all.

    Taking a deep breath, she said, “My father never hid or lied to my mother. They trusted each other, staked their very lives on that faith, and protected one another right up to thest breath!”

    Julius tightened his grip on the fork. “Quinn, I can give you my life too. Is that what it will take for you to trust me again?”

    Julius, what would I do with your life?” She lowered her head and returned to her meal, as though the topic were nothing more than steam evaporating from the soup.

    Julius pressed his lips into a hard line, wondering if her words also meant she would never ce her faith in him again.

    That night, Quinn found Julius still sharing the same bedroom with her, the moonlight nting through sheer curtains and carving silver bars across the floorboards.

    “Aren’t you sleeping in your own room?”

    “There’s only this one bedroom,” he replied calmly.

    Quinn fell silent, incredulous–this sprawling vi and only one bedroom? “Fine. I’ll take the couch.”

    She gathered a nket and started foward the living–room couch, determination in every footstep.

    Julius caught her wrist, his touch gentle yet unyielding. “Can’t we sleep together?”

    The room was drenched in salt–washed moonlight spilling through tted shutters, but Quinn’s face remained tense. She pinched her brows together, as though tightening a drawstring on her own caution. “We shouldn’t be sleeping together,” she said, the words clipped yet not unkind, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

    His shoulders sagged in petnt disbelief, the sand–colored stubble along his jaw catchingmplight. “But

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    09:58 Mon, 1 Septej

    Chapter 350 Her Dreams

    back in Doria we managed just fine, didn’t we?”

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    Quinn exhaled, the sound impatient yet weary. “That was only my way of returning the favor for your help,” she reminded him, voice low but steady. “And I was clear then–it applied only while we were in Doria. Now you’ve dragged me to this ind against my will. I owe you nothing.”

    A crooked smile cut across Julius‘ face, equal parts self–mockery and surrender. “Fair enough. I’ll take the couch.”

    Without waiting for permission, he swept a pillow and a light wool nket from the bed, carried them to the couch beneath the panoramic window, and tossed them down with practiced efficiency. Then he reached into the bedside drawer, produced a dark amber prescription bottle, and rattled a small mountain of tablets into his palm.

    Quinn’s breath caught; the casual way he handled the pills jolted her more than his earlier sarcasm. She seized his wrist before the tablets reached his lips. “What exactly are you taking?” she demanded.

    Julius lifted a brow as though startled by the concern, yet his tone remained cid. “Nothing more than my usual insomnia meds,” he said.

    Quinn snagged the bottle from his loose fingers. Thebel, pale green under the fluorescent glow, was not the brand she had seen in Doria.

    Her gaze narrowed. The printed warning stated in bold, reminding him against taking more than five tablets at once. The small heap in his hand was clearly double that–if not worse.

    Quinn’s eyes shed, a storm rolling in behind them. “Are you trying to kill yourself, swallowing that many at once?” she shot back.

    09:58 Mon, 1 Sept

    Chapter 351 Pills And Pretense