Julian's POV
"Stand back, Julian."
Richard's voice was a slab of cold marble, heavy and unyielding. He didn't even turn his head to look at me; his eyes were fixed on the wreckage of my suite, he was looking between the shattered glass on the floor, to Catherine and Lucy, who were standing in the center of the disaster.
I didn't move. In fact, I felt a physical snap somewhere in the back of my mind. Usually, I could play the game. I could bite my tongue, pull the mask of restraint over my face, and wait for the right moment to strike. But not now, not when I could see the dark, blooming bruise on Catherine's cheek. I saw the way her lip was split, a thin trail of red catching the light of the room.
All my logic, all my calculated plans for the night had disappeared. My brains always went dead the second I registered that she was hurt. My legs moved forward.
"I said stand back!" Richard barked, his tone sharpening.
